An Old Story of My Farming Days Volume I Part 3

turning to his son, a handsome young man in uniform, "you can afterwards take your mother and sisters for a turn in the garden, for,"

with an effort to smile, "you take no interest in agriculture."--"Dear father, I ....." the son began, but his father interrupted him, saying kindly: "Never mind, my boy.--Now, Mr. Hawermann, come and show me the wheat. It's in the field just below the garden, I think."

They walked away together. What a terrible change had taken place in Mr. von Rambow's appearance, he had grown so old, and it was not only the hand of time that had aged him, he seemed to have some anxiety which was wearing him out.--At the sight of his wheat-field he cheered up, and said: "What a splendid crop! I don't remember ever having seen such wheat at Pumpelhagen before."--Hawermann was much pleased, but like all of his cla.s.s he did his best to hide it, and because his heart laughed within him, he just scratched his head, and said they must wait and see what sort of weather they had at the time of harvest, and that there was generally a frightful quant.i.ty of rust down there at the edge of the meadow.--"Anything that may happen to it now will be by no fault of ours," said Mr. von Rambow, "I am very much pleased with the look of this field.--Ah," he went on after a short pause, "why didn't we know each other twenty years ago, it would have been better for us both."--Hawermann became grave and sympathetic at once when he found his master was in trouble.--They had now reached the place where the Gurlitz estate marched with Pumpelhagen.--"That wheat doesn't look as well as ours," said the squire.--"Well," replied Hawermann, "the soil is every bit as good as ours, but it hasn't been well treated, it is the Gurlitz glebe."--"A propos," interrupted Mr. von Rambow, "do you know that Gurlitz is sold? It was sold a few days ago in Rostock for twenty-five thousand nine hundred and fifty pounds. Prices are rising, are they not, Hawermann? If Gurlitz is worth twenty-five thousand nine hundred and fifty pounds, Pumpelhagen would be cheap at thirty-six thousand," and he looked sharply at Hawermann as he spoke.--"Yes, Sir, it would," replied Hawermann. "But the sale of Gurlitz may bring you good luck in another way. You see it was arranged that the sale of the estate should break the lease of the glebe lands which belong to it, and as these lands march with your wheat-field, the best thing that you can do is to take a lease of them yourself."--"My dear Hawermann! _I_ take the lease!" cried the squire, and then he turned away sadly, as if he could not bear to look at it any longer. "I have enough on my shoulders already," he added, "without undertaking anything new."--"You shall have no trouble whatever about it, only give me power to act for you, and I will arrange everything with Mr. Behrens."--"No, no, Hawermann, it's impossible. The expense, the payment of rent in advance, the large amount of stock required. I can't do it. I have so many calls on my purse as it is, that I hardly know where to turn."--Mr. von Rambow went back up the hill with so much difficulty, and stumbled so often over the stones on the road, that Hawermann sprang to him and offered him his arm. Just as they reached the garden the old man became so giddy that the bailiff took him into the arbour, and made him sit down and rest.--The squire soon recovered when brought out of the hot sun, but Hawermann looking at him could hardly imagine him to be the same man who had taken him into his service eleven years ago. At last he began to speak again, and it seemed a relief to him to unburden his mind.--"Dear Hawermann," he said, "I want you to do something for me. My brother's son, Frank--you used to know him--has left school, and will soon be of age, when he will have to take the management of his estate into his own hands. I am his guardian by my late brother's will, and have advised him to learn farming practically, and as he has agreed to do so, I have chosen you to be his teacher. You will find him an intelligent, good-hearted young fellow."--Hawermann answered that he would do his best, he had known the lad when he was quite a child, and had liked him.--"Ah!" sighed Mr. von Rambow, "why couldn't my own boy have done the same? Why was I weak enough to give way to my wife's entreaties against my better judgment? Nothing would satisfy her but he must go into the army.--And now it has come to this, he is deeply in debt, and I know he has not told me all, I see it in his manner. If he would only confess I should know where we stand, and I might be able to set him free from the money-lenders.--And what if I also were to fall into their hands," he concluded in a low, broken voice.--Hawermann was even more frightened by the expression of his master's face than by his words, and he answered with emotion: "It won't be so bad as that comes to, and then. Sir, you must remember that you have still to be paid for the fifteen hundred bushels of rape, and I'm certain there's all that."--"Ah," said Mr. von Rambow, "and I have already been paid for seventeen hundred bushels, and the money is all spent; but that isn't the worst of it. If that were all I shouldn't be so troubled," he exclaimed, as though he must speak and so lighten the burden of his anxiety. "The business I had to do at Rostock isn't settled yet, though I told you it was. I only said that for the sake of my family. I have undertaken to pay a debt of a thousand and fifty pounds for one of my sons-in-law, and I find that I cannot raise so large a sum in Rostock, though I had hoped to do so, and yet the money must be in the hands of the man who has just bought Gurlitz in three days' time.--Can you advise me what to do, old friend? You were once in the same position as I am now, and you succeeded in freeing yourself; don't be angry with me for referring to it. You are and have always been an honest man, and can understand how miserable it makes me not to know how to keep my honest name unstained."--Hawermann understood him perfectly, he had once been in the same distress for want of thirty pounds, as the squire was now for a thousand. "Have you spoken to the purchaser of Gurlitz?" he asked, after a long pause of deliberation.--"Yes," was the reply, "I told him frankly that I should find it difficult to pay so large a sum at once."--"And what was his answer?" said Hawermann, "perhaps that he was in want of it himself?"--"No, I don't think that was it, but I didn't like his looks at all, his manner was sly and smooth, and when I told him of my difficulty his proposals were so cunningly made to entangle me, that I at once broke off all negociations, and determined to do my utmost to raise the money in proper time. But I have failed as you know, and don't know where to turn, or what to do."--"I only know of one remedy,"

said Hawermann, "and that is to go to old Moses in Rahnstadt."--"To a Jew?" asked the squire. "No," he exclaimed, "I'll never do that.--I couldn't bear to fall into a usurer's hands.--No, rather than do that, I'd bear Mr. Pomuchelskopp's impertinence."--"_Whose_ did you say?"

