Towards the middle of the afternoon, the merchant Kurz, and the rector
Baldrian were approaching the Rexow farm.
Kurz had invited the rector to be his companion, to his own detriment,
for a little man appears to fearful disadvantage beside a long-legged
fellow, and nature, in cheating Kurz of his rightful dimensions,
appeared to have endowed the rector with the surplus. So they walked
along the road, and the rector made a joke; he said that they two
together reminded him of the metre, which the Romans called a dactyl,
long, short, short; long, short, short. That provoked Kurz, since it
was disparaging to his legs and his capabilities as a pedestrian; he
took the longest possible steps.
"Now we can pass for a spondee," said the rector.
"Do me the favor, brother-in-law," said Kurz, angrily, and wholly out
of breath, "to spare me your learned witticisms. They are altogether
too much for me." And he wiped off the sweat from his face, pulled off
his coat, and hung it over his stick.
In his belief, Kurz was properly a materialist, but by trade he was a
mercer. There were always remnants left over, in this business, which
was quite a convenience to a man of his short stature, since he could
use them up for himself. When he had cleared out his old stock last
year, he had a piece of ladies' dress goods left on hand, on which were
represented giraffes plucking at a palm-tree. He could not think of
throwing it away, and he could not get rid of it, so he had it made up
into a summer coat for himself, and he was now marching on the Rexow
farm, with this banner over his shoulder, as if he were the youngest
standard-bearer in the army of a German prince, who bore a giraffe and
a palm-tree in his shield; and rector Baldrian stalked by his side, in
a yellow nankeen coat, like a right file-leader, in the body-guard of
the German prince, who might, for a change, have adopted yellow nankeen
as a uniform.
"Dear me!" sighed Frau Nuessler, "Kurz is bringing the rector with him."
"Sure enough," said Braesig, "but he shall not incommode us much to-day,
I will cut his speeches short." For they both had, not without reason,
a great terror of the rector's circumstantiality.
The two guests entered, and the rector delivered a long oration upon
his joy in seeing them again, and the happy opportunity of coming with
Kurz; to which Braesig replied curtly, that long legs were the best
opportunities for one who was going across country, and turned away, so
that the rector, while Frau Nuessler was occupied with Kurz, found his
audience limited to Jochen, who listened in the most exemplary manner
to the whole discourse, and finally said, "Good day, brother-in-law,
sit down a little while."
Kurz was out of temper; in the first place, because he had come to give
his boy a scolding, secondly, because the rector had walked him off his
legs, and, thirdly, because in pulling off his coat he had taken cold,
and got a fit of the hiccoughs. His crossness, to be sure, was nothing
remarkable, for he was angry year in and year out, because he was a
democrat, of course not a state democrat, for they didn't have such
then in Mecklenburg; only a city democrat, since he made it the
particular business of his life to pull public offices from the grasp
of the thick-nosed baker, in the market-place, who was so horribly
favored by the burgomeister. He went puffing and hiccoughing about the
room, and looked, with his red, moist face and his short grizzled hair,
like a fine, red, freshly cut ham, cooked in paste, well sprinkled with
pepper and salt, with the gravy following the knife.
The comparison is not strictly accurate, because the knife was wanting,
but Braesig took care for that; he ran to the dresser, caught up a long,
sharp carving-knife, marched directly up to the ham and said, "So,
Kurz, now sit perfectly still."
"What is that for?" inquired Kurz.
"Remedy for the hiccoughs. So! Now you must look right at the point of
the knife. Now I come nearer and nearer to you with the point; but you
must be frightened, or it will do you no good. Still nearer,--still
nearer, as if I were going to split your nose open. Still nearer--close
to your eyes."
"Thunder and lightning!" cried Kurz, springing up. "Do you mean to put
my eyes out?"
"Good!" said Braesig, "good! You are frightened, and that will help
you."
And it did help, truly, that is, as regards the hiccoughs, not as
regards the crossness.
"Where is my boy?" he asked. "He shall get a scolding to-day. Nothing
but vexations, brother-in-law!" turning to Jochen. "Here with the boy,
at the Rathhaus with the public documents, at home with my wife, on
account of that confounded sermon affair, in the shop with that beast
of an apprentice, selling a half ounce of black sewing silk for a
drachm, and here, on the road, with the rector's long shanks."
"Mother," said young Jochen, pushing a coffee-cup towards her, "help
Kurz."
"Eh, brother-in-law," said Frau Nuessler, "there is time enough, let us
talk it over first; to come down on the boy when you are so heated
would be like pouring oil on the fire."
"I'll come down on him----" began Kurz; but he went no further, for the
door opened, and Gottlieb entered.
