CONCLUSION.
A year ago, before I moved from Mecklenburg to Thuringia, I visited the
old chimney-corner once more, where I had spent so many happy days in
my youth; and so I came to Rahnstadt, and went from there one
afternoon, in the month of June, along the road to Gurlitz.
I intended to visit Habermann and Braesig and the Frau Pastorin, whom I
had known since the time I was an apprentice, and had often visited in
Rahnstadt; I had known Gottlieb too, at first in his Pietist days,
and,--strangely,--we came to be very good friends, although we held
quite different opinions; probably because I was a very sedate youth,
and Gottlieb liked me on that account.
When I arrived at Gurlitz, I went up to the widow-house, and took hold
of the handle of the door; the door was fast. "Hm!" said I to myself,
"it is Sunday afternoon, it is hot, they have all gone to sleep." I
went to the window, and raised myself on tiptoe, to look in; when a
voice behind me said:
"Eh, Herr, that will do you no good; there is nobody there."
"Doesn't the Frau Pastorin live here?"
"She is dead."
"And Habermann?" I inquired.
"He has moved to Pumpelhagen, to live with the gracious Frau."
"Is the Herr Pastor at home?"
"Yes, he is at home," said old Juern, for it was he, "yes, he is at
home, and the Frau Pastorin too; they are just drinking coffee."
I went to the house and knocked at the door. "Come in!" cried a rich
voice. I entered,--well, in the course of my life, I have met with a
great deal that I could not explain, and some things that were very
surprising,--but this time I was not merely surprised, I was really
startled! There sat Gottlieb, his haircut very reasonably short, and
instead of resembling the hollow of Frau Nuessler's baking trough his
form was more like the increasing moon; the white, sunken cheeks had
become smooth and ruddy, and the red, full lips seemed to say, "We have
had a good dinner to-day, but we and the stout teeth behind us have
done our duty." And that was the expression of the whole man, one that
enjoyed good dinners, and yet did his duty. There was nothing lazy
about his looks, all was firm and clean, and told of hard work, and
refreshing rest, and comfortable meals. Well, and now! Of the Frau
Pastorin Lining there was no trace, she had changed into the exact
image of the little, round Frau Pastorin Behrends. "Hm!" said I to
myself, "the wind sits fair in this quarter."
When the first greetings were over, we sat down together, and there
were many questions to ask, especially on my side. The story that I
have related I had mostly from Braesig; Habermann also would let a word
fall, now and then, for I was rather a favourite with the old man, and
some things I inquired about elsewhere, a little later, and because the
principal events occurred while I was apprenticed on an estate, I have
called it, "During my apprenticeship."
Gottlieb told me various things, and Frau Pastorin Lining helped him,
for she was constantly interrupting; and when I rose, to go to
Pumpelhagen,--for I had known Franz also, when I was apprenticed in the
region,--Gottlieb said, "Yes, go! You will find them all together,
there; we will come by and by, and bring our three children; the oldest
is absent, he is already at the gymnasium." I went through the Gurlitz
church-yard, thinking over what I had heard, and it was just what is
always happening on this earth; joy and sorrow, birth and death.
The first of our friends who had deceased was Bauschan. He did not die
a natural death,--not that he committed suicide--no! One day weaver
Ruhrdanz came into the Rexow farm-yard, with a rusty flint-lock,
took Bauschan by the collar, and led him into the garden; the
new crown-prince was there as a spectator, and--as appeared
afterwards--behaved very badly upon the occasion, rushing about, and
growling. A shot was heard, and soon after Ruhrdanz came in, and
reported that Bauschan had made a very Christian end. Frau Nuessler
poured him a glass of schnapps, and when he had drank it, very gravely,
he said that he and the other Gurlitz people had been before the court
that morning; they were all sentenced to a year's imprisonment, and
because he was the head one, or the ringleader, as they called it, he
must have six months longer. He went out, but came back to say: "Frau,
you will not forget my old woman! It all happened because we had no
papers."
