But--as I have said--the new year 1844 had come, and the winter was
over, and spring stood at the door, with leaves and grass and flowers,
only waiting a nod from the master of the house to begin her
decorations; and, as the snow and ice disappeared from the earth, men's
hearts were softened, and their eyes grew bright, like the sunshine
that lay upon the world.
Old Habermann's eyes, also, grew clearer, and his heart became lighter,
and as he worked in the fields in the spring sunshine, and sowed the
summer seed in the dark ground, the Lord was sowing his sad heart with
fresh hopes. His master had gone with his young wife to visit her
relatives, so he could govern his realm after his own pleasure, and he
could see his daughter more frequently than in the winter. This very
morning he had spoken with her, when he went to church, and now he was
sitting comfortably in his parlor, in the afternoon, thinking of
various matters; no one disturbed him, for Fritz was in the stable with
his mare, which was very agreeable for the old man, since he always
knew where he was to be found, which, formerly, had not always been the
case.
"Good day, Karl!" said Braesig, coming in at the door.
"What?" cried Habermann, springing up, "I thought you had the Podagra,
and I was just wishing I could go over to see you to-day; but the Herr
is not at home, and Triddelsitz is not to be depended upon in these
days----"
"No, what ails him?"
"Oh, his old mare is going to have a colt."
"Ha, ha!" cried Braesig, "and it will be a thorough-bred, and the young
Herr is to buy it."
"Yes, it is so. But have you had the Podagra, or not?"
"Karl, it is impossible to tell, in this confounded disease, whether it
is the proper Podagra, or not. Really, it is all the same, so far as
the torment is concerned; but in respect to the causes there is a great
difference. You see, Karl, you get the Podagra by good eating and
drinking, that is the proper kind; but if you get it only from these
infamous, good-for-nothing, double-sewed wax-leather boots, that is the
improper kind, and that is what I have."
"Yes, why do you always wear the old things, then?
"Karl, I used to wear them because of my relations with the count, and
I cannot throw them away. But what I was going to ask--have you been at
the Pastor's to-day?"
"Yes."
"Well, how is it there?"
"Ah, it looks badly, the old Herr is very weak: when he came out of the
pulpit the sweat ran down his cheeks, and it was a long time before he
got rested, lying on his sofa."
"Hm! hm!" said Braesig, shaking his head, "I don't like that; but, Karl,
he is getting into years."
"That is true," said Habermann, thoughtfully.
"How is your little girl?" asked Braesig.
"Thank you, Zachary, she is very well, thank God! She was here last
week,--I had no time to spare, I must be out sowing peas, but the
gracious lady had seen her, and kept her, and she stayed here until
evening.
"Karl!" cried Braesig, springing up, and walking back and forth, and
biting off in his excitement, the knob from the point of his pipe, "you
may believe me or not,--your gracious lady is the chief production of
the whole human race."
Habermann rose also, and walked up and down, and every time that they
met each other, they smoked more violently, and Braesig asked, "Am I not
right, Karl," and Habermann replied, "You are right, Zachary." And who
knows how long they would have ruminated upon this topic, if a carriage
had not driven up, from which Kurz and the rector descended.
"Good day! good day!" cried Kurz, as he entered the room, "see there,
see there, there is the Herr Inspector. Well, how goes it, old friend?
Habermann, I came about that clover seed."
"Good day," said Rector Baldrian, to Braesig, drawing out the word
"day," as if the day were to last forever, "how goes it with you, my
honored friend?"
"Very well," said Braesig.
"Habermann," exclaimed Kurz, "Isn't it so? Capital seed!"
"Why, Kurz," said Habermann, "the seed wasn't quite ripe. I tried it on
the hot shovel, and if it is the right kind, the kernels will spring
up, like flies, from the shovel, but here many kernels lay still."
"You don't look quite so blooming, my honored friend," said the rector
to Braesig, "as at the time when we drank punch together, at the
betrothals."