Gottlieb's step was more than usually dignified, as he walked up to his
father, and greeted him. He was so excessively solemn, and had such an
air of clerical reserve, that he looked as if St. Salbaderus had taken
him under his special tuition, and hung him up by a string every night,
to keep him out of harm's way.
"Good day, how goes it, papa?" said he, and kissed his father on the
cheek, so that the old man kissed in the air, like a carp, when he
comes up out of the water.
"How is mamma?" inquired the son.
Gottlieb had been brought up from a child to say "Papa" and "Mamma,"
because the rector thought "Father" and "Mother," although quite good
enough for ordinary burghers, were not suitable for educated people; at
which Frau Kurz was naturally very indignant, since her children always
said "Daddy" and "Mammy."
"Good day, uncle," said Gottlieb to Kurz, "good day, Herr Inspector,"
to Braesig, and, turning again to his father, he went on: "I am very
glad you have come to-day, for I wish to speak to you particularly, on
important business."
"Ha, ha," said Braesig to himself, "it is beginning already."
The rector went out into the court-yard with his son, and Braesig
stationed himself at the window, and watched them. Frau Nuessler came up
to him: "Braesig, did you find out anything, this afternoon, about my
little girls?"
"Frau Nuessler," said Braesig, "don't you be troubled, the business has
settled itself."
"What?" cried Frau Nuessler, hastily, "how has it settled itself?"
"You will soon find out, for if you look out of the window you will see
it is being settled now. Why do you think the rector is shaking hands
with Gottlieb, and embracing him? On account of his Christian belief?
Come, I will tell you why; it is because you, Frau Nuessler, are such a
good housekeeper."
Braesig had great knowledge of human nature, and could read hearts like
a prophet; but he shared the common failing of prophets, he uttered
dark sayings. Frau Nuessler did not understand a word: "What? He
embraces Gottlieb because I am a good housekeeper!"
Braesig had another prophet's failing; he gave no answer to a reasonable
question, if it did not suit his humour. "Can't you see how he gives
him his blessing?" he exclaimed. "He knows very well that money
answereth all things, and he knows there is plenty of it here."
"What has that to do with my children?"
"You will soon find out. See! now the Pietist is going away, and now
look at the old man. Lord have mercy on us! he is learning off a speech
by heart; and it will be a long one,--all his speeches are long, but
the ceremonious ones are the longest."
Braesig had great knowledge of human nature, as was fully proved on this
occasion, for the rector came in, and began immediately:
"Honored friends, a certain wise man of antiquity has uttered the
indisputable truth, that the happiest home is that where quiet peace
dwells, in company with a comfortable, substantial competency. Here, in
this house, this is the case. I have not come here to disturb this
quiet peace; my dear brother-in-law, Kurz can do what he pleases,--I
have come by accident, but accident is a 'casus' or falling out,
whereby important things sometimes fall in a man's way. This is the
case with me to-day. This accident may fall out for good, or it may
fall out for evil; but I will not anticipate, I will say nothing
further about it. Dear Brother Jochen, you as the proper head of this
happily situated family"--Jochen made a face as if his brother-in-law
had said he was the proper autocrat of all Russia, and ought by good
rights to be sitting on his throne in the Kremlin at Moscow, instead of
sitting here in the chimney-corner--"yes," repeated the rector, "you,
as the proper head of the family, will pardon me if I address myself
also to my dear sister-in-law, who has cared for the affairs of her own
family with so much love and circumspection, and with such blessed
results, and also upon the families related--I refer here particularly
to the friendly reception of my Gottlieb--has exerted a highly
beneficial influence. You, my dear brother-in-law Kurz, belong also to
the family, and although our two families, at least the female members,
have been lately a little divided, though--well, on this happy occasion
we will say nothing more about it--I am sure you really feel interested
in my happiness. But now," going up to Braesig, "how shall I address
you, Herr Inspector? You, though you do not, strictly speaking,
belong to the family, have yet been so helpful in action, so wise in
counsel----"
"Come. I will give you a bit of advice," said the old man; "take a
fresh start or you will never get to the end."
"End?" said the rector, with the authority of the clergyman breaking
through the crust of the pedant. "End?" asked he, solemnly, raising his
eyes to heaven, "will it come to a good or a bad end? Who knows the
end?"
"I know it," said Braesig, "for I heard the beginning, this afternoon,
up in that confounded cherry-tree. The end of the whole story is, the
Pietist wants to marry our Lining."
Then there was an uproar, "Gracious heavens!" cried Frau Nuessler.
"Gottlieb! our child?"
"Yes," said the rector, snapping out the word, and standing there like
Klein, the head-fireman at Stemhagen, when the engines were being
tried, and the hose burst, and he got the whole stream of water over
himself.