cried Hawermann, starting as if a wasp had stung him.--"Why the new purchaser of Gurlitz of whom we have just been talking," said Mr. von Rambow, looking at his bailiff in astonishment. "He is a Pomeranian, and comes from a place nearer the river Peen; he is short and stout, and has a fat face."--"Yes," said Hawermann. "And so it is he who is going to be our neighbour here. It is he with whom you are going to have money-transactions.--No, no, Mr. von Rambow, I beg, I entreat you to have nothing to do with that man.--You can bear me witness that I have never said anything good or bad of the man who ruined me, but now that you are in danger, it becomes my duty to speak; that man was the cause of all my misfortunes," and springing to his feet he went on excitedly, his face as he spoke losing its usual calm expression, and an angry sparkle coming into his eyes. "Yes, that is the man who drove me out of house and home, who heaped one misery after another on me and my poor wife, so that she at last broke down and died.--Oh, Sir, whatever you do, beware of that man!"--The warning was too emphatic to be pa.s.sed over unheeded.--"But who can I get to help me?" he enquired.--"Moses," answered Hawermann, firmly and decidedly. The squire made a gesture of dissent, but Hawermann came a little nearer him, and went on still more emphatically than before: "Mr. von Rambow, Moses will help you, we will go to him after dinner, and I a.s.sure you on my own knowledge of the man that you will never repent going to him."

The squire rose and took Hawermann's arm. He found in him a support both physical and moral, for when a calm, even-tempered man loses his ordinary serene composure, he exerts a greater influence over others than people of a more impulsive nature ever can.

The conversation during dinner was slight and subject to long pauses.

Each was busy with his own thoughts. Hawermann thought of his new and formidable neighbours, the squire of the money he wanted to raise, and the young lieutenant seemed as if he had lost himself in a long sum in addition which he could not manage to add up rightly, so that if my lady had not ridden her high horse a little, and spoken of the calls she intended to make on the grand people in the neighbourhood, and if the three girls had not chattered about the pleasures of a country-life, and about all the pretty things they had seen during their drive, it would have been a regular quaker's meeting.

After dinner Mr. von Rambow and his bailiff drove to Rahnstadt. The squire felt as he entered the door of Moses' house as if he were going to pick a guinea out of the mud with his. .h.i.therto clean hands. On the threshold he was greeted with a stuffy smell of tarry wool that had just left the back of the sheep on which it had grown, and which is a very different article from the same wool when it is woven into a carpet for a lady's boudoir. The entrance-hall and business-room were very untidy, for though Flora was a good woman she never could manage to keep the skins out of sight, for Moses said shortly that they were part of the trade, and David was continually adding new items to the list of things lying about, so that finally the house became a very paradise for rats, for these delightful little creatures take as kindly to the fusty smell of a wool-stapler's shop, as doves to oil of aniseed.

Mr. von Rambow did not feel more comfortable when he was in the business-room, for Moses was old-fas.h.i.+oned, and when business permitted always wore his worst coat on the Christian Sabbath, holding it an article of faith to make himself look as different as possible from Christians in their holiday-attire. When he came forward hastily to receive the squire, exclaiming: "Mr. von Rambow!--I am highly honoured!" and then turning to his son who was spending his Sunday-leisure from "wool-stapling" in the enjoyment of lying at full length on the sofa: "Why don't you move, David? Why are you lying there? Get up and let Mr. von Rambow sit down." And when he led the squire to the sofa, and signed to him to sit down in the place David had just quitted, poor Mr. von Rambow would willingly have left the guineas lying in the dirt--if only he had not been in such desperate need of them.

Hawermann at once set a chair for his master near the open window, and then began to explain the business that had brought them to Rahnstadt.

As soon as Moses found what they had come for he sent David out of the room, for although he let his son manage the wool-stapling part of his trade as he liked, he did not consider him capable at five and twenty years old of taking even a subordinate place in the moneylending department. The moment the coast was clear--of David--he said again that it was a great honour to do business with Mr. von Rambow. "What have I always told you, Mr. Hawermann? Didn't I always say that Mr. von Rambow was a good man, a very good man.--And, Mr. von Rambow, what have I always said?--That Mr. Hawermann was an honest man, he worked and saved, and has paid me everything he owed me to the uttermost farthing."--But when he understood how large a sum was wanted he rather drew back, and wished to have nothing to do with it, and if he had not seen that Hawermann earnestly desired that he should undertake the business, he would have refused point blank. And who knows whether he would not have refused to have anything to do with the affair even then, if he had not heard that the money was wanted to complete the purchase of Gurlitz, and that failing his help the squire would have to come to an arrangement with Mr. Pomuchelskopp. When he heard that name Moses made a face of as much disgust, as if some one had offered him a bit of unclean meat on a plate, and then exclaimed: "With Pom.u.f.felskopp!" that was the way he always p.r.o.nounced the name. "Do you know what sort of man he is?" and as he spoke, he made a movement as though he were throwing a piece of unclean meat over his shoulder. "I advised my son David to have nothing to do with Pom.u.f.felskopp--but young people!--David bought some wool from him. Very well, I said, you will see, I said. And what did we discover? He had mixed the lumpy wool of sheep that had died of disease with what was clean and good, and also the dirty skins of wethers that had been slaughtered by the butcher, to say nothing of two large stones that he had put in the centre. Two large stones!--Good, I said. I paid him in Prussian paper-money, making up the sum in small parcels containing about fifteen pounds each, and amongst them I slipped in a few notes that were either false, or which had pa.s.sed out of currency, and lastly I added two old lottery-tickets--these are the two large stones, I said.--Oh, didn't he make noise enough about it? He came back with Slus'uhr the attorney--a man of like nature with himself--" with that he made as though he were throwing another bit of unclean meat over his shoulder.--"He looks for all the world like one of David's rats, his ears are put on his head in the same way--he must needs live, so he lives like the rats on refuse and garbage, and gnaws through the honest work of other people.--There was noise enough in all conscience now that the two were together. They said they'd go to law. What's the good of a law-suit? I asked. The wool and the money are on a par.--And do you know, gentlemen, I said something more. I said that though the attorney, Mr. Pom.u.f.felskopp, and I are only _three_ Jews, still we might be counted as _four_, for the two former were quite equal to three in their own person.--Oh dear, what a noise they made, they abused me to every one, but his wors.h.i.+p the mayor said to me, Moses, he said, you do a large business, but have never yet gone to law with any one, leave them to do their worst. Mr. von Rambow, you shall have the money this very day at a reasonable percentage, for as you are a good man and deal kindly with your dependents, and have a good name in the country-side, you shall have nothing to do with that Pom.u.f.felskopp."