"There is reason for that," said Habermann, throwing his arm over
Braesig's shoulder, "my old friend has bad a touch of Podagra again."
"Yes, yes," laughed the rector, growing quite merry:
"Vinum the father,
And c[oe]na the mother,
And Venus the nurse,
Produce the Podagra."
"The seed is beautiful!" cried Kurz, "you will find no better between
Grimmen and Greifswald."
"Ho, ho, Kurz," said Habermann, "not go fast! I have a word to say----"
"Listen to me!" said Braesig, across to the rector. "Don't come near me
with your French! I don't understand it. What did you say about Fenus?
What have I, and my cursed Podagra, to do with Fenus?"
"My honored friend and benefactor," said the rector, with unction,
"Venus was, in antiquity, the goddess of love."
"It is all one to me," said Braesig, "she might be something very
different, for all I care,--now-a-days, every stupid sheep-dog is
called Fenus."
"No, Habermann," cried Kurz, again, "if the clover seed has the right
lustre, and looks so violet-blue, then----"
"Well, Kurz," said Habermann, "yours didn't look like that."
"My benefactor," said the rector again, to Braesig. "Venus was, as I
have said, a goddess, and as a sheep-dog----"
"Eh, what?" said Braesig, "you must have imagined all that, about the
goddess, Fenus means a sort of bird. Karl, don't you remember the
stories we read, when we were children, about the bird Fenus?"
"Ah!" said the rector, as light dawned upon his mind, "you mean the
bird Ph[oe]nix, which builds itself, in Arabia, a nest of costly
spices----"
"That is an impossibility!" exclaimed Kurz. "How can the most skillful
bird build a nest out of cloves, pepper-corns, cardamoms and nutmegs?"
"Dear brother-in-law, it is only a fable."
"Then the fable is a falsehood," said Braesig, "but I don't think you
pronounce the word rightly; it isn't Ph[oe]nix, it is Ponix, and they
are not birds, they are little horses, and they don't come from Arabia,
but from Sweden, and Oland, and I know them very well, for my gracious
lady the countess had two Ponixes, which she used to drive for
pleasure."
The rector wanted to set him right, but Kurz interrupted: "No,
brother-in-law, let it go! We all know that you are better informed
than Braesig, in such learned matters."
"No," said Braesig, "let him come on!" standing before the rector, as if
he had no objections to a contest.
"No, no!" exclaimed Kurz. "We didn't come out here, to quarrel about
Venuses and clover-seed; we came merely to have a pleasant game of
Boston."
"We can have that," said Habermann, beginning to clear the table.
"Hold, Karl," said Braesig, "I don't like to see you doing that, that is
the house-steward's business." And with that he roared across the
court, "Triddelsitz!" and Fritz came running in. "Triddelsitz, we are
going to play Boston, get the table ready, and a sheet of paper to set
down the winnings, and fill the pipes, and make a handful of matches."
And when Fritz had made ready, they sat down, and prepared to begin.
They must first decide how high they would play. Kurz was for playing
Boston grandissimo, for shilling points; but Kurz was always very
venturesome; that was a little too high for the others, and Braesig
declared that he wouldn't sit down to play, to get people's money out
of their pockets. At last, through Habermann's interposition, they
settled what the game should be, and were ready to begin.
"Who has diamonds?" asked the rector; "he deals."
"Kurz deals," said Braesig.
So now they could finally begin; but they did not begin, quite yet, for
the rector laid his hand on the cards, and said, looking around the
circle, "It is worthy of note! We are all pretty reasonable men, and we
are going to play a game, namely the game of cards, which, according to
authentic information, was invented for the entertainment of an insane
king. King Charles of France----"
"Come, children," said Kurz, taking the cards out of the rector's,
hand, "if we are going to play, let us play, if we are going to tell
stories, we will tell stories."
"Go ahead!" cried Braesig, and Kurz dealt,--made a misdeal, however in
his haste, so "Once more!" This time it was all right, and they began
to look at their cards. "I pass," said Habermann, who had the lead.