Kurz sprang up, exclaiming; "The rascal! Gottlieb? That is too much!"
And Jochen also got up, but slowly, and asked Braesig, "_Mining_, did
you say, Braesig?"
"No, young Jochen, only _Lining_," said Braesig, quietly. And young
Jochen sat down again.
"And you knew that, Braesig, and never told us?" cried Frau Nuessler.
"Oh, I know yet more," said Braesig, "but why should I tell you? What
difference could it make whether you knew it a quarter of an hour
sooner, or not; and I thought it would be a pleasant surprise for you."
"And here he is," said the rector, leading in Gottlieb, who had been
behind the door all the time, "and he wishes to receive his answer from
your kindness."
And now came old Gottlieb, for once with nothing ludicrous about him,
but like any other man. His clerical demeanor, and the exclusiveness of
his Levitical calling, he had quite thrown overboard, since he had no
room in his heart for such folderols. At this moment it was full of
pure human nature, of doubt and hope, of fear and love, and those who
could decide his happiness or misery stood before him as human beings
in flesh and blood--Jochen to be sure was sitting--and real love, with
its proper circumstances of betrothal and marriage, is such a fair,
pure, human feeling, that truly no clerical parade can make it fairer.
At any other time, Gottlieb himself would have been the first to
dispute this assertion, but at this moment he was so overcome by this
tender feeling, and expressed himself with so much warmth and
confidence toward Frau Nuessler and Jochen, that Braesig said to himself,
"How the man has altered! If Lining has done so much in this short
time, let her go on, in heaven's name! She will make a good fellow of
him yet!"
Frau Nuessler listened to Gottlieb's straightforward story, and indeed
she had always liked old Gottlieb, but the thought of losing her child
overcame her for the moment; she was much agitated; "Good heavens!"
cried she, "Gottlieb, you were always a good fellow, and you studied
your books well, but----"
Here she was for the first time in her life, interrupted by Jochen.
When Jochen understood that they were not talking about Mining, he
became quiet; while Gottlieb addressed him, he was collecting his
thoughts and, as he became aware that all eyes were turned upon him, he
resolved to speak, and so he took the words out of his wife's mouth,
saying, "Yes, Gottlieb, it is all as true as leather, and what I can do
in the matter, as a father, I will do, and if mother is willing I am
willing; and if Lining is willing I am willing."
"Good heavens, Jochen!" cried Frau Nuessler, "what are you talking
about? Just keep quiet! No, I must first speak, to my child, I must
first hear what she will say to it." With that she ran out of the room.
But it was not long before she came back, leading Lining by the hand,
and behind her followed Mining and Rudolph, probably intending to make
a practical use of this occasion; and Lining, red as a rose, dropped
her mother's hand, and threw herself upon Gottlieb's breast, and then
on her mother's, and then went and sat down on Jochen's knee--for he
had seated himself again--and would have kissed him, but could not for
coughing, for Jochen in his excitement was puffing violently at his
strong tobacco, so she only said "Father!" and he said "Lining!" and
when she rose, Braesig was standing beside her, and he caressed her, and
said; "Never mind, Lining, I will give you something." Then Gottlieb
took her by the hand, and led her up to his father, and the rector bent
so low to give her his fatherly kiss, that the others thought he was
picking up a pin from the floor, and he began on a new oration, but did
not get far in it, for Braesig stood at the window, drumming "The old
Dessauer," so that nobody could hear a word. The old man was staring
over Jochen's barn-roof, into the clear sunshine, as if there were
something quite remarkable to be seen there. And there was, in fact,
something remarkable to be seen; he saw, far off, an apple-tree, which
had been once covered with rosy bloom; it was his tree, he had propped
and trained it, it was his tree, but Jochen had transplanted it to his
garden, and he had been compelled to suffer it; but for all that, he
had still watched and tended the tree, and the tree had borne fruit,
beautiful red, round fruit; and the fruit had grown ripe, and was fair
to look upon, and now a couple of boys had climbed over the fence, and
one had plucked an apple, and put it in his pocket, and the second was
reaching out his hand for the other. Well, boys will be boys, and
apples and boys belong together; he knew that, and had often said to
himself that it must come; he did not grudge them but it troubled him
that the care of his little twin-apples should pass into other hands,
especially he could not easily give up the care of his little rogue, so
he drummed lustily on the window-frame.