Borrowing money is disagreeable work, and he who writes this book knows that it is so from his own experience, still there is a great difference between borrowing from a kind-hearted old friend, and applying to a man whose business it is to lend money.--The squire had a good many small debts on his estate, but there were no large mortgages on it, whenever he had wanted money before he had been able to get it from his lawyer, or from a tradesman, and this was the first time his old resources had failed him, and that he had been obliged to go to a Jewish moneylender. He had an intense dislike to the business he was about; the fear caused by the unwillingness Moses had at first shown to lend him the money, and then the sudden relief when he found he was to have it after all overpowered him so much, that he sank back in his chair pale and trembling. Hawermann asked for some water for him.--"Perhaps, Mr. von Rambow," asked Moses, "you'd like a mouthful of wine better."--"No, water, water," cried Hawermann, and Moses rushed to the door, and nearly knocked David down when he opened it, for David had been listening at the key-hole. "David," he exclaimed, "what are you standing there for? Why don't you go for some water?"

David brought the water, and the squire felt better as soon as he had drunk it. Moses counted the gold out on the table, and the squire, after picking them up, looked at his hands, and saw that they appeared every whit as white and clean as before. And after he was once more seated in the carriage, it seemed to him as he looked back at the money-lender's house, as if he had left the heavy load of care he had brought with him amongst the wool and sheep-skins in the warehouse. And Moses stood in the door-way and bowed, and bowed, and glanced from side to side to see whether his neighbours had observed that Mr. von Rambow was there.--Still he was not so much overwhelmed with the honour done him, as to be unable to look after his own affairs, he bent down his head, and drawing Hawermann aside, whispered: "You are an honest man, bailiff. When I concluded this piece of business I didn't notice how ill the squire was. You must promise me that the money will be paid off by the estate.--It is a question of life and death.--What have I to do with a sick man and a bond?"

Now that the squire's mind was at rest about his money-difficulties his health improved rapidly, and he began to look at everything in a more cheerful light, and when a few days later Hawermann again proposed that Mr. von Rambow should take a lease of the Gurlitz glebe, he consented at once, and gave Hawermann permission to make all the necessary arrangements with Mr. Behrens. Little Mrs. Behrens fluttered round her husband and Hawermann while they talked, and said that "the rent ought to be higher than before."--"Yes," answered Hawermann, "of course it ought. The rent must be raised, for the times are better than they were, but that matter will be easily settled, for it will be an advantageous arrangement for both sides."--"Regina," said the pastor, "it has just occurred to me that the flowers have never been watered this morning."--"Goodness gracious me," cried Mrs. Behrens as she hastened from the room, "I quite forgot the flowers."--"We'll get on quicker now," said the pastor. "I confess that I'd rather have an outsider for a tenant than the lord of the manor, for when the latter has the glebe-lands there are often little disagreeables and disputes that ought never to be between the parish-priest and his squire.

Besides that, merely as a matter of personal feeling I'd far rather have Mr. von Rambow for a tenant than the new lord of the manor; you see I have known him for many years.--So you really think I ought to get a higher rent?"--"Most certainly, Sir, and I am commissioned to offer you half as much again as you used to get. If I _myself_ were going to take a lease of it from you, I should offer you more, but ......"--"We understand each other, dear Hawermann," interrupted Mr. Behrens. "I agree to your terms."--So when Mrs. Behrens returned with little Louisa to say: "I needn't have gone after all, Louisa had done it for me," business was all arranged. The child threw her arms round her father's neck, exclaiming: "Oh father, father, what a good plan it is!"--Why did she kiss her father, and what did it matter to her who got the lease of the glebe?--Well, well, if her father had the land he would have to look after it, and so she hoped to him oftener.

When Hawermann was walking down the path leading to the church he met Zachariah Brasig coming towards him. Brasig had quite recovered from the unphilosophical state of mind into which a fit of gout always threw him, and now that the pain was over could take things as calmly and philosophically as usual. "Good-day, Charles," he said. "I have been waiting for you for some time in your room, but as the time hung rather heavily on my hands I went at last to pay my respects to the _Counsellor_. He delighted to see me, and received me with the greatest possible kindness; but how dreadfully changed he is." True, Hawermann replied, his master had become terribly aged and feeble, and he feared that he would not long be spared to them.--"Yes," answered Brasig, "but what is life after all, Charles? What is human life? Look you, Charles, it is as though it were a thing twirled round and round like an empty purse from which not a single farthing can fall, however long one may wait."--"Brasig," said Hawermann, "I don't know what other people may think of it, but life and work always seem to me to be one and the same thing."--"Oh, ho! Charles, I have you now! You learnt that from parson Behrens. He has spoken to me now and then on the subject, and he always makes out that human life in this world is neither more nor less than a sort of seed-time, and that Christian faith is the sun and rain that makes the seed sprout and grow, and that only hereafter, in the other world, comes the harvest, for while he is on earth, man must labour and toil to the uttermost.--But, Charles, that is a wrong way of looking at it, it goes clean against Scripture.--The Bible tells us of the lilies of the field, how they toil not, neither do they spin, and yet our Heavenly Father feeds them. And if G.o.d feeds them, they are alive, and yet they do no work. And when I have that confounded gout, and can do nothing--absolutely nothing, except flap the beastly flies away from my face--can I be said to work? And yet I am alive, and suffer horrible torture into the bargain. And, Charles," he continued, pointing to a field on the right, "just look at those two lilies coming towards us. I mean the lieutenant and his youngest sister; now have you ever heard that lieutenants in a cavalry-regiment do any sort of hard work, or that young ladies of rank and position busy themselves with spinning? Yet there they come, alive and well, walking over the rape-stubble."--"Will you wait a few minutes, Zachariah?" said Hawermann. "They are coming straight towards us, and perhaps wish to speak to us."--"All right," said Brasig. "But I say, just look at the young lady wading through the stubble with a long train to her gown, and thin shoes!--Nay, Charles, life and suffering are one and the same thing, and the suffering always begins at the small end, with the feet for instance; and that this is true, witness my confounded gout, and the young lady's thin shoes.--But what I wanted to say was this, that your happiest time here is past and gone, for when the _Counsellor_ is dead, you may look out for squalls.--You will then see strange things come to pa.s.s with my lady, her unmarried daughters, and the lieutenant.--Charles," he continued, after a few minutes silent thought, "it would be well for you to be on good terms with the crown-prince."--"Oh, Brasig, what are you saying?" interrupted Hawermann. "I shall keep to the straight road."--"Yes, Charles, I do so too, and so does everyone who is not a Jesuit; but look at the young lady, she is also going along the straight road, but it leads her through the stubble!--Charles ....."