Then it came to the rector; they had to wait for him a little, because
he had not yet arranged his cards, for he had a superstition that the
cards were better if he took them up, one by one, and because he
improved all his opportunities with great conscientiousness he arranged
all his cards in order of rank and turned the sevens and fives so that
he could see the middle spot, and not mistake them for the sixes and
the fours. Kurz, meanwhile, laid his cards on the table, folded his
hands over them, looked at him and sighed. "I pass," said the rector.
"I knew you would," said Kurz, for he knew that his brother-in-law must
examine his cards closely, before he would commit himself, and, on the
other hand, he was afraid of his assisting, because usually he either
had nothing, or if he had something, he played it the wrong time.
"Pass!" said Braesig, whose turn came next.
"Boston grandissimo!" said Kurz. "Who assists?"
"Pass!" said Habermann.
"Dear brother-in-law," said the rector, "I--one trick--two tricks--well
I shall find a third--I assist."
"Well," said Kurz, "but we don't pay together. Each pays for himself."
"Come, Karl," said Braesig, "Out with it! We will break their fiddle in
two."
"Well," said Kurz, "don't talk about it."
"God forbid," said Habermann, and led the ten of hearts: "Duke Michael
fell upon the land."
"Come, Herr Oberfoerster," said the rector, playing the knave of hearts.
"Herze mich und kuesse mich, und kruenkle meine krause nich,"[5] said
Braesig, playing the queen.
"That maid must have a man," said Kurz, playing the king, and, laying
the trick aside, he led a low club (kreuz). "Kreuz Kringel und
Zweibach!"[6]
"Bite, Peter, they are lentils!" cried Braesig to Habermann.
"Hold!" cried Kurz, "no telling!"
"God forbid!" said Habermann, and played also a low club.
"A fine singer is our sexton," said the rector, playing the nine.
"A cross and strife, a wicked wife, the Lord hath sent upon me," said
Braesig, and took the trick with the queen.
"Well," said Kurz, "that was a heavy cross, to be sure. What have you
next?"
"Pay attention, Karl, now we begin our journey," said Braesig. "Herr,"
to Kurz, "I was whist. Here! Pikas was a pointer," and led the pik-as
(ace of spades), and followed with the king,--"Long live the king!" and
then the queen,--"Respect for the ladies!"
"Good heavens!" cried Kurz, laying down his cards, and looking at the
rector, "what a hand! He can't have any more spades."
"Dear brother-in-law," said the rector, "I come yet."
"But too late," said Kurz, taking up his cards, with a deep sigh, as if
the rector had treated him unworthily, but he would bear it like a
christian.
"Karl," said Braesig, "how much have we in all?
"Four tricks," said Habermann.
"Come," said Kurz, "that is not fair, no telling!"
"Is it telling," said Braesig, "when I merely ask a question? Now pay
attention, Karl, I shall take one more, and if you take one, then we
are out."
"I shall get mine," said Kurz.
"And I shall get mine, too," said the rector.
After a couple of rounds, Kurz laid his hand over his tricks: "So, I
have mine." Diamonds were on the table, the rector ventured a cut with
the queen, Braesig followed with the king, and the poor rector had lost
his trick: "How that could happen, I cannot comprehend!"
"It wasn't a whist game!" cried Kurz.
"Karl," said Braesig, "if you had been careful, they would have lost
another trick."
"You must blame yourself for that, you didn't play after me in hearts."
"Karl, did I have any? I had nothing but the queen."
"No, brother-in-law," cried Kurz, meantime, "you threw away the game,
you had the king of clubs, and you played the nine. It lost the game."
"What would you have?" said Braesig, with great contempt. "Are you a
dunce? Here I sit with a handful of spades, and a couple of queens
besides; what would you have?"
"Herr, do you think, when I have said Boston, I am afraid of your
trumpery queens?"