And Kurz, the shop-keeper, blew his nose as fiercely as if he were
playing the trumpet to Braesig's drumming. It was not from emotion, that
he blew it so impressively, only from anger; for he was the fifth wheel
on the wagon amid all this domestic happiness, and yet he had come on
an important piece of business; but the circumstances demanded that he
should offer friendly congratulations, so with a face like a salt plum
that has been steeped in vinegar, he passed by his son Rudolph without
looking at him, and congratulated, right and left, as if he stood
behind his counter, serving his customers, and must have a friendly
word ready for every one, though he heard clearly all the time, behind
his back, the whole vinegar barrel running out. But when he came to the
rector, and should have poured him out a measure of oil for his
pathetic oration, there was the vinegar, which his boy had left
running, close at his heels, and he could talk to his customers no
longer; he turned quickly on his heel, and cried to Rudolph, "Are you
not ashamed of yourself?" then turning back to the customers, "I beg
your pardon! but this business must be attended to--are you not ashamed
of yourself? Have you not cost me more than Gottlieb his father? Have
you learnt anything? Just tell me!"
"Dear brother-in-law," said the rector, and laid his hand with
friendliness on Kurz's head, as if he had done his Latin exercise
uncommonly well, "what he has learned, he cannot tell you in a moment."
"Eh, what!" cried Kura, twitching out from under the hand, and
stumbling backward, "did you bring me along, or did I bring you along?
I think I brought you along; it is time for my business to be attended
to now. Are you not ashamed of yourself?" he cried, to Rudolph again;
"there stands Gottlieb, has passed his examination, has a bride,--a
fair, a lovely bride,"--with that he endeavoured to bow to Lining, but
in his excitement always made his compliments to Frau Nuessler,--"can be
a pastor to-morrow,"--Braesig got this bow, instead of Gottlieb,--"and
you, and you--oh, you have fought duels, and what else have you done?
Got into debt; but I won't pay your debts!" and although nobody said
that he should pay them, he kept repeating, "I won't pay them! No! I
won't pay them!" and he placed himself by Braesig, at the window, and
joined him in drumming.
The poor boy, Rudolph, stood there, terribly mortified. It is true,
nature had given him a pretty tough hide, and he was too well used to
his father's abuse, to take it for more than it was worth, for nobody
must believe that Kurz, in his inmost heart, was angry with his boy,
no, God forbid! quite the contrary! because he cared so much for him,
he was angry that his boy was not so well off as the rector's.
But for all that, and although Rudolph knew right well how much his
father thought of him, he could not bear it this time, for the old man
was too hard on him, and before so many witnesses, and he had a whole
stream of bitter words on the cud of his tongue, when his eye
fortunately fell upon Mining, who this afternoon reckoned herself truly
one bone and one flesh with Rudolph, for her flesh was pale instead of
his, and every bone in her body trembled for him. Rudolph swallowed his
bitter words, and for the first time the feeling came over him, that
his misdeeds could recoil on any other head than his own, and he
resolved to do nothing for the future, without looking into Mining's
eyes first. And, I say, that is a very good sign of a young, honest
love.
"Father," said he, when he had controlled himself, and went, without
troubling himself at the long faces around him, up to his father, and
laid his hand on his shoulder, "Father, come! I have done with stupid
tricks from henceforth."
Kurz kept on drumming; but Braesig stopped.
"Father," said Rudolph again, "you have reason to be angry with me, I
have deserved it, but----"
"Stop your confounded drumming!" said Braesig, arresting Kurz's
knuckles.
"Father," said Rudolph, offering his hand to his father, "come, forgive
and forget!"
"No!" said Kurz, thrusting both hands in his pockets.
"What?" said Braesig, "You will not? I know very well, nobody should
interfere between father and son, but I _will_ interfere, because it is
your own fault that the business has been talked about so openly. What!
You will not forget and forgive this young fellow's follies, and he
your own son? Haven't you always sent me that old, sweet Prussian
Kuemmel, and didn't I forgive and forget, and go and trade with you
again, and pay you honestly?"
"I have always served you well," said Kurz.
"So?" asked Braesig, mockingly. "How about that trousers' pattern? Young
Jochen, you know all about it, you can remember how they looked
afterwards."
"Those stupid old trousers!" cried Kurz, "you have made so much fuss
about them already that----"
"Ha, ha!" interrupted Braesig, "do you talk like that? Wasn't it pure
wickedness on your part, to let me wear them, and you knowing they
would turn red, and haven't I forgiven and forgotten? Well, not
forgotten, to be sure, for I have a very good memory,--but if you don't
forget what the young fellow has done, you can at least forgive him."
"Dear brother-in-law," began the rector, who believed that, in
consideration of his having formerly been a clergyman, it was his duty
to make peace.
"Do me the pleasure!" cried Kurz, turning short round, "you have a
bride, and will get a parish,--that is to say, your Gottlieb will get
one, and we--we--we have learnt nothing, we have no bride, no parish,
and we have a scar!" and then he ran wildly about the room.