The young people had now come too near to allow him to finish his sentence, so he only added in a sort of aside: "A Jesuit? No! But he's a regular vocative case!"--

"Thank you, Mr. Hawermann, for waiting for us," said Alick von Rambow, coming up to them. "My sister and I set out on our walk with two different ends in view: her object was to find corn-flowers, and mine was to find horses. She can't find any cornflowers, and I can't see any horses."--"If you mean the common 'blue-bottle' by corn-flowers, Miss,"

said Brasig. "But," he interrupted himself, "what a pity, that confounded rape-stubble has torn your pretty dress," and he stooped down as though he were about to try his hand at lady's maid's work.--"Oh, it doesn't matter," cried the young lady, starting back, "it's an old dress. But where shall I find the corn-flowers?"--"I'll show you. There are a good lot of them down there on the Gurlitz march; you'll find blue-bottles, red poppies, white gules, and thistles; in short, a whole plantation of weeds."--"That is a capital plan, Fidelia," said her brother, "while you go in search of corn-flowers with Mr. Brasig, I will ask Mr. Hawermann to show me the young horses, for," turning to Hawermann, "you must know that my father was good enough to tell me this morning, that I might choose one of the best of the four-year-olds for my own use."--"I'll show them to you with great pleasure," answered Hawermann, "there are some really good horses amongst them."--So the two parties separated, and the last words Hawermann heard Brasig say as he walked away with Miss Fidelia were, that he was delighted to make her acquaintance, for he had once had a dog that was called "Fidel," and that it had been a splendid ratter.

Hawermann and the lieutenant went together to the paddock, and as they walked they naturally talked about farming. The lieutenant was of a lively disposition, and Hawermann had known him from his childhood, but the bailiff found that he had learnt nothing about the subject on which he was talking, that his views were inpracticable, and his questions were so wide of the mark and displayed so much ignorance, that he could not help saying to himself: "He's good-natured, very good-natured, but he's very ignorant, and--good G.o.d!--when his father dies he will have the estate, and will have to make his living out of it!"

After they had reached the paddock, and had examined each of the young horses separately, the lieutenant said to Hawermann: "Well, what do you say? Which ought I to take?"--"The brown," replied the bailiff.--"I like the black better, don't you see the beautiful arch of his neck, and what a finely shaped head he has?"--"Mr. von Rambow," said Hawermann, "you don't ride on the head or neck of a horse, but on its back and legs. You want a hack, and you'll get three times as much work out of the brown as the black."--"The black looks as if he were partly English?"--"You're quite right there, he is descended from Wild-fire; but the brown is of the old Mecklenburg breed, and it is a pity that these horses should be allowed to die out, that one should not take pains to keep up what is good in our own country but should exchange it for English racers."--"That may be all quite true," said Alick, "but as all the officers in my regiment have black horses, I shall decide on taking the black."

As Hawermann could not see the force of this reasoning, he remained silent, and the conversation on the way back was not so easy as before; but when they had nearly reached the house--right in front of the door, and as if he had been preparing for this last step--the lieutenant stopped the bailiff, and said with a deep sigh, and as if lifting a heavy burden from his breast: "Hawermann, I have long wished to have a little private talk with you.--Hawermann, I'm in debt--you must help me.--I owe a hundred and thirty-five pounds, and I _must_ have the money."--That was a bad proposal to make to Hawermann; but in really serious matters the bailiff used the influence of his age, he looked the young man of three and twenty full in the face, and said: "I can't help you in this, Mr. von Rambow."--"Hawermann, dear Hawermann, I'm desperately in want of the money."--"Then you ought to speak to your father."--"To my father? No, no! he has already paid so much for me, and now he is ill, it might do him harm."--"Still you should tell him.

Such things as this ought never to be discussed with strangers, they should always be arranged between father and son."--"Strangers?" asked Alick, looking at him reproachfully. "Do you really look upon me as such a complete stranger, Hawermann!"--"No, Mr. von Rambow, no,"

exclaimed Hawermann, seizing his young master's hand, "you are no stranger to me. And I will do anything for you that I possibly can.

This matter is in itself a mere nothing, and if I could not manage it alone, my friend Brasig would make up the rest; but, dear Mr. von Rambow, your father is your natural helper, and it would be wrong to pa.s.s him over."--"I can't tell my father," said Alick, plucking the leaves off a willow-tree near him.--"You _must_ tell him," cried Hawermann as emphatically as he could, "he feels that you are concealing some of your debts from him, and that pains him."--"Has he spoken to you about it?"--"Yes," replied Hawermann, "but only in connection with his own great need of money which you already know about."--"I know," said Alick, "and I also know the source from which my father received a.s.sistance.--Well, I can do what my father did before me," he added coldly and shortly as he entered the house.--"Mr.

von Rambow," cried Hawermann, following him hastily, "don't do that, for Heaven's sake, you won't succeed, and you'll only be in a more unpleasant position than before."--Alick would not listen to him.