"Come, come!" cried Habermann, dealing the cards, "let it go, this old
after-play is disagreeable."
In this fashion, they played on, and it seemed as if they would tear
each other's hair, and yet they had the best feelings towards each
other. The rector won, and he had the best prospect of winning, for he
who loses the first game, as is well known, always wins afterward. Kurz
sat disconsolate at his bad luck; but that also often finds
compensation. "Ten grandissimo!" said he. All were surprised, even he
himself, and he looked his cards through once more. "Ten grandissimo!"
said he again, laid the cards on the table, and walked up and down the
room: "They play like that in Venice, and other great watering places."
In the midst of his greatest triumph, and the greatest distress of the
others, Fritz Triddelsitz came to the door, looking quite disturbed and
pale: "Herr Inspector, Herr Habermann, oh, do come out here!"
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Habermann, "what has happened?" and was
springing up, but Kurz held him back.
"No," said he, "the game must be played first. It happened so to me,
once before, at the time of the great fire, I had just put a grand on
the table, and they all ran away."
"Herr Inspector," begged Fritz, "you must come."
"What is it?" cried Habermann, dropping his cards, and jumping up. "Is
anything on fire?"
"No," stammered Fritz, "I--me--something has happened to me."
"What has happened to you?" said Braesig, across the table.
"My chestnut mare has a colt," said Fritz, in an anxious tone.
"Well, that has often happened," said Braesig, "but you make a face like
a funeral; it is rather a joyful occasion, under the circumstances."
"Yes," said Fritz, "but--but--it is so queer. You must come with me,
Herr Inspector."
"Why, is the colt dead?" asked Habermann.
"No," said Fritz, "it is well enough; but it looks so queer. Krischan
Daesel says he should think it was a young camel."
"Well," said Habermann, "we can finish the game afterwards, we will go
out with you."
And in spite of Kurz's remonstrances, they all went with Fritz to the
stable.
"I never saw such a colt," said Fritz, on the way, "it has ears as long
as that," measuring from the wrist to the elbow.
When they came to the stable, there stood Krischan Daesel by the
enclosure, where the mare was looking fondly at her little one, and
whinnying over it, and the little one was making its first attempts at
springing about; he shook his head, and said to Braesig, who came and
stood by him, "Now tell me, Herr Inspector, did you ever see the like
of that?"
"Yes," said Braesig, looking at Habermann, and said with emphasis, "I
will tell you, Karl, what sort of an animal it is. Fullblood's colt is
a mule."
"That is it," said Habermann.
"A mule?" cried Fritz, and he sprung over into the enclosure, and
succeeded, in spite of the whinnying of the old mare, in grasping the
colt by the neck, and examined his face and eyes and ears, and as the
fearful truth flashed upon him he exclaimed, in fierce anger, "Oh, I
could wring the creature's neck, and Gust Prebberow's, into the
bargain!"
"For shame, Triddelsitz," said Habermann, seriously, "just see how
pleased the mother is, even if it isn't a thorough-bred."
"Yes," cried Braesig, "and she is the nearest to it, as the Frau
Pastorin says. But you may wring Gust Prebberow's neck, for all I care,
for he is an out-and-out, double-distilled rascal."
"How is it possible!" said Fritz, as he slowly stepped out of the
enclosure, and his wrath had given place to a great melancholy; "he is
my best friend, and now he has cheated me with a deaf horse and a mule.
I will sue him."
"I told you before, there was no friendship nor honesty in
horse-dealing," said Braesig, taking Fritz under the arm, and drawing
him out of the stable, "but I am sorry for you, in your just
retribution. You have bought your experience in horse-dealing, and that
is what every one must do, but let me warn you against a horse lawsuit,
for long after the mule is dead such a lawsuit will be far from ended.