"Father!" cried Rudolph, "just hear me!"
"Yes," said Frau Nuessler, who was heated to the point of boiling over,
and she caught Kurz by the arm; "just hear what he has to say for
himself. If he did do a foolish thing about the sermon,--and no one was
more troubled about it than I,--yet otherwise he is a good boy, and
many a father would be proud of him."
"Yes, yes!" said Kurz, impatiently, "I will hear him, I will listen to
him," and he placed himself before Rudolph with his hands on his sides:
"Come now, say what you have to say, now say it!"
"Dear father," said Rudolph, standing there with a beseeching and yet
resolved expression upon his face, "I know it will grieve you deeply,
but I cannot do otherwise; I shall not be a clergyman, I am going to be
a farmer."
It is said that they teach the bears to dance, in Poland, by putting
them on hot iron plates, where they must keep their legs constantly in
motion, to avoid being burned. In precisely such a manner, did Kurz hop
about the room, at these words of Rudolph's, first on one foot and then
on the other, as if the devil were under Frau Nuessler's floor, toasting
his feet for him. "That is pretty," he cried at every jump, "that is
fine! My son, who has cost me so much, who has learned so much, will be
a farmer! will be a clodhopper, a blockhead, a stable-boy!"
"Young Jochen," cried Braesig, "shall we suffer ourselves to be called
by such names? Stand up, young Jochen! What, Herr!" exclaimed he, going
up to Kurz, "such a herring-dealer, such a syrup-prince as you, to
despise farmers! Herr, do you know who we are? We are your very
foundation; if it were not for us, and our buying of you, the
shopkeepers might all run about the country with beggars' sacks,--and
you think your son has learned too much for such a calling? He has
learned too much, perhaps, in one way, but he has learned too little in
another. Do you believe, Herr, that a capable agriculturalist--stand up
here by me, Jochen!--needs nothing but a sheep's head and asses' ears?"
"Dear brother-in-law," began the rector, again.
"Will you kill me, with your long speeches?" roared Kurz. "You have
sheared your little sheep; I came out, also, to shear my black sheep,
and now you all seem bent on shearing me."
"Kurz," said Frau Nuessler, "be reasonable. What cannot be, cannot. If
he won't be a pastor, he is the nearest thing to it, as the Frau
Pastorin says; and in my opinion, if he is only an industrious fellow,
it is all the same whether he preaches or ploughs."
"Father," said Rudolph now, as he noticed that his father was
considering, "give me your consent; you do not know how much my life's
happiness depends on it."
"Who will take you for a pupil?" cried Kurz, still angrily. "Nobody!"
"That is my affair," said Braesig. "I know a man,--that is Hilgendorff,
of Tetzleben,--who understands book-farming, and who has already done
well for his pupils. He had one fellow, who was beside himself with
poetry, which he used to write behind the shed; if he wanted to say
that the sun was risen, he said, 'Aurora had looked over the hedge,'
and when he would speak of a storm coming up, he said, 'It glowed and
towered up, in the west,' and if he would say it drizzled, he said,
'Light drops distilled from heaven,'--and for all that, he has made a
useful man out of him. He must go to Hilgendorff."
"Yes," said Kurz, "but I must speak with Hilgendorff; I shall tell
him----"
"Tell him everything, father," said Rudolph, embracing the old man,
"but I have yet another petition."
"Ha, ha!" cried Kurz, "about your debts, I suppose; but don't come near
me with those to-day, I have enough of this clodhopper business, and I
won't pay them!" and he shoved his son away.
"And you shall not, father," said Rudolph, drawing himself up proudly,
and his whole bearing expressed such cheerful courage and such sure
confidence, that all eyes were attracted towards him. "You shall not do
it!" he cried, "I have incurred debts to-day, and I have given my word
of honor, honestly to pay and discharge them, and I will do it, with my
heart's blood. I have made them here," he exclaimed, going up to
Mining, who all this time, and through all this quarrel, had been lying
on her sister's shoulder, and who felt as if it were the beginning of
the judgment day. "Here!" said he, and laid Mining on his own breast.
"If I am ever good for anything, you have this little girl here to
thank for it," and the tears started from his eyes, "my darling little
bride."
"Confounded rascal!" said Braesig, rubbing his eyes, and he went back to
the window, and drummed the Dessauer, for he was the only one who was
not surprised at this announcement. The others stood there, confounded.
"Good Heavens!" cried Frau Nuessler, "what is this?"
"What?" cried Jochen, "_Mining_, did he say?"
"Good gracious, Jochen, don't talk so much!" cried Frau Nuessler,
"Mining, what is this, what does this mean?"
