New-Year's day, 1846, had come, and brought its kind wishes, and the Rahnstadters congratulated each other, in the cold streets, or in the warm parlors, just as it happened, and some people slept until noon, and ate pickled herrings, because it was Sylvester's eve, and there was much talk among the young people of this and that, which had happened at the ball, yesterday, and the old folks sat together, and talked of what had happened, not indeed at the ball, but in the world. And the story of Habermann and Herr von Rambow was a chief dish, which was served up at all tables; and as every house had its own cookery, so it had also its own gossip, one believed the story so, and another so, and each suited it to his own palate, and invited his neighbor as guest, and Slusuhr and David went everywhere, as unbidden guests, and the one added his pepper, and the other his garlic to the dish. And so, for the city of Rahnstadt and the region round about the story and the slander became richer in its process, as each seasoned it with his favorite spice: Habermann had for years been cheating his two masters, and had accummulated a great pile of money, which was the reason why the young Herr von Rambow was always in pecuniary embarrassment; he had gone halves with the lay-laborer Regel, in his robbery, and had helped him off and given him a recommendation. Whether Jochen Nüssler had assisted in the conspiracy, people were not definitely informed. But at last the apothecary Triddelsitz's son, who was an uncommonly wideawake and discreet young man, had come upon the track, by secretly examining Habermann's books, in which he discovered the whole imposition, word for word. He had told it to the housekeeper, Marie Möller, and they both agreed that Triddelsitz must take the book till Habermann had gone, and the considerate young man did so, and carried it with him to Demmin, intending to deliver it afterwards to Herr von Rambow. But, the next day, Habermann had missed the book, and was persuaded that Herr von Rambow had taken it, so he went to him, and told him he was a rascal, and demanded his book again, and when the young Herr could not give it him, he aimed a rifle at his breast. The young Herr would not bear that, and grappled with him for the rifle, and it went off, and the Herr von Rambow was now lying at the point of death. Habermann was doubtless in concealment, somewhere in the city. This was pretty nearly the story which the Rahnstadters had pieced together, and everybody wondered that the burgomeister did not have such a dangerous man put in prison.
There were, fortunately, two intelligent beings in the city, who would not bite at the story; one was Moses, who, when David told him of the affair, said merely, "David, you are too stupid!" and went about his business, the other was the burgomeister himself, who shook his head and also went about his business. The Rector Baldrian did not go about his business, for he had a vacation, and he said if the whole city said so there must be something in it, but so much he would say, and he would go to the sacrament upon it, his Gottlieb's father-in-law, Jochen Nüssler, was not in the conspiracy. Kurz said it was possible, but he would never have suspected it of old Habermann; but no one could read the heart of another. Meanwhile, he must say, one thing seemed to him improbable, that Fritz Triddelsitz could have acted with much discretion, and he believed that part of the business must have happened differently. Just for the reason that his Fritz had distinguished himself, the apothecary believed in the story, and told it all over the city, that he might increase his dear son's celebrity.
And so strangely does destiny play with us. At this very moment when Fritz's renown was spread through the whole city, he himself stood before that dreadful criminal, Habermann, in the guise of a penitent sinner, begging him earnestly to forgive his share in the trouble, he had not done it intentionally. Habermann stroked his chestnut hair, and said, "Let it go Triddelsitz! But notice one thing; many a good action has evil consequences in the world, and many an evil one has good; but we are not responsible for the consequences, those lie in other hands, and the consequences do not make an action either good or bad. If you had not done wrong, in deceiving me about your grain-account, your conscience would not trouble you, and you need not have stood before me thus. But I forgive you; and now take the receipt for the money, and be a good, steady fellow! And now, good-bye!"
He gave him a receipt, for the gracious Frau had sent him his salary, and this money he had paid out, by Fritz.
Fritz went to the inn, when he had left his horse. There were many people there and they flocked around him: "Well, how is it? You did that well!" "Is the Herr von Rambow dangerously hurt?" "Then he is still living!" "Do let Herr Triddelsitz speak!" "Just tell us----" "No, just tell us, have you got Habermann?"
Fritz was in no mood for narration, he had no desire to expose his own stupidity; he pushed through the crowd, with a few general remarks, and mounted his horse, and the Rahnstadters said, with one accord, he was a very discreet young man, he would not sound his own praises.
If the Rahnstadters gathered about Fritz, in their curiosity, as if he were a bottle of syrup, and they the flies, they were to have a still richer treat; this New-year's day was to be a real news-day. Scarcely had Fritz, outwardly so proud and reserved, inwardly so dejected and penitent, ridden away from the door, when a carriage drove up to the inn,--the gentleman driving himself, and the coachman sitting behind,--and the Rahnstadters flattened their noses against the window panes; who could that be? "He looks wonderfully familiar to me," said one. "Yes, I have surely seen him before," said another. "Is it not----" began a third. "Eh, what? No, it is'nt the one you think," said Bank, the shoemaker. "I know him," said Wimmersdort the tailor, "I have made him many a coat, that is the Herr von Rambow who lives beyond Schwerin, at Hogen-Selchow, the cousin of the Pumpelhagen Herr." "The tailor is right, it is he." "Yes, it is he." "Probably he comes on account of this story." "That must be it, for the Pumpelhagen Herr lies so low, he can attend to nothing. You shall see, he will take the business in hand." And as Franz came in to lay off his furs, the Rahnstadters all stood with their backs against the windows, with their backs against the stove, with their backs against the walls, and all looked to the middle of the room, where Franz stood, as it were, surrounded by a web of curiosity, from which all the threads ran to the middle, where he was caught, like a helpless fly.