You see," he went on, leading Fritz up and down the court, "I will tell
you a story, for an example. You see, there was old Ruetebusch, of
Swensin, he sold a horse to his own brother-in-law, who was inspector
here before Habermann's time, an infamous creature of a dapple-gray, as
a saddle-horse. Good, or, as you are in the habit of saying, 'Bong!'
Three days after, the inspector wishes to try his new acquisition, so
he climbs on to the creature, which was very high; but scarcely was he
seated, when the old schinder ran off to the village pond--no stopping
him!--and there he stood, up to the neck in water, and would move
neither back nor forward.
"It was fortunate, both for the dapple-gray and the inspector, else
they might both have been drowned; the inspector roared mightily for
help, for he couldn't get down there, and he couldn't swim, and old
Flegel the wheelwright had to come to his rescue in a boat. Well, then
the lawsuit began, for the inspector said the horse was a stupid, what
we farmers call a studirten (scholar), and Ruetebusch must take him
back, for stupidity protects from everything, in horse-dealing as in
other matters. Ruetebusch wouldn't do it, and the two brothers-in-law
first had a falling out, and then quarrelled so bitterly, that they
wouldn't go within three miles of each other.
"The lawsuit went on, all the time. All Swensin was called up to
testify that the creature was in its right mind when they knew it, and
the Pumpelhagen people had to swear that it appeared to them like a
studirten. So the lawsuit went on, into its fifth year, and the
creature stood quietly in its stable, eating oats, for the inspector
never got on it again, since he considered it such a dangerous animal;
he dared not kill it, either; for it was the _corpus delicti_ of
the whole concern, as they call it. They brought the most learned
horse-doctors to see it, but it did no good, for they were not agreed,
three said it was clever, and three said it was stupid. The lawsuit was
going on, slowly, all the time, and a whole brood of new lawsuits was
hatched out of it, for the learned horse-doctors charged each other
with maliciousness and ill-breeding, and sued each other for libel.
Then they wrote to a celebrated horse-professor, in Berlin, to see what
he thought of the business. He wrote back that they must cut off the
old schinder's head, and send it to him, till he could examine the
brains; it was hard enough to tell whether a reasonable being was
clever or stupid, but it was harder, with an unreasonable beast,
because the poor creature had nothing to say for himself.
"Well, that might have been done, but old Ruetebusch and his lawyer
opposed it, and carried their point, and the suit went on again. Then
old Ruetebusch died, and six months afterwards, his brother-in-law died
also, and they never were reconciled, even on their death-beds, and
went into eternity, each obstinate in his own opinion, the one that the
old schinder was clever, the other that he was stupid. The lawsuit was
suspended, for the time, and soon died out of itself, for the old
gray kicked the bucket, three weeks later, out of pure idleness and
over-feeding. Then they salted his head nicely, and sent it to the
professor, at Berlin, and he wrote back, clearly and distinctly, that
the old horse had, all his life, been as little of a studirten as
himself, and he only wished that every one of the lawyers had as much
intelligence as the beast, so very reasonable had his brains appeared.
And the man was right; for I afterwards had the infamous rascal of a
boy, who brought out the horse for the inspector, for a servant, and he
confessed to me that he had tied a piece of burning tinder under the
poor creature's tail, out of pure deviltry, because the inspector had
given him a beating the day before. And I ask any reasonable being, how
intelligent must not that poor beast have been, to run into the village
pond, to extinguish the fire! And so the great lawsuit came to an end;
but the little lawsuits, between the learned horse-doctors, are still
going on. And now, let me tell you something: Habermann is a good
friend of old Prebberow, the rascal's father, and he shall speak to
him, and get justice done you. And now you may go, and don't cherish
any hatred against the innocent little beast, or against the mother,
for they couldn't help it, and the mother is a poor, deceived creature,
as well as you."
With that, he followed the others, who had returned to the card-table.
"Come, come!" said Kurz, "so; ten grandissimo! I play myself."
"Karl," "aid Braesig, "you must talk with old Prebberow, and not let
your confounded greyhound get into difficulties."