But Mining lay on Rudolph's breast, as white and still, as if she would
never raise her head, or speak another word. Kurz had comprehended the
matter at once, he had quickly ciphered out in his head a couple of
examples in arithmetic, of which Jochen's property furnished the
principal items, and he found the result so satisfactory, that he began
to dance again, this time, however, not like the Polish bears, but like
a wild Indian executing a war-dance, and Braesig drummed the measure.
Rector Baldrian's face was the one quiet point, in all this general
excitement, for it looked as uncomprehensive as mine would, if I were
poring over a Hebrew Bible.
"What is this, what does this mean?" cried Frau Nuessler again, sinking
into a chair. "Both my two! Both my little girls in one and the same
day! And _you_ said," turning upon Braesig, "that you would look after
them!"
"Frau Nuessler," said Braesig, "have I not looked after them, till all my
bones were sore? But there is no harm done, so far as I can see. What
do you say to it, Jochen?"
"I have nothing to say; my blessed mother always said: A candidate and
a governess----"
"Jochen," cried Frau Nuessler, "you will talk me dead, and you learned
this very chattering from Rudolph, the rascal!"
"Blockhead!" exclaimed Kurz, dancing about the pair, "why didn't you
tell me that, in the first place? I would have forgiven you anything,
on account of this little--this dear little daughter!" and he lifted up
Mining's head, and kissed her.
"Gracious heavens!" cried Frau Nuessler, "there is Kurz calling her his
daughter, and kissing her, and his boy is nothing at all yet, and
Mining is so inconsiderate!"
"So?" said Braesig. "You mean because she is the youngest? Now come here
a minute, I want to speak to you privately," and he led Frau Nuessler
into the corner, and the two looked attentively at the old spittoon,
which stood there. "Frau Nuessler," said he, "what is right for one,
must be reasonable for the other. You have given your blessing to
Lining, why not to Mining? Yes, it is true, she is not so thoughtful,
because she is the youngest; but after all, Madame Nuessler, the
difference in years is so little, in a pair of twins, that it is
scarcely to be regarded, and then--you must give your daughter to the
presbyter, and how he will take care of her, the devil knows! we know
nothing about the ways of the clergy, for you and Jochen and I have
never studied theology; but the other, the duel-fighter, you see how he
stands there, as if he could cut his way through the world--a
confounded rascal! well, you see with him, as a farmer, we shall have
the advantage, for you and Habermann and I, and if the worst comes to
the worst, Jochen himself, an look after him, and admonish him, and
Keep him in order. And you see, Frau Nuessler, I always thought Jochen
would improve with age; but does he improve? No, he doesn't improve,
and it may be a real blessing for you to have this youth here, as a
son-in-law, if he does well, for we are getting old, and when I close
my eyes--well, I shall last a little while longer, perhaps--but it
would be a great comfort to me to know that you had some one on hand,
to look after you."
And the old fellow looked down fixedly into the spittoon, and Frau
Nuessler threw her arm around his neck, and kissed him, for the first
time in her life, and said in a quiet, friendly way; "Braesig, if you
really think it right, then it cannot be against the will of God." Many
an arbor has witnessed a fresher, rosier, more glowing kiss, but the
old spittoon would not exchange with them.
And Frau Nuessler turned back, and went up to Rudolph, and said,
"Rudolph, I say nothing more but, In God's name," and she drew Mining
to her arms, and reached after Lining, and laid the two little twins
alternately upon her breast, as she had done years ago, and hope stood
again at her side, in her freshest, green wreath, as she had done years
ago; yet it was quite different to-day, from that other time. Then she
had given the two little twins, now she would take them away; for hope
is like the bee, she plunger into every flower, and extracts from each
its honey.
And Braesig went up and down the room, with great strides, and held his
nose in the air, and snuffed about, and elevated his eyebrows, and
turned out his little legs, with as much dignity and importance, as if
he were the rightful father, who should give away the children, and had
made up his mind to the sacrifice, and by him also stood a fair,
womanly image. With a wreath, it was a wreath of moss and yellow
immortelles; but it harmonized well with the still, sad eyes, and she
took him softly by the hand, and led him again and ever again towards
the mother and children, till he laid his hands on her head, and
whispered in her ears, "Be content, you shall have them still."
Rudolph had gone directly up to Gottlieb, and offered him his hand:
"You are no longer angry with me, to-day, are you, Gottlieb?" and
Gottlieb pressed his hand, saying, "How can you think so, dear brother?
Forgiveness is the Christian's duty." And the rector coughed, as if he
were preparing to deliver a brief oration, but Kurz caught hold of his
coat, and begged him, for God's sake, not to spoil the business--and
then all at once, the company became aware that Jochen was missing.