Franz went out, spoke a couple of words to the servant, and went off towards the market. "Johann," asked one from the window, "what did he say to you?" "Ah," said Johann, "he only asked after the burgomeister, if he was at home." "Did you hear? he asked after the burgomeister; he is going to work in earnest." "Johann," said another, "did he say nothing else?" "Yes, he asked where the parson's wife lived, who has moved here lately, near Kurz the shopkeeper." "Ha, ha! Do you notice that? The inspector is probably stowed away, with the parson's wife. Well, good-bye."
"Gossip Wimmersdorf, where are you going?" "Oh, I shall drop in at Kurz's." "Wait, I will go too." "That is so," said another, "at Kurz's, we can see everything finely." "Yes, let us go to Kurz's," and it was not long before Kurz's shop was fuller of customers than he had seen it for a long time, and every one took a dram, and some two, and Kurz said to himself, "Thank God! the new year begins finely."
After a while, Franz came back from the market, and went past Kurz's shop, directly up to the Frau Pastorin's door.
"How? He has no policeman with him!" said one.
"Yes, Hoppner is not at home, he has gone to get a pig to-day, from the farmer at Prebberow."
"Oh, that is all right, then."
"How Habermann will feel, when he finds himself caught!" said Wimmersdorf.
"Children, my feet are getting cold," said Bank, the shoemaker, "I am going home."
"What? You may as well wait till the business comes to a head," said Thiel, the cabinet-maker.
"What do you know about it?" said Bank. "It seems to me as if there was'nt a word of truth in the whole story."
"What? You told me the story, yourself, this morning," said Thiel.
"Yes, that is so, but morning talk is not evening talk. I have considered the matter since then."
"That is to say, you have got cold feet over it," said the tailor. All laughed.
"That is a stupid joke," said the shoemaker, "and the whole story is a stupid joke; the old inspector has traded with me all these years, and has always paid his accounts honestly, and is he likely, in his old age, to take to cheating and stealing?"
"Eh, you may talk! But when the whole city says so?"
"Eh, the whole city! Here stands Herr Kurz, ask him if he has'nt always paid honestly! Ask the man what he says to it!"
"What I say to it? I say nothing," said Kurz, "but I don't believe it, and I have my own reasons."
"There, do you hear?"
"Yes, it may possibly be so."
"Yes, I said, all along, the matter looked very strange to me."
"Well," said Wimmersdorf, "he never traded with me, and I don't see why I should'nt believe it."
"Eh, tailor, don't let yourself be laughed at!"
"Yes, children, laugh at the tailor!"
"Now, I will tell you something," said Bank, smiting with his fist on the counter. "Come here, all of you,--Herr Kurz, fill the glasses once more! Now let us all drink to our brave, old, honest inspector!"
And they did so, and went home with a stronger belief than ever in Habermann, and with all of them, except Wimmersdorf the tailor, the old man was reinstated in his good name. Why? Because Bank the shoemaker had cold feet.
Upon such little things often depends good or evil opinion. Here, the good prevailed; but what availed the good opinion of a few insignificant mechanics against that secret, invisible power which determined the fate of the children of men in this little city, and held the entangled threads of happiness and misery in its hand, and pulls them, so that one must dance on the string, at its will? I mean that secret tribunal which the women folks hold, in the quiet evening hours, to the terror of all evil-doers, over their knitting and tea. There, every sinner gets his deserts, he is pricked with the knitting-needles, pinched with the sugar-tongs, burned in the spirit-lamp, and every biscuit or muschüken[9]soaked in the teacups gives a faithful picture of the condition of his terrified soul, if he were standing before this tribunal. What did this Rahnstadt Female Assembly care for Hans Bank's good opinion, or his cold feet? What for Habermann's well-paid accounts? These judges went seriously to work; they first took account, in an intelligent manner, of the antecedents,--as jurists say,--and they found the case very weak, for Habermann, for Louise, for the Frau Pastorin, even for Bräsig. Malchen and Salchen Pomuchelskopp had circulated all the particulars, here a little drop and there a little drop, Salchen had gathered those precious pearls together, and arranged them in proper order, and even David had helped a little, and so the Female Assembly had a very correct representation of Franz's attachment to Louise, of Habermann's and the Frau Pastorin's match-making, and of Bräsig's scandalous tale-bearing, which they were qualified to make use of, in the best possible manner.
The preliminaries had just been disposed of, when the wife of the city Syndic, (Recorder,) and the merchant's wife. Madam Krummhorn, came in together, and received a friendly scolding from the hostess, because they were so late. They defended themselves, in rather a condescending way, saying nothing of importance, but they sat down with such a swing, and took out their knitting with such significant shaking of heads, that the high tribunal must have been excessively stupid, if it had not observed that they had something special on their minds. It did its duty, beginning to feel round, by degrees, but the Frau Syndic and the Frau Krummhorn were prepared for resistance, and pinched their lips together, like live oysters, and the knives applied by the high tribunal were not successful in opening the shells. With sighs, the assembly took up its knitting-work, and soaked a couple of fresh muschüken in its tea, and with horror the two oysters became aware that their fast-locked news was stale, and that the best juice had run out from it; they opened, therefore, of their own accord, and the Frau Syndic asked the burgomeisterin, if a young gentleman had not called on the Herr Burgomeister that afternoon. Yes, said the Frau Burgomeisterin, the cousin of Herr von Rambow had been to see her husband, they had just been speaking of it.