The second who died was Jochen himself. Since the time that he had
given up the control, he had taken to managing; he ran about the fields
all day, especially in places where there was nothing to do, and would
stand there, shaking his head, but saying nothing. And one Sunday,
between Christmas and New-Year's, when the snow lay a foot deep over
the fields, he was out and happened to fall into a ditch. He came home
quite chilled; Frau Nuessler gave him camomile tea, by the quart; he
drank it submissively, but next morning he said, "Mother, what is not
to be helped, is not. What must be, must. It is all as true as leather,
and one can do nothing more about it," and with that, he fell asleep.
He had managed himself to death, and Frau Nuessler thought seriously of
inscribing on his tombstone:
"He died in his vocation."
Moses was the next; the old man had walked firm and upright through
life, and firm and upright he went out of it. He died firm in his
faith, and they did for him according to the customs of the tribe of
Judah,--for he belonged to the tribe of Judah,---and when he was buried
David sat in the ashes, with a torn coat, and many Christians followed
him to the church-yard around which he had built the oaken fence, and I
believe he is in Abraham's bosom, where Christians are also received.
And the day after his funeral, there were three people standing at his
grave, namely, Habermann, and the two young Fraus von Rambow,--Frida
was come for a visit,--and Habermann wiped his old eyes, and the two
young Fraus laid a couple of fresh wreaths on the grave of the old Jew,
and, as they walked thoughtfully away through the Rahnstadt meadows,
Habermann said, "He was a Jew in faith, and a Christian in deeds."
And now comes Haeuning's turn--our brave old Haeuning. Pomuchelskopp had
gone off, neck and crop, bag and baggage, in the blue coach with the
coat of arms, and with as many furniture wagons as he had fat sheep, to
Rostock. When times got a little better for credit, he earned himself a
nickname, they called him, "Much too cheap!" for he related his story
to every one who would listen to him, and lamented his hard fate, and
the sale of Gurlitz, and always ended with a deep sigh, "Much too
cheap! Oh, very much too cheap!"
His brave Haeuning pursued her course unterrified, and kept up her
authority; but, dear knows, what a time she had with those Rostock
maid-servants! They would not put up with such treatment as the
Gurlitzers were compelled to endure. Every week, she had a new maid;
one, indeed, behaved more reasonably, that was an old cook; but when
she had been there about three months, this worthless creature became
refractory. Haeuning was very decided, she caught up the fire-tongs, and
gave her a hard blow on the head. The girl hadn't another word to say,
for she fell flat on the kitchen hearth. A doctor came and talked a
great deal about suggillations and fractures; but the end of the story
was, the poor girl was taken to the hospital. The doctor was an honest
man, he reported the matter to the rightful authorities, and Haeuning
was summoned before the court. If she had made use of a pudding-stick,
of the same length and thickness, they would have done nothing to her;
but, in her valor, she had seized the tongs! Tongs were not down in the
Mecklenburg statutes, and so Haeuning was condemned, besides the costs,
and what she must give the poor girl, to six weeks' imprisonment.
Pomuchel protested, he appealed, he supplicated; it was of no use;
Haeuning was imprisoned on account of her great valor. He told his story
to every one who would listen, he poured out streams of abusive talk
about the court; at last, one of the judges happened to hear of it, and
the chancellor made Pomuchel a present of four weeks' imprisonment, for
himself. He tried to buy off, with money; but it was no go; even the
Herr Senator Bank said, "No! this time the poltroon should be served
out." And so those two old brave people were confined in adjoining
rooms, over Christmas, 1852, and New Year's, 1853; and when they had
been there a fortnight the jailer remarked to his wife: "Fika, there is
quite a difference between the two; he runs about his room as if he was
crazy, berating everybody, and she sits there, stiff and stark, in the
same place, where she sat down the first evening."
Malchen and Salchen, meanwhile, to the great distress of their elders,
gave a great tea-party, to which Herr Suessmann was invited, as he had,
merely out of compassion, accepted a situation in the Maehlenstrasse.
When our old friend were set free, Pomuchelskopp sat down in the living
room, and bewailed himself to his daughters. Haeuning went straight to
the kitchen, and there found a day-laborer's wife; for, during their
imprisonment, there had been a great excitement, and the Rostock
maid-servants had resolved that no respectable girl should go into
service at the Pomuchelskopps. So they hired this woman by the day.
"What do you get a day?" asked Haeuning.