Where was Jochen?
"Good gracious!" cried Frau Nuessler, "where is my Jochen?"
"Good gracious! where is Jochen?" repeated one and another; but Braesig
was the first who made any efforts to bring him back to his proper
place; he ran out, and screamed out of the front door, across the
court-yard, "Jochen!" and ran back again, and screamed through the
garden, "Jochen!" and, as he came back through the kitchen, he saw a
fiery face puffing and blowing at the coals, under a great copper
kettle, and that was Jochen's face.
The feeling had come over him, that he ought to do something, in honor
of such a special occasion, and his heart became so warm, that five and
twenty degrees (Reaumur) in the shade seemed too cool for him, and
since he wanted to bring his outside into harmony with his inside, and
could think of nothing more suitable to a family festival, he decided
upon punch, and was brewing it in the most energetic manner. Braesig
assisted, and undertook the tasting, and they came back finally,
bearing in Frau Nuessler's largest soup-tureen, both fiery as a pair of
dragons guarding a treasure, and Jochen placed it on the table, with
the single word, "There!" and Braesig said to the little twin-apples,
"Go to your father, and thank him; your father thinks of everybody."
As the old fellows gathered about the punch-bowl, and the young people
had something else to think about, Frau Nuessler stole quietly out of
the room; she wished to talk over the matter with an older friend than
Braesig.
The little twin-apples were hidden in the green arbor of their happy
future; only as Uncle Braesig's playful jests blew aside the green
leaves, their blushing faces were revealed.
"Yes," said he to Gottlieb, "there are all sorts of people in the
world, and wicked Pietists among them. You wanted to convert me, take
care I don't convert you; I shall convert you by means of Lining." And
as Gottlieb was about to reply, he stood up, and gave him his hand in
the heartiest manner, "Well, never mind, you will have fire enough yet,
and if you are the village pastor, I shall get on well with you, and we
shall be good friends."
And to Rudolph, he said, "Just wait! You have caught my tench out of
the pool, you rascal, but Hilgendorff will make you face the music,"
and he went up to his young fishing-comrade and whispered in his ear:
"It is not so bad! You must always think of Mining, with every bushel
of corn you measure out, and when you are out in the spring, in a stiff
east wind, with a dozen laborers, and the old loam-dust flies in your
nose, and sticks there, as if a swallow had built her nest in your
head, and the sun looks out through the dust, as round and red as a
copper-kettle, then you must think that is Mining's face, looking down
on you. Isn't it so, my little godchild?"
Meanwhile the rector had drank three glasses of punch, one to the
health of each betrothed pair, and one to the health of the company,
and he would allow himself no longer to be hindered, even by Kurz, from
resuming his interrupted speech. He began with the introduction to the
introduction. He stood up, reached after a tea-spoon and after the
sugar-tongs, which had been on the table since coffee was served,
coughed a couple of times, as a sign that he was ready to begin, and
when he was aware that all were looking at him, and Jochen had folded
his hands, he first looked very thoughtfully, now at the spoon, and
then at the tongs. All at once, he thrust the spoon right under
Braesig's nose, as if Braesig had stolen it, and must be convicted of the
act: "Do you know that?"
"Yes," said Braesig, "what of it?" Then he held the sugar-tongs before
Kurz's eyes, and asked if he knew it.
Kurz knew it, it was Jochen's.
"Yes," he began; "you know them; that is, you have a sensible
perception of them, you know how to distinguish them from other objects
by color, shape, and brightness: but the moral conception, which I
connect with them, you do not know."
He looked around, as if he expected some one to contradict him; but
they were all silent.
"No, you do not know it! I must communicate and explain it to you. See,
how long will it be before the careful housewife of this family will
come and take spoon and tongs, and put these, which are now visibly
divided, lying here on the table, into one common tea-caddy, where they
will rest together; in thousands of houses they rest together in one
tea-caddy, and for a thousand years, they rest together in one
tea-caddy. It is a custom honored for ages, that what belongs
together should not be separated. And Adam"--here he held up the
sugar-tongs--"and Eve"--then he held up the tea-spoon--"belonged
together, for they were created for each other,"--here he held them
both up--"and the Lord himself put them together in the tea-caddy of
Paradise. And what did Noah do? He built himself an ark, a
tea-caddy,--if you will, my beloved,--and he called the males and
females, and they followed his call,"--here he marched the sugar-tongs
over the table, alternately pinching them together and letting them
loose again, and shoved the tea-spoon after them--"and they went----"
"Come in!" cried Braesig, for somebody knocked at the door, and in
walked Fritz Triddelsitz. "Herr Habermann's compliments to Herr
Nuessler, and would he lend him a pair of rape-sifters, as they were
ready to begin harvesting." This made a little disturbance, but the
rector remained standing at his post.