A couple of hours later, lieutenant von Rambow was standing amongst the wool-sacks and sheep-skins in the Jew's house, where David found his amus.e.m.e.nt amongst the articles of his trade, and he seemed to be making a despairing last appeal to Moses, who kept determined hold of his purse-strings. "Really and truly, my lord Baron, I can't do it. And why not? Can't I make by it? Can't I make a good deal by it?--Look you, my lord Baron, there is David--David, what are you doing? What are you looking at? Come here, David.--Look you, my lord Baron, here he is standing before you and me, I won't give him the least sign, but will go quietly into the next room, and then you can ask David." And with that he walked right shoulder first into the next room.

Poor Alick's affairs must have been in a bad way before he would have had anything to do with such a person as David, for if he in his grand new uniform looked fit to draw the king's carriage, David's outer man was so shabby and ill-conditioned that he was worthy of nothing better than dragging a scavenger's cart. But in this sort of business appearance is nothing, the chief thing is to know how to act in any emergency, and David was quite up to the mark there. He had three qualities that stood him in very good stead; firstly, he had the incomparably sly, sharp expression and features of the Jewish usurer, and as he stood before lieutenant von Rambow, chewing a bit of cinnamon stalk he had taken from his mother's store-closet, as a remedy against the close woolly smell of the warehouse, and gazing at him with his head bent a little sideways, and one hand in his pocket, he looked as impudent as if the ghosts of all the rats that had died in the house, during all the years that he had carried on the wool-trade there, had entered into him: secondly, he knew himself to be a far harder and more unyielding man of business than his father, for having had so much to do with wool, skins, &c., which are known to be difficult things to deal with, had taught him much: and thirdly, he was quite up to the most approved method of drawing on, or holding off, a customer, and this he had also learnt in the wool-trade.

Naturally Alick could make nothing of such a highly gifted individual, and very soon turned to go away with a heavy heart. David was so pleased with the way in which he had conducted the case in hand, that he began to compa.s.sionate the young man, and felt inclined to give him a little friendly counsel, so he advised him to apply to attorney Slus'uhr, "for he has the money, and he will arrange matters for you."

Lieutenant von Rambow had scarcely closed the door when Moses rushed in, and exclaimed: "David, have you any conscience?--I'll tell you something, you have none!--How could you send the lad to such a cut-throat?"--"I have only sent him to his own people," replied David maliciously. "He's a soldier, so he's a cut-throat too. And even supposing that the attorney _does_ cut his throat, what's that to _you_? And if he cuts the attorney's throat, what's that to _me_?"--"David," said the old man, shaking his head, "I tell you again, you have no conscience."--"What is conscience?" growled David. "When you are doing business you send me away, and when you won't do business you call me."--"David," said his father, "you are too young," and with that he went into his room again.--"Am I too young?" muttered David between his teeth. "Am I always to be too young? Well, I know a place where I am not too young." Then he changed his coat, and set out in the same direction as he had sent the lieutenant, to the house of attorney Slus'uhr.

I do not know what he had to do there, but I know this, that young Mr.

von Rambow had to write a good many letters that evening when he got back to Pumpelhagen, and that he sent a cheque in each of them, and that when they were all finished he gave a deep sigh as if he had got rid of a heavy burden. He did not know that although he had weathered the first storm, he had acted like the old woman who heated the yeast in her baking trough.

CHAPTER V.

About ten o'clock in the morning, a few days later, the sun was peeping down on the garden of Gurlitz manor-house from behind a cloud. Her daughter, the earth, had been having a great was.h.i.+ng-day, and she wanted to give her beloved child a little help with the drying of the clothes. There is nothing more delightful than to see old mother sun looking down sympathetically, her broad kindly old face showing between the white sheets of cloud, and to see her seizing her watering-can now and then to sprinkle the linen. At such times she is always in high spirits, and, in spite of her old age and experience, is as changeable in her humour as a young girl who is in love for the first time. One moment she is sad and tearful, and the next laughing and joyous.

The old lady laughed heartily as she looked down on the garden at Gurlitz. "Well," she cried, scattering her golden laughter over plants and bushes, "one sees queer things sometimes in this stupid old world!

A neat white figure used to stand there, which by my help enabled those poor hungry children of men to know the exact time to eat their dinner, and now a fat, awkward looking fellow has taken its place, he has green-checked trousers on, and there is a pipe in his mouth. Nothing is done so foolishly anywhere else as in the world!" And with that she laughed merrily over the new squire, Mr. Pomuchelskopp, who was standing like a sun-dial, dressed in a yellow nankin-coat, and green-checked trousers, in the same place where the graceful heathen G.o.d Apollo used to be, except that while the G.o.d had a lyre in his hand, he was provided with a short pipe. The sun's face clouded over now and then when she saw her old friend, who, for so many years, had noted her doings faithfully, lying neglected among the rankgra.s.s and nettles.--And then she began to laugh again.

Pomuchelskopp laughed too. There was no smile to be seen on his face, but when stretching himself up as high as his short stature would allow, he gazed around him, his heart rejoiced and cried: "It is all mine! All mine!" He did not see the sun-beams which gilded the earth, these made no impression on him; but the sun-beam within him, which was caused by nothing better than pounds, s.h.i.+llings, and pence, lighted up his heart, though it did not show in his face. Before an expression of amus.e.m.e.nt could be seen there something very humorous must take place, and matter to call it forth was not wanting.

His two youngest children, Tony and Phil, had come out into the garden, and Phil had made himself a rod of docken and nettle-stalks, with which he beat the statue of the fallen G.o.d, and that made father Pomuchelskopp laugh most heartily, and Tony ran into the kitchen and got a bit of charcoal, and was just going to give him a moustache, when his father stopped him, and said: "Tony, don't do that, you may spoil it, and perhaps we may sell it, Tony. But you may thrash it as much as you like."--And so they beat the statue with their stinging rods, and father Pomuchelskopp laughed till he shook in his green-checked trousers.