"And what did he want?" asked the Frau Syndic.
"To inform himself how the examination about the stolen money had resulted, and he also asked whether the stories in Pumpelhagen--you know, the shooting--had any connection with that affair."
"And what else?" inquired Frau Syndic, looking down at her knitting.
"My husband has told me nothing more," said the burgomeisterin.
"And do you believe that?" asked Frau Syndic. Now it is a shame, before any tribunal, especially before such as this, to expect it to believe any simple, natural story. The burgomeisterin felt the accusation, which was implied in this question, and said sharply:
"If you know it better, dear, tell it yourself."
One oyster looked at the other, and both laughed aloud. Well, when such a fat oyster--for the Frau Syndic was fat, and Frau Krummhorn was also well-to-do--laughs so at another, it makes a great impression upon people, and as a natural consequence the company laid their knitting in their laps, and looked at the oysters.
"Good heavens!" cried the hostess, at last, "what do you know?"
"Frau Krummhorn may tell," said Frau Syndic, coolly. "She saw it as well as I."
Frau Krummhorn was a good woman, she could relate well and skilfully; but her gift of the gab had one failing, it was like Protonotary Scharfer's legs,--rudderless; and just like the protonotary, she was obliged to call out to one and another, "Hold me fast!" or "Turn me round!" She began: "Yes, he came right across the market-place."
"Who?" asked a stupid little assessor, who could not comprehend the business.
"Keep still!" cried everybody.
"So, he came right across the market-place. I knew him again directly, he had bought himself a new suit, of my husband, a black dress-coat, and blue trousers, eh, what do I say! a blue dress-coat and black trousers: I can see him, as if it were yesterday, he always wore yellow-leather breeches and boot-tops,--or was that Fritz Triddelsitz? I really am not quite sure. Yes, what was I saying?"
"He came right across the market-place," said a chorus of three voices.
"Exactly! He came right across the market-place, and into the Frau Syndic's street, I had just gone into Frau Syndic's, for she wanted to show me her new curtains, they came from the Jew Hirsch's,--no, I know,--the Jew Bären's, who has lately become bankrupt. It is remarkable, my husband says, how all our Jews become bankrupt, and yet grow richer all the time, no Christian merchant can compete with these confounded Jews. How far had I got?"
"He came into the Frau Syndic's street."
"Ah, yes! The Frau Syndic and I were standing at the window, and could look right into the parlor of the Frau Pastorin Behrens, and the Frau Syndic said her husband had told her, if the Frau Pastorin would go to law about it,--no, not the Frau Pastorin, it was the Church, or else the Consistory,--then Herr Pomuchelskopp, or somebody else, must build a new parsonage at Gurlitz, and the Frau Syndic----"
But the Frau Syndic could contain herself no longer,--in putting up Frau Krummhorn to tell the story, she had prepared a fine rod for her own impatience, so she interrupted her, without ceremony:
"And then he went into the Frau Pastorin's and, without waiting, right into the parlor, and the old Frau rose from the sofa, and made such a motion of the hand, as if she would keep him away from her, and looked as distressed as if a misfortune had happened to her, and that might well be the case; and then she placed a chair, and urged him to sit down; but he did not sit down, and when the Frau Pastorin went out, he walked up and down the room, like--like----"
"Frau Syndic," said Frau Krummhorn, "you repeated a fine couplet this afternoon."
"Why, yes. 'King of deserts is the Lion, when he strides along his path.' Well, he strode up and down like such a king of deserts, and when the old inspector and his daughter came in, he rushed up to them, with the bitterest reproaches."
"But, good gracious!" said the little assessor, laying her knitting in her lap, "could you hear, then?"
"No, dear," said Frau Syndic, laughing at the stupidity of the little assessor, "we did nothearit; but Frau Krummhorn and I bothsawit, saw it with our own eyes. And the old inspector stood before him, like a poor sinner, and looked down, and let it all go over his head, and his daughter threw her arm about his neck, as if she would protect him."
"Yes," interrupted Frau Krummhorn, "it was just so, as when old Stahl, the cooper, was arrested, because he had stolen hoops. His daughter Marik sprang between him and the policeman, Hoppner, and would not let her father be taken to the Rath-house, because of his white hair; but he had stolen the hoops, I am sure of it, for I had him put three new hoops about my milk-pail, and my husband said it was all the same to us, whether they were stolen or not, and for the milk also, it would not turn sour, on account of the stolen hoops; but I have noticed----"
"Right, Frau Krummhorn," said Frau Syndic, stopping her, "you noticed, also, how pale the girl looked, and how she trembled, when the young Herr turned to her, and released himself."
"No," said Frau Krummhorn, honestly, "she looked pale, but I did not see that she trembled."
"Isaw it," said the Frau Syndic, "she trembled likethat," shaking herself back and forth in her chair, as if it were a warm summer day, and she were shaking off the flies,--"and he stood before her, like this,"--here she stood up--"'The last link is broken,' as my son, the student, sings, and he looked at herso," and here she looked so angrily at the little assessor, that the latter grew quite red, "and then the old Frau Pastorin thrust herself between them, and tried to quiet her, and soothed him, and talked so much, and perhaps succeeded in a measure, for he gave them both the hand, at parting; but when he left the house, it was clearly to be read in his face, how glad he was that he had broken off with this company. Wasn't it so, Frau Krummhorn?"