"Yes," said Jochen, he would do so; and Fritz perceiving by the odor of
the punch, and the rector's state of preparation,--which he knew well
enough of old, since he had many a time made his shoulders black and
blue,--that there was something unusual in progress, crossed the room
on tiptoe, and sat down, and Jochen said, "Mining, help Triddelsitz."
Fritz drank, and the rector waited.
"Begin again at the beginning," said Braesig, "else Triddelsitz cannot
understand it."
"We were speaking, then," began the rector----
"About the sugar-tongs and the teaspoon," cried Kurz, wickedly, "and
that they belonged in the tea-caddy," and he snatched the silver out of
his hand and put it into the caddy, saying, "There, now the males and
females are in Noah's ark, and I think ours will get in there too. You
must know, Triddelsitz, we are celebrating a double betrothal here,
to-day, and that is the principal thing; the rector's sermon is only
the fringe about the garment. What is Habermann doing?"
"Oh, thank you," said Fritz, "he is very well," and he stood up, and
offered his congratulations to the two couples, on their betrothal, in
suitable terms enough, and yet with rather a condescending manner, as
if it were merely a birthday, and the little twin-apples were betrothed
every year. The rector stood waiting, all this time.
"Lining, help uncle rector," said Jochen.
She did so, and the rector drank; but, instead of diverting his
attention, the punch moved and stirred and poked about among the
thoughts which he had collected for his speech, and there was a great
commotion in his brain, and every idea wanted to take the lead, but
they were constantly pushed back by one after another of the company,
now Jochen, now Kurz, and now Fritz, and as he was at last bringing
forward his heavy artillery of "reflections on marriage," Braesig
observed, in the most innocent way, "You have been very happy, then, in
the married state, Herr Rector?"
He seated himself, with a deep sigh, and to this day, no one knows
whether it was over his marriage or his speech. I incline to think the
latter, for I hold it easier to resign a happy marriage than a happy
speech.
It was now evening, and the rector, Kurz, and Triddelsitz took leave;
Rudolph also was to go with them, for Braesig and Frau Nuessler had both
given their opinion that he should get into the traces immediately, for
his new business, and not loaf about any longer. Jochen and Braesig
accompanied the others a little way.
"How does your new master get on, Triddelsitz?" inquired Braesig.
"Thank you, Herr Inspector, he is quite remarkable, he made a speech to
the laborers this morning, as one might say, extempore."
"What!" exclaimed Kurz, "does he make speeches too?"
"What had he to speak about?" asked Braesig.
"What did he make?" asked Jochen.
"A speech," said Triddelsitz.
"I thought he was going to be a farmer," said Jochen.
"Why, yes," said Triddelsitz; "but cannot a farmer make a speech?"
That was too much for Jochen; a farmer make a speech? such a thing had
never occurred to him before; he did not say another word during the
whole evening, until, just before he fell asleep, he uttered his
ultimate conclusion: "That must be a confounded smart fellow!"
Braesig did not give up so easily. "What had he to speak about?" said he
again. "If there was anything to be done about the laborers, there is
Habermann!"
"Herr Inspector," said the rector, falling in, "a good speech is always
in place. Cicero----"
"Who was this Cicero?"
"The greatest orator of antiquity."
"Eh, I didn't ask about that; I mean, what was his business; was he a
farmer, or a shopkeeper, or was he appointed a magistrate, or was he a
doctor, or what was he?"
"I have told you, he was the greatest orator of antiquity."
"Oh, antiquity here, antiquity there! if he was nothing else--I cannot
bear those old gabblers, a man should do something. Let me tell you,
Rudolph, don't be an orator, you may fish, for all me, it is all one,
perch or carp,--but this speaking is as if you should go fishing in a
well. And now, good night! Come Jochen!"
With that, they went off, and Fritz struck off to the right, across the
Pumpelhagen fields, with a medley of thoughts in his head.
The old fellow was not envious, but it went against the grain that his
two schoolmates in Rahnstadt should each have a bride, while as yet he
had none. But he knew how to comfort himself. No, said he, he would not
thank any one for such a bride as they had got; he could have had
either of the little twins, but he wouldn't take them. Louise
Habermann, too, might go to Jericho, for him. He would not be a fool,
to pick the first good plum, for the first plums were always wormy; he
would wait till they were all properly ripe, and then he could take his
choice from the upper or the lower branches; and, meanwhile, all the
little maidens who ran about the world on their pretty feet belonged to
him, and then he was going to have a horse, and the very next day he
would go and buy the Whalebone mare of Gust Prebberow.