At this moment "madam" appeared, and she was Pomuchelskopp's sterner half. She was extremely tall, and as angular as king Pharaoh's seven lean kine, her forehead was always wrinkled into a frown, as if the cares of the whole world were laid upon her, or as if she were always suffering a sort of martyrdom, or as if all the crockery broken by all the maid-servants throughout the world belonged to her, and her mouth had such a bitter curve that one would have thought that, she was accustomed to drink vinegar, and eat sorrel. She wore every morning, in spite of the hot summer-weather, a black merino dress that she had bought once when she was in mourning, and that must therefore be worn out, and when she changed it she put on a cotton gown which she had had dyed olive green with elder-bark; and on such occasions as Pomuchelskopp wore a blue coat and bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, she put on a cap with so many frills and furbelows that her weazened face peering out of it, looked for all the world like a half starved mouse in a bundle of tow; as for the rest of her dress, she wore petticoat on the top of petticoat, but still her poor shrunken legs looked like a couple of knitting-needles that had lost their way in a bag of odds and ends. At such times it was advisable that her servants should keep out of her way, for when she went about with velvet or silken streamers, her soul was weighed down with the constant fear, of unnecessary expense in housekeeping details.

She was a "mother" who pondered day and night how she might best make a waistcoat for Phil out of an old dress of Mally's. She loved her children according to the Scriptures, and so she chastened them, and Tony might count two slaps on the back for every stain on his coat, and two on the legs for every stain on his trousers. Yes, she was stern to her own flesh and blood, but still she was able to rejoice in due measure, as for instance to-day, when she came into the garden, and saw how her youngest olive-branches were amusing themselves, a smile then crossed her face like a pale gleam of suns.h.i.+ne in February when the earth is still frozen, and which seems to say: "Never fear, spring is coming at last."

She was the kind of wife of whom it might be said that she never in thought, word, or deed sinned against the letter of her duty, although Pomuchelskopp's conduct was rather trying, for in her opinion he was often guilty of too great levity; for instance, when he thought a joke a good one, he would laugh at it outright, and that was not seemly behaviour in the father of a family, and must necessarily end by impoveris.h.i.+ng him, and bringing her and her children to beggary. She therefore did more than she was bound to do by her marriage-vows, she discouraged such outward signs of mirth, and gave him of her own vinegar to drink, and of her own sorrel to eat. She lectured him--that is to say when they were alone--as if he were her youngest son Phil, she treated him as if he were still a child; in short, she bullied him after her own fas.h.i.+on.--She never beat him--G.o.d forbid!--She contented herself with words. She understood how to bring him round to her way of thinking by the mode of her address: if he were behaving with undignified thoughtlessness, she called him coldly and hardly by the last syllable of his name, "Kopp," for she generally addressed him by the two middle syllables, "Muchel;" but when he was acting so as to meet with her entire satisfaction, for instance, when he sat crossly in the corner of the sofa, and slashed angrily at the flies, she called him by the beginning of his name in a loving tone, "Poking."[6]

She did not call him "Poking" to-day. "Kopp," she said, to show her disapproval of his undignified manner of testifying his amus.e.m.e.nt at what the boys were doing, "Kopp, why are you standing there smoking like a chimney? Let us go and call at the parsonage."--"My chick,"

involuntarily taking the pipe out of his mouth, "we can set off at once if you like. I shan't be a moment in changing my coat."--"Coat? Why!

you don't suppose that _I_ am going to put on my best black silk?--We are only going to call on _our_ clergyman."--She laid as great an emphasis on the word "our," as if she had been speaking of her shepherd, or as if she thought that the parson was indebted to her for his daily bread.--"Just as you like, my Henny. I can put on my brown overcoat instead.--Phil, don't beat the statue any more, mama doesn't like it."--"Never mind the children, Kopp, you've got enough to do, to look after yourself. You'll go in your nankin-coat, it is clean and good."--"My chuck," said Pomuchelskopp, who, when he was of a different opinion from the wife of his bosom, always began with "Henny," and ended with "chuck," "always dress in good style, my dearest chuck. Even if we don't do it for the sake of the clergyman's family, let us do it for our own sake. And if Mally and Sally go with us, they ought to dress so as to make an imposing impression on the people at the parsonage."

This last reason was deemed a sufficient one, and gained Pomuchelskopp leave to put on his brown coat. He was made very happy by being allowed to have his own way, a piece of good fortune that did not often happen to him, so he felt proportionably grateful, and being desirous of pleasing his Henny in return for her kindness, he wished to make her partake in his joy. Let no one imagine however that Pomuchelskopp was so ill-bred as to give audible signs of merriment in his own house, no, he was always humble and quiet when there. He waved his hand towards the fields around him, and said; "Look, my chick, these all belongs to us!"--"Muchel," said madam shortly, "you are exaggerating, that is Pumpelhagen down there."--"You are right, Henny, that is Pumpelhagen.--But," he added, his little eyes twinkling avariciously as he looked down on Pumpelhagen, "who knows?--If I am spared, and if I sell my Pomeranian property well, and the times remain good, and the old _Counsellor_ dies, and his son contracts debts ....."--"Yes, Muchel," interrupted his affectionate wife with the satirical curl of her lip, which the world had to accept as her only subst.i.tute for a smile, for it was the nearest approach to one that ever was seen on her face, "yes, that is just like old Strohpagel, when he said: if I were ten years younger, and were steadier on my legs, and hadn't my wife, you would all see what sort of fellow I really am!"--"Henny," said Pomuchelskopp, putting on an injured expression, "how can you say such a thing? How could I ever wish to get rid of you? I should never have been able to buy Gurlitz without the eight thousand five hundred pounds you inherited from your father. And what a splendid place Gurlitz is!