"I didn't see that," said the merchant's wife, "I was looking at the young girl, how she stood with her arms crossed on her breast, and so pale. God bless me! I have seen pale girls enough,--only lately, my brother's daughter, she has the pale sickness, and the doctor is always saying, 'Iron! iron!' but she has iron enough, her father is a blacksmith. He might have been something very different, for our late father----"
"Ah, the poor girl!" cried the stupid little assessor, "she is such a pretty girl. And the poor old man! I cannot believe that, with his white hair, he has done such dreadful things."
"Dear," said the Frau Syndic, with a look at the little assessor, which, interpreted into ordinary language, meant "You goose!"--"dear, be careful of such indiscriminate compassion, and beware how you associate with people who are connected with criminals."
"Yes, he has done it," went from mouth to mouth, from stocking to stocking, from cup to cup. The little assessor was silenced; but all at once, a couple of gray, old, experienced advocates stood up for her, who usually in the tea-fights were retained as state-attorneys for the prosecution, but, to-day, undertook the defense. They had looked at each other and nodded, during the Frau Syndic's speech; they would let her tell it all out quietly, and then they would free their minds. And the Frau Syndic had done a stupid thing, she had forgotten the relationship, for the two old advocates were Frau Kurz, and Frau Rectorin Baldrian, and now was their time, and they took the Frau Syndic by the collar:
"Dear, how do you know that Habermann is a criminal?"
"Darling, didn't you know that Habermann is brother-in-law to my brother?"
"Dear, you should be careful of your sharp tongue."
"Darling, you have often got into trouble on account of it."
So they shot each other, with "Dear" and "Darling," back and forth across the table, and the tea-spoons clattered in the cups, and the cap-ribbons fluttered under the chins, the innocent knitting-work was bundled together, and stuffed into bags; the Frau Burgomeisterin took sides with the two advocates, for she had not forgotten the Frau Syndic's sharp words; the hostess ran from one to another, and begged by all that was holy, they would not disgrace her so sadly, as to break out into such a quarrel at her tea, and the little assessor began to cry bitterly, for she believed that she was the cause of the whole disturbance. But the mischief was done; half went away, the other half stayed, and Rahnstadt was divided into two parties.
And the people, about whom all the fuss was made, were sitting, if not peacefully, yet quietly, in their room, with no suspicion how much trouble and breaking of heads they had caused to their next neighbors, and how much strife and hatred. They had no idea that the stern look, which the Frau Syndic shot across the street from her red face signified anything to them, and the little Frau Pastorin remarked more than once, "From her looks the Frau Syndic must be a very determined and energetic person, who would keep good order in her household." And Louise had no suspicion that the pretty young girl, who went back and forth past their house, and cast many a stolen glance at her window, was filled to the depths of her heart with sympathy for her, and that this was the foolish little assessor, who had taken her part at the tea-fight.
Ah no, these people had something quite different to think of, and to care about; Louise must keep her sick heart still, and conceal it from the world, that her father might not see its bleeding wounds, which the visit of Franz had torn open afresh; Habermann was more quiet and profoundly thoughtful, after this visit than before; he had neither eyes nor thoughts for anything but his child. He sat lost in reflection, only, when his daughter looked paler and more absent-minded than usual, he would spring up, and run out into the little garden, and walk up and down, till he became composed. Ah, where was his hatred, when he saw his child's love! Where was his anger against the world, when, in the world nearest him, he saw only kindness and friendliness? Hate and anger must disappear from such a heart; but sadness remained, and the most pitiful compassion, for the destiny of his only child. The little Frau Pastorin thought no longer of her duster, she had something else to care for than tables and chairs. She must clear away the rubbish from two hearts, which had grown fast to her own, and she polished away at them, with her efforts to comfort, till they should be bright and clear again: but her labor was in vain, at least with Habermann. The sinews of the old man's strength were cut, with his good name, every joy and hope of life was gone, and the unwonted quiet and inaction made him more and more depressed, so that his case would have been a lamentable one, if the sweet voice of his child had not sometimes banished the evil spirit, as the singing of the youthful David the evil spirit of King Saul. All that Franz had urged so impressively, that the chief difficulty was removed by the finding of the book, that he must know what a weak, inconsiderate creature his cousin Axel was, and that his judgment could not harm him, thatheshould believe in him, though all the world were against him, for he had another world in his own breast; all this, which the Frau Pastorin repeated, he put aside, and remained firm in his resolve that, so long as his innocence was not fully established about the stolen money, so long his name was branded with disgrace, and he must hold back the young man, even against his will, that his own reputation might not be injured.