"I will do so, Zachary, and it shall all be made right; but I am sorry
for the poor boy, that he should be so disappointed. Who would have
thought of a mule!" (maulesel.)
"I observe," said the rector, laying the cards, which he had arranged
in order of rank, upon the table, "that you all speak of this little
new-born animal as a maulesel, while according to the natural history
use of language, it should be called a maulthier. The difference
is----"
"Don't bore us with your natural history!" cried Kurz. "Are we playing
natural history, or are we playing cards? Here, ace of diamonds lies on
the table!"
Well, there was no help for it, they suited and suited, and Kurz won
the game, and with it the right to boast, for four weeks, of his ten
grandissimo.
So they played on, in friendly excitement, until the rector, looking
over the account, became aware that he had won, in all, three thalers
and eight groschen, and since the luck was going rather against him of
late, he resolved to stop; so he rose, and said his feet were getting
cold, and put his winnings in his pocket.
"If you suffer from cold feet," said Braesig, "I will tell you a good
remedy; take a pinch of snuff every morning, on an empty stomach,--that
is good for cold feet."
"Eh, what!" cried Kurz, who had been winning lately, "how can he get
cold feet?"
"So?" said the rector, hotly, for he was determined to retain his
winnings, "haven't I as good a right to cold feet as you? Don't you
always get cold feet, at our club, when you have had good luck?" and he
carried it out, he kept his cold feet, and his winnings, and after a
little while the two city people drove off, taking Braesig with them.
Habermann was just going to bed, when there was a loud talking and
scolding before the door, and Fritz Triddelsitz and Krischan Daesel came
in.
"Good evening, Herr Inspector," said Krischan, "it is all the same to
me."
"What is the matter now?" asked Habermann.
"Herr Inspector," said Fritz, "you know how it has gone with--well,
with the mule, and now Krischan won't have the beast in the stable."
"What has happened?" said Habermann.
"Yes, Herr, it is all the same to me. But this isn't all the same, I
have been used to horses and colts, and not to camels and mules. Why,
Herr Triddelsitz might as well bring bears and monkeys into the
riding-stable!"
"Well, but if I tell you so, the beast _shall_ stand in the stable, and
you shall take just as good care of it as of any other colt."
"Yes, if you command me, then it is all the same to me, and then it
shall always be so. Well, good night, Herr Inspector, and don't take it
ill of me," and he went off.
"Herr Habermann," said Fritz, "what will Herr von Rambow say to this
accident? and the gracious lady too?"
"Make yourself easy, they will not trouble themselves much about it.
"Well," said Fritz, and went out of the door, to go to bed, "it is too
provoking, that this should have happened to my mare."
When the Herr came home from his journey, he got the story of the
chestnut mare fresh from Krischan, and because he was a good-natured
man, and liked Fritz, since in some respects they were a good deal
alike, he comforted him and said, "Never mind! This does not interfere
with our bargain. You must think that it is only the natural result of
a _mesalliance_. We will put the mare and the colt into the paddock, by
and by; and you will see they will give us a great deal of pleasure."
It was really so; every one found amusement in the little beast. When
the village children strolled through the fields, on Sunday afternoons,
they would go to the paddock, and gaze at the little mule: "See,
Joching, there he is." "Yes, that is a nice one! See, how he pricks up
his ears!" "Now look, see him kick!"
When the maids passed the paddock, on the way to the milking shed, they
also stopped: "See, Stina, there is Herr Triddelsitz's mule!" "Come,
Fika, let us go round that way." "Not I, what a horrid-looking
creature!" "You need not call him horrid, he gives you the least
trouble of any of them."
And through the whole region, the mare and the mule and Fritz were
renowned, and wherever the latter showed himself he was asked after the
welfare of the mule, to his great annoyance. The little old donkey,
however, was not at all troubled, he ran about in the paddock all
summer, with the other well-born and high-born colts, and, if any of
them came too near him, he knew how to stand up for his rights.