All that land belongs to it," and he waved his hand as he spoke.--"Yes, Kopp," said his wife shortly, "except the glebe, which you have allowed to slip through your fingers."--"Dear me, chuck, will you never leave the subject of the glebe alone! What can I do?--You see I am a straightforward, honest man, so what chance have I with a couple of sly rogues like Hawermann and the parson? But we hav'n't done with each other yet, _Mounseer_ Hawermann! We'll have some thing to say to each other before long, reverend Sir!"

Three neat little maidens were seated in Mrs. Behrens' tidy parlour in Gurlitz parsonage on the same morning. They were plying their needles and tongues busily, for they were trying a race both in sewing and in talking, and as they sat there they looked as sweet and rosy in contrast with the white linen, as freshly plucked strawberries on a white plate. And these three children were Louisa Hawermann, and the twins, Lina and Mina Nussler.--"Children," said little Mrs. Behrens, on one of the many incursions from the kitchen into the parlour, "you can't think what a pleasure it is to me in my old age when I am laying the clean linen away in the chest, that I know exactly when I spun and hemmed each separate piece! How differently one treats it when one knows from experience how much trouble it has cost. Mina, Mina, that hem's all crooked. Goodness gracious me, Louisa, I believe you've been going on sewing without ever looking what you were about, don't you see that you haven't got a knot on your thread! Now I must go and see that the potatoes are boiling properly, for my pastor will soon be in," and then she hastened from the room, only popping her head in at the door again to say, "Mina and Lina, you are to remain to dinner," and so she kept flying about between kitchen and parlour in measured time like the pendulum of a clock and keeping everything in good order in both.

But how was it that Lina and Mina had joined Mrs. Behrens'

sewing-cla.s.s? This was how it happened--When the two little girls had grown so old that they could p.r.o.nounce the letter "r," and no longer cared about playing with the sand-box, but ran after Mrs. Nussler all day long, saying: "What shall we do now, mother?" Mrs. Nussler told young Joseph that it was high time for the children to have some schooling: they must have a governess. Joseph had no objection, and his brother-in-law Baldrian the schoolmaster, was commissioned to engage one. When the governess had been six months at Rexow, Mrs. Nussler said she was a discontented old woman who did nothing but nagg at the children all day long, and made her so uncomfortable that she scarcely felt at home in her own house. So that governess had to take her departure.--Kurz, the shop-keeper, chose the next, and one day, when no one in Rexow had any suspicion of what was going to happen, the door opened, and in marched an enormous woman, as tall as a grenadier, with strongly marked eye-brows, a yellow complexion, and spectacles on her nose, who introduced herself as the "new governess." She then began to speak French to the two little girls, and finding that they were innocent of all knowledge of that language, she addressed herself to young Joseph in the same tongue. Such a thing had never happened to young Joseph before, and it astonished him so much that he let his pipe go out, and as they were drinking coffee at the time, he said, in order to say something: "Mother, fill the new teacher's cup."--Well, in a very short time the new governess ruled the whole house, but at last Mrs. Nussler who had borne it bravely as long as she could, said: "Stop, this will never do. If any one is to rule here, it is I, for I am the 'nearest,' as Mrs. Behrens would say," and so the grenadier had to march.--Uncle Brasig now tried what he could do, "so that the little round-heads might learn something." He engaged what he called a "capital teacher," and "one who is always merry, and who is not to be beat in playing the piano-forty."--He was right. One evening in winter a red-faced, smiling little woman arrived at Rexow, and she had not been ten minutes in the house before she fell upon the newly bought second-hand piano, and beat it and thumped it as if she were thres.h.i.+ng out corn. When she had gone to bed, young Joseph opened the piano, but as soon as he found out that three of the strings were broken, he shut it again, and said: "What's to be done now?"--There was great fun and laughter in the house in those days, for the governess played and frisked about with the little girls, till Mrs. Nussler came to the conclusion that her eldest daughter Lina was on the whole a more sensible person than her teacher. She wanted to know what the children were taught, and therefore begged Madmoiselle to draw out a plan of lessons, and let her see it. Next day Lina brought her a large sheet of paper containing the plan, which was as follows: German, French, orthography, geography, religion, Scripture history, and the other kind of history, and Bible natural history, and at the end came music, music, music, music.--"Ah well," said she to Joseph, "she may teach music as much as she likes, if only the religion is all right. What do you think, Joseph?"--"Oh," said Joseph, "it all depends upon circ.u.mstances!"--Nothing more would have been said, if Mrs. Nussler had not accidentally found out from Lina that the time that ought to have been devoted to Scripture history, was spent in playing at ball, and soon afterwards when she happened to be upstairs at the time of the religious lesson, she heard peals of laughter from the school-room, and on going there to see what sort of religion was being taught, she found--Mademoiselle playing at Tig with the children. Mrs. Nussler would have nothing to say to a religious lesson of that kind, and so Mademoiselle "Jack in the box" had to beat a retreat like her forerunner the grenadier.

The worst of it was that it was in the middle of the quarter, and Mrs.

Nussler complained of the children being always in her way, to which Joseph merely said: "Oh, what can I do?" but at the same time he began to study the Rostock newspaper very attentively, and one day he put down the paper, and desired Christian to get the phaeton ready. His wife was rather uneasy because she had no idea what he was going to do, but as soon as she saw that his mouth was even more drawn down to the left than usual, which was his way of giving a friendly smile, she said to herself: "Let him be, he has got some kindly thought in his head."--Three days later Joseph returned, bringing with him a shadowy lady of a certain age, and the news spread like wild-fire: "Only think, young Joseph has engaged a governess by himself this time!"--Brasig came on the following Sunday and looked her over, he was pretty well satisfied with her, "but," he said, "mark my words, young Joseph, she has got nerves."--Brasig had not only a great knowledge of horses, he had also a knowledge of men, and he was right. Mademoiselle had nerves, many nerves. The twins had to go about the house on tip-toe.