This was now, seen by daylight, sheer nonsense, and many a one might here ask, with reason, Why did he not, with his good conscience, go freely and boldly before the world, and scorn their lying rumors? And I agree, the question is reasonable; he should have done it, and he would have done it, if he had still been theoldHabermann. But he was so no longer, through provocations, injuries and neglect, he had grown morbid, and now came this open accusation, and the dreadful scene with his master, and the young Frau had deserted him, for whom he would have given his life, and all this happened at a time when his heart had just opened to the hope of a happy future. The frosts of winter do no harm; spring will yet come; but when everything is fresh and growing, and the snow falls upon our green hopes, then there is snow and trouble, and all the little song-birds, who were building and pairing with the spring, are chilled and frozen in their nests, and the blighted groves are silent as death. The old man had prepared a great feast in his heart, and would welcome to it the fairest hopes, and now dark forms crowded in, and turned everything to confusion, and took away the only treasure, which he had laid up in his whole life; that gave him a blow, from which he could not recover. Take away a miser's treasure, which he has been scraping together for sixty years, and you take his life with it, and that is but a treasure which rust can devour; what is it to an honest name?
So the Frau Pastorin's only comfort lay in the last words of Franz: he could wait, and he should come again.
So Habermann kept himself to himself, and sat in his room, or went into the garden, when the Frau Pastorin had visitors; and that was often the case, for one half of Rahnstadt believed they were causing great annoyance to the other half, who had put the Frau Pastorin's house under the ban, if they visited her frequently. So it came to pass, that the Rector Baldrian and Kurz the merchant were continually dropping in at the Frau Pastorin's; for their wives had discoursed to them so impressively, at home, over Habermann's innocence, that it was impossible for them to retain any doubt of it. From outside the city, came young Jochen, and his wife, and Mining, and also Pastor Gottlieb and Lining, often, of an afternoon; but Bräsig came at all times, and made the Frau Pastorin's house his dove-cote, where his innocent old heart flew in and out, with a crop full of news, which he had gathered in Rexow, and Pumpelhagen, and Gurlitz, for his old friend. He informed him that the earth was dry,--that is to say, the fields,--but he did not always bring the olive-branch in his beak; when the talk was about Pomuchelskopp and Axel, he let it fall, in his anger, and the dove became a veritable raven. He was not to be brought back, when he had flown away, and he told Habermann to his face he came to divert him to other thoughts, and if it did not please him, he did not take it ill; but would come again the next day, with much to tell about the weather and the farming.
And in the spring of 1846, there was much to tell about these subjects. The winter had been warm and moist, and the spring came so early, that scarcely any one could remember the like; in February the grass was green, and the winter wheat was up and the clover sprouting, and the ground was wonderfully dry, and the farmers went about, considering if it were not time to plant peas. "Karl," said Bräsig, "you shall see, it will be a pitiful story, the spring is too early, and when a bird sings too soon in the morning, the cat catches him before night; you shall see, we shall look sad enough, at the harvest. The devil take such early springs!" And on Palm-Sunday, he came into Habermann's room, with an open rape-blossom in his hand, and laid it on the table before him. "There, you see, it, is just as I told you! I picked that from your rape in Pumpelhagen. You shall see, Karl, in a week the louis-d'ors will be out; but it is of no good, full of bugs from top to bottom."
"Eh, Zachary, we have often had it so, and yet had a good crop of rape."
"Yes, Karl, theblack; but thegray,--I have brought you the proof for your entertainment," and he reached to the table and picked out a little chrysalis; but when he opened it, there was nothing in it.
"That is what I say, Karl! These old skulking gray chafers are such sly old dogs, they are not to be reckoned on, and no more is the mischief they do. You shall see, Karl, this whole year will be a spoiled omelet, everything is going contrary to nature. How? Usually you will see crows in the rye, by May-day; this year you will see half-grown turkeys there! No, Karl, the world has turned round, and in some places the pastors are already preaching from their pulpits that the moon has crowded in between the sun and the earth, and that then the sun comes too near to the earth, and everything will be destroyed, that this is the beginning of the last day, and that people must repent."
"Ah, Zachary, that is all stuff and nonsense."
"So I say, Karl, and the repenting has turned out badly, in some places, for at Little Bibow, the day-laborers have struck work, and sold their bits of possessions to the Jews, and drink from morning to night, because they want to enjoy their property here. My Pastor Gottlieb would have preached something of the kind, but I stood by Lining, and she talked him out of it. But no good will come of such a year, Karl."
"I think, myself, that we shall have a bad harvest; but Kurz was here yesterday, and he talked so much about the fine winter wheat, which is standing in the fields----"
"Karl, I thought you had more sense. Kurz! I beg of you. Kurz! He knows what a salt herring ought to be, he understandsthat, for he is an experienced merchant; but when he talks about winter wheat, he should get up earlier in the morning,--that belongs to farmers, experienced farmers. And this is just what I say, Karl, everybody thinks he may meddle with our business, and these old city folks are as wise as the bees. Well, if any one practices farming pour paster la tante, just for his own amusement,--a la boncœur! I have no objections; but if he sets himself as a judge--well! Kurz! In syrup casks and cards, he can see straight enough; but when he looks at a rye-field, there is a veil before his eyes. But what I was going to say is, next week I am coming to you, bag and baggage."
"No, Bräsig, no! If this proves a bad year, you will be necessary to the young people, and the young pastor knows too little of farming to be able to get on without you."
"Yes, Karl, he is stupid, and if you think so,--for I have quite given myself up to you,--then I will stay with him. But now, good-bye. I don't know what ails me, but my stomach feels badly: I will see if Frau Pastorin hasn't a little kümmel for me."
