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 Braesig 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 Braesig, "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, the _black_; but the _gray_,--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 understands _that_, 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 bonc[oe]ur! 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, Braesig, 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 kuemmel 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 Braesig 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, Braesig 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 Paechter 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 Braesig 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. _They_ may 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 Haenning 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 Daesel, 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, Haeuning, Haeuning! you crowded me so!"
"You are a blockhead!" said Haeuning, 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!"