Mademoiselle took Mina's ball away from her because she had once thrown it against her window by mistake, and locked the piano to prevent Lina playing, "Our cat has nine kittens," the only air which Miss "Jack in the box" had taught her.--

In course of time Mademoiselle had fits of rigidity in addition to her nerves, and Mrs. Nussler had to rush and administer all sorts of reviving drops to her, and Frida and Caroline had to sit up with her at night, for one would have been afraid to do it alone. "I should send her away if I were you," said Uncle Brasig, but Mrs. Nussler was too kind-hearted to do that, she sent for the doctor instead.--Dr. Strump came from Rahnstadt, and when he had looked at the clenched teeth of the patient, he said it was a very interesting case, and explained it by saying that he had lately been studying "The night-side of human nature."--Young Joseph and his wife thought no evil, except that they had been obliged to get up in the night several times, but something else was to come.--One day when the doctor was there Caroline rushed down-stairs: "Mistress, Mistress, the illness is at its height. The doctor has been waving his hands before Mamselle's face, and now she's prophesying, and she's telling the truth too. She told me that I had a sweetheart."--"Heaven preserve me!" said Brasig who happened to be there. "The young woman ought to be in an asylum!"--And then he followed Mrs. Nussler upstairs.--After a little he came down again, and asked: "What do you say _now_, young Joseph?"--Joseph sat silently thinking for some time, at last he said: "It's no use, Brasig."--"Joseph," said Brasig, striding up and down as he spoke, "I advised you to send her away before, but now I say, _don't_ send her away. I asked her what sort of rain we shall have to-morrow, and she answered in her sun-and-bulist state, that we should have a regular plump. If there is a plump tomorrow, take your perometer down from the wall--perometers are of no more use, and yours has been standing at 'set fair' for the last two years--and then you can hang her in its place, and so make the fortune of the whole neighbourhood."--Young Joseph made no reply, and when he saw how frightfully it rained the next day, he still said nothing, but pondered over the marvellous circ.u.mstance for three days in silence. The news, meanwhile, spread throughout the countryside that young Joseph had engaged a prophetess, and that she had prophesied the heavy rain which had fallen on the previous Sat.u.r.day, and also that Caroline Krauger and Mr. Farm-bailiff Brasig should be married before the year was out.--Naturally Dr. Strump was not behind-hand in publis.h.i.+ng the details of the interesting case he was attending, and before long Mrs. Nussler's quiet house became the meeting-place of all the neighbourhood, every one going there either from curiosity or to study the case from a scientific point of view; and as Mrs. Nussler would have nothing to do with it, and young Joseph would have nothing to do with it, Zachariah Brasig took the case in hand when the doctor was not there, and conducted the visitors up-stairs to Madmoiselle's apartment, and explained the nature of somnambulism to them. Christian, the coach-man, held watch by Madmoiselle's bed, because he was so brave that he did not fear the devil himself, and Caroline and Frida were too frightened to remain in the room, even in company, and indeed they did not consider it a proper occupation for them, for they thought a somnambulist must be a very wicked person.--Amongst the visitors was the young Baron von Mallerjahn of Graunenmur, who came every day to enquire scientifically into the affair, and who at last used to go up to see Madmoiselle without waiting for Brasig. Mrs. Nussler was very angry when she found out that he did so, and told Joseph that he ought to be present at the interviews, but her husband answered that Christian was there, and so there was no need of him. At last however Christian came down, and said that the young Baron had turned him out of the room because he smelt too strongly of the stable, and that made Mrs. Nussler cry with anger, and if Brasig had not appeared at that moment she would herself have ordered the Baron out of the house, but Brasig of course undertook to do it for her. He therefore went up-stairs, and said politely, but firmly: "My lord, will you be so good as to look at the other side of the door?"--The Baron seemed to understand what was meant, for he smiled rather constrainedly, and said that he was just then in magnetic rapport with Mademoiselle. "What do you mean by a 'monetary report?'"

said Brasig, "we want none of your money here, nor your reports either; that's the reason that Christian was told to sit here."--Now Brasig was, without knowing it, in magnetic rapport himself, for whenever he saw Mrs. Nussler shed tears, it put him in a rage, so he now ended by saying angrily: "And now, Sir, I must beg of you to go at once."--The Baron was naturally put out at being addressed in such an unceremonious manner, and asked haughtily, if Brasig knew that he was extremely rude.--"If you call that rude," cried Brasig, seizing the Baron by the arm, "I'll soon show you something else."--The noise they made wakened Mademoiselle from her sleep, she started up off the sofa, and, seizing the Baron by the other arm, declared that she would remain there no longer; no one understood her except him, and she would go with him.--"That's the best thing to do," said Brasig. "One ought always to speed the parting guest. Two flies at one blow!" he concluded, showing them down-stairs.

The Baron's carriage drove up to the door, and the Baron himself looked nervous and uncomfortable, but Mademoiselle was determined. "Well, well, what's to be done now?" said young Joseph as he watched the departure from the window.--"Young Joseph," said Brasig as the carriage drove out of the yard, "it all depends upon circ.u.mstances, and it's hard to say. And, Mrs. Nussler, let them be, the Baron will soon find out now how to manage his monetary report."

For some time past Hawermann had been a great deal from home on his master's business, and when he returned for a few days he had too much to do about the farm to have time to attend to anything else. He had, it is true, gone to see his sister once or twice, and had comforted her by a.s.suring her that the governess was ill, and would of course soon get well again, but once when he came home he found that the doings at Rexow were the talk of the whole neighbourhood. He was told that young Joseph's sleeping Mademoiselle had run away with the Baron von Mallerjahn, and that before she left she had infected Brasig with the gift of prophecy, and Christian with that of sleeping, so that Brasig now prophesied as he went about, and Christian could sleep standing.

Hawermann went to Mr. Behrens, asked him to tell him the rights of the story, and to accompany him to his sister's house. "With pleasure, Hawermann, I'll go with you gladly," said the clergyman, "but, to tell you the truth, I have not taken any notice of the affair on principle.

I know that many of my brethren in Christ have tried the effect of exorcism when such cases have fallen under their notice, but in my opinion, in illnesses of this kind, the doctor is the proper person to consult, and sometimes," he added with a sly smile, "the police are of more use than any one else."