With that he went out, but put his head in again to say, "I had almost forgotten about Pumpelhagen, they have a management there, now, that you could warm your hands and feet at. Yesterday I met your Triddlesitz, at the boundary, and although he is such an infamous greyhound, he almost cried. 'Herr Inspector,' said he, 'you see I lay all night, thinking about the management, and not able to sleep, and when I had planned it all out, in the nicest way, and given the people their orders, in the morning, do you see, the Herr comes out with his arm in a sling, and spoils my plans, and sends one laborer here, and another there, running about the fields like hens with their heads cut off, and I run after them and get them together again, and get things in order, and then, in the afternoon, he tears it all to pieces again!' Karl, it must be a great satisfaction for you,--that is, to see that they cannot get on without you." Then he shut the door, and went off, but, after a little while, made his appearance again: "Karl, what I was going to say--half the horses in Pumpelhagen are used up; a couple of days ago, there stood a loaded manure-cart, and the poor beasts stood there so forlorn, head and ears down, just like the peasants in church. And it is not because they are overworked, but because they have not enough to eat, for your young Herr has no superfluity in his barns, and he has sold this spring three tons of oats and two tons of peas to the Jews, and now his granary is as bare as if the cattle had licked it. And now he must buy oats; but the poor screws that earn his bread don't get it, most of it goes to the old thorough-bred mares who do nothing but steal a living from others. There is great injustice in the world! Well, good-bye, Karl!" and this time he really departed.
That was a sad picture, which Bräsig had drawn of the situation at Pumpelhagen; but in truth, matters were much worse, for he had said nothing of the influence which Axel's constant need of money had upon his temper, and this was the saddest. Continual embarrassment not only makes a man out of humor, it makes him hard towards his inferiors, and our Axel fell into the old fault; he believed he was so badly off because his people fared too well, and Pomuchelskopp was always telling him so. He took from them one thing here, and another there, and when his natural good-nature got the upper hand, he gave them again something here and there; but everything capriciously,--and that has a bad effect. At first, the people had laughed at his confused management, but that is always the beginning, and the laughing soon became a grumbling, and the grumbling broke out into accusations and complaints. Under Habermann's rule, the day-laborers had always received their grain and money at the right time; now they must wait, until there was something to give them; that was bad. And if they went to their master with complaints they were snubbed; that was worse. Discontent was universal.
Axel comforted himself with the new, harvest, and with the new receipts; but, unfortunately, Bräsig proved a true prophet; when the harvest was ripe it was very thin, and when it was garnered, the barns were only half full, and the old experienced country people said to the new beginners: "Take care! Spare in time, and you will have in need! The grain will not hold out." The advice was good, but of what use was it to Axel? He must have money, so he had most of his grain thrashed out, for seed-corn and for sale. And grain was for sale at a fine price, for the Jews saw how it must turn out, and bought up on speculation, and so to the natural scarcity was added an artificial. The old day-laborers, at Pumpelhagen, shook their heads, as the loads of rye were driven from the Court: "What will become of us! What will become of us! We have got no bread-corn." And the housewives stood together, wringing their hands: "See, neighbor, that little heap! Those are all my potatoes, and all poor, and what are we to live on this winter?" And so the scarcity was universal, and it had come over this blessed land like a thief in the night, no one had thought of it, no one had prepared for it, since no one knew what to expect. But it was the worst in the little towns, and there it was the hardest for the poor mechanics,--for laboring men, there was still labor, and their children went about begging from door to door, and afterwards there were soup-kitchens organized; but the poor mechanics? They had no work,--no one employed them,--and they did not understand begging, nor did it suit their honor and reputation. Ah, I went once into the room of a right clever, industrious burgher's wife, when the dinner stood upon the table, and the hungry children stood around it, and as I entered the room the Frau threw, a cloth over the platter, and when she had gone out to call her husband, I lifted the cloth, and what did I find? Boiled potato-skins. That was their dinner.
At such times, our Lord sits in the heavens, and sifts the good from the bad, so that every one may clearly distinguish between them; the good, he keeps by himself, in his sieve, that he may take his pleasure in them, and that they may bear fruit, the bad fall through with the tares and the cockles and the nettles,--these are their unrighteous wishes, their wicked intentions, and their bad thoughts,--and when one looks to see if they bear fruit, the weeds are growing rapidly, and the blossoms make a fair show before the world, but when the harvest comes, and the sickle goes through the field, then their grain falls light on the soil, and the master turns away from the field, for it stands written, "By their fruits ye shall know them."
Many a one stood firm in this trial, and gave with full hands, in spite of his own necessities, and the Landrath von O---- and the Kammerath von E---- and the Pächter H---- and also our old Moses, and many others, remained in the Lord's sieve, and bore good fruit in these bad times, but Pomuchelskopp fell through, and Slusuhr and David, and lay among the tares and the nettles, and they sat together at Gurlitz, and planned how they might fatten their swine upon other people's misfortunes. And David and Slusuhr knew well enough how to do it, if they only had money enough, they would lend it out to the poor and the distressed, to the hungry and the freezing, at high interest; but the capital which they had at their command, for the time being, was all embarked in this fine business, and they came now to the Herr Proprietor to get him to advance money and he should share in their profits. But the far-sighted Herr would not do this, it would be in everybody's mouth, and he should be blamed; so he said that he had nothing to spare, and must keep the little he had to bring his cattle and his people through.
"As for your cattle," said Slusuhr insolently, "I give in; but for the people? Do me the favor to say nothing about them! Your people are begging all over the country, and just as we drove by the parsonage, your housewives and their children were standing in the parson's yard, and your old friend Bräsig stood by two great pails of pea soup, and the young Frau Pastorin ladled it into their kettles.
"Let them! let them!" said Pomuchelskopp, "I wouldn't hinder any body in a good work.Theymay have it to spare; I haven't, and I have no money either."
"You have the Pumpelhagen notes," said David.
"Yes, do you think he can pay them? He has had a poorer harvest than the rest of us, and the little he had he has threshed out and sold."
"That is just it," said Slusuhr, "now is your time. Such a fine opportunity may not come again, and he cannot take it unkindly of you, for you are yourself pressed for money, and must pay the notes to David. Now don't make any objections, but shake the tree, for the plums are ripe."
"How high is the sum total?" inquired David.
"Well," said Pomuchelskopp, going to his desk, and scratching his head, "I have his notes here for eleven thousand thalers."
"Oh, nonsense!" said Slusuhr, "it must be more than that."
"No, it isn't more than that,--I lent him eight thousand on security, a year and a half ago, when he asked me."
"Then you have done a stupid thing, but you must first give him notice, and then you can sue him," said the notary; "but never mind! Give me the eleven thousand thalers, we can distress him finely, in these hard times."
Muchel would not consent, at first; but Hänning put her head in at the door, and he knew very well what she wanted, so he gave the notes to Slusuhr and David.
Then the old game was played over again in Pumpelhagen, Slusuhr and David came, and set Axel burning, as if with fever, and attacked him more sharply than ever, and this time there was no talk of extension. He must and should pay, and he had'nt a shilling, not even the prospect of getting any money. It came over him like Nicodemus in the night, and for the first time the dark thought rose in his mind that this was a concerted plan, that his friendly neighbor at Gurlitz was the real cause of his embarrassment, and that he must have some special design in sending the notes to be cashed through these two rascals; but what it could be, remained hidden from his eyes. But what availed thinking and grumbling, he must have money, and from whom? He knew no one, and in spite of the suspicion which had risen in his mind, his thoughts returned to his neighbor Pomuchelskopp. He must help; who else was there? He mounted his horse, and rode over to Gurlitz.
Muchel received him with uncommon friendliness and cordiality, as if neighbors should be drawn nearer together, in these hard times, and stand by each other faithfully, in their troubles. He told great stories of his bad harvest, and complained sadly of his pecuniary embarrassments, so that Axel was quite taken aback in his purposes, and feel almost ashamed to come to a man who was in such distress, to ask for assistance. But need breaks iron, and he asked him, finally, why he had served him so as to give up his notes to those two bloodsuckers; and Pomuchel folded his hands on his stomach, and looked very mournfully at the young man, saying,--
"Ah, Herr von Rambow, in my great need! Do you see!" and he opened his desk, and showed a drawer, in which a couple of hundred thalers were lying, "There is all I have, and I must take care of my people and my cattle, and I thought perhaps you might have money lying idle."
"But," said Axel, "why not come to me yourself?"
"I did not like to," said Muchel; "you know the old proverb, 'Money joins enemies, and severs friends,' and we are such good friends."
Yes, that was true. Axel said; but these two had distressed him grievously, and he was in the most dreadful embarrassment.
"Did they do that?" exclaimed Pomuchelskopp, "but they ought not! I gave it to them on condition that my dear Herr Neighbor should not be distressed. You will of course want the note extended, it will cost you a little something, perhaps, but that can be no objection under the circumstances."
Axel knew that, but he did not let himself be so easily persuaded, his condition was too desperate, and he begged earnestly that if the Herr Proprietor had no money to spare, he would help him with his credit. "Good heavens! gladly," said Muchel, "but with whom? Who has any money now?"
"Could not Moses help?" asked Axel.
"I don't know him at all," was the reply, "I have no dealings with him. Your father did business with him, and you know him yourself. Yes, I would go and see him."
That was all the comfort Axel got; smoothly as an eel, the Herr Proprietor slipped through his fingers, and when he got on his horse, and rode home, all was dark around him, but it was darker still within.
David and Slusuhr came again, they beset him in the most shameless manner, and whatever he might say of Pomuchelskopp's later intentions, they would know nothing about them, they only knew that they must have their money.
He rode hither and thither, he knocked here and there; but there was nothing to be had anywhere; and weary and discouraged he came home, and there he was met by the quiet eyes of his wife, which said, clearly enough, that she suspected everything, but her mouth was silent, and her lips closely compressed, as if a fair book, in which stood many a word of comfort, must remain forever closed to him. Since the time when Habermann had been sent off in such a disgraceful manner, and she had become aware of the great injustice she had done him, out of love to her husband, she had said nothing more to him about his difficulties; she could not help him, and she would give him no occasion to betray himself and other people with new falsehoods. But this time he was, for the moment, in great anxiety, and his excitable, vexed, hasty demeanor betrayed his distress more fully than usual, and when she retired that night, and looked long at her child, the thought flashed through her head and heart, he was yet the father of her dearest on earth, and he seemed to her so pitiable that she wept bitterly over him, and she promised herself to speak to him with friendliness, the next morning, and to take upon herself, willingly, her share of his self-imposed burdens.
But when morning came. Axel come down stairs, with singing and piping, and called Triddelsitz, and gave him instructions, and called for Krischan Däsel, and ordered him to put the horses to the carriage, and prepare for several days absence, and came in to his wife with a face which was not merely free from distress but full of security, so that she was astounded, and took back her promise.
"Are you going a journey?" she asked.
"Yes, I must travel on business, and shall probably go as far as Schwerin. Have you any commands for the sisters?"
She had merely greetings to send, and after a little while Axel said good-bye, and got into the carriage, and drove to Schwerin. He had told his wife but half the truth; he had no other business but at Schwerin, and with his sisters. It had occurred to him, during the night, that his sisters had money; his father had left them a little house, with a garden, and fifteen thousand thalers, and their capital was invested at four and a half per cent., and they lived on the interest; to be sure, in rather slender circumstances, but the Kammerrath could not do better for them, and had reckoned that the brothers-in-law, and especially Axel, would be able to assist them a little. This capital had occurred to Axel in the night, he could use it at once, it would help him immediately, and he could pay them interest for it, as well as strange people, but he would give them five per cent., and, though he was hard up for the moment, the devil must be in it, if he could not pay them again. This prospect was what had so enlivened him.
When the young Herr came to Schwerin, and explained his business to the sisters, and complained of the bad year, the poor old creatures became very soft-hearted and comforted him, as if the whole world had gone against him, and when Albertine, who was the cleverest of them, and who looked after the money matters, began to speak very gently of securities, the other two, and especially Fidelia, interrupted her. That would be very narrow-minded, their brother was in need, and so were many people in the country, and their brother was their pride, and their only dependence, so their blessed father had said, shortly before his death; and when Axel readily promised to give them security on the estate Albertine surrendered, and the three old maidens were greatly delighted that they could help their dear brother. He was also fortunate, in getting hold of the money; a couple of Jews had it, and he found them, and a little interest was due on it, and this he took likewise, for he intended, of course, that his sisters should receive their full fifteen thousand thalers again, and from this time get five per cent, interest on it.
He returned to his house, in the week after New Year, 1847, and a couple of days later, when David and Slusuhr came again, expecting to torment him, he counted out the money on the table, paid his notes, and made a bow to their long faces, which both translated into the words: "A good riddance, gentlemen!"
"What is this?" asked Slusuhr, as they got into their carriage.
"God bless me!" said David, "he has money. Did you see? He had still a great packet of money."
"Yes, but how did he get it?"
"Well, we must ask Zodick."
Zodick was a poor cousin of David's, whom he always took with him, as coachman, but his real business was to listen to the people on the estate.
"Zodick, did you see, did you hear where he has been?"
"The coachman told me he had been to Schwerin."
"To Schwerin? What business had he at Schwerin?"
"He got the money there."
"In Schwerin? It is what I have always said to my father, these nobility stand by each other. He must have got it from the rich one, from the cousin."
"So?" asked Slusuhr, taking a packet of money out of his pocket, and holding it under David's nose. "Smell of that! Does that smell of nobility? It smells of garlic; he got it from your confounded Jews. But it is all one,--we must go to Pomuchelskopp. Ha, ha, ha! How the crafty, little beast will hop about with anger!"
And in that he was right, Pomuchelskopp was beyond all control, when he learned that his blow had not succeeded: "I said so, I said so; it was not yet time; but, Häuning, Häuning! you crowded me so!"
"You are a blockhead!" said Häuning, and left the room.
"Take hold again," said Slusuhr; "never mind this, now you can give him notice, for St. John's day, for the eight thousand which you have let him have."
"No, no," whispered Pomuchelskopp, "that is the only foothold I have in that fine estate; if he should pay me, my plans are all spoiled. And he has still more money?" he asked of David.
"He had a large packet and a small packet."
"Well," said Slusuhr, "you will have your way, like the dog in the well; but he must be an uncommon blockhead if he doesn't suspect, now, that you are at the bottom of the whole affair; and, if he has smelt a rat, it amounts to the same thing, whether you give him notice now, or a couple of years later."
"Children, children!" cried this dignified old proprietor, stamping and puffing up and down the room, like a steam-engine, "if he has really suspected it, he cannot do without me; I am the only friend that can help him."
"Well, don't help him, then. St. John's day is the best time, then he has no money coming in."
"Hasn't he though? He has the wool-money, and the rape-money."
"Yes, but then he has interest to pay, and most of it will have been spent beforehand."
"No, I cannot do it, I cannot do it; the foot which I have once planted in that fine estate, I can never draw back," said our old philanthropist.
"It is a great pity for a man to set himself about something, and then be afraid of the means," said the Herr Notary to David, as they drove home. "Our fine business in Pumpelhagen is at an end. I shall merely have to deal with the old woman, instead of him, the old woman will put it through."
"A dreadfully strong, clever woman," said David.
"Well, there is no help for it. Our milch cow at Pumpelhagen is dry. And it would all have gone well enough, David, if you had not been such a dunce. Why couldn't you make your father give notice for his seven thousand thalers? Then we two could have stripped him finely."
"Good heavens!" cried David, "he wouldn't do it. There he goes to old Habermann, and there they sit and talk, and when I say, 'Father, dear, give notice!' then he says, 'Give notice of your own money, I will take care of mine.'"
"He is getting childish then, and a man whose judgment is not worth more should be put under guardians," said Slusuhr.
"Well, you know, I have thought of that; but, you know,--it is so--well, so--so--and then, you know, the father is too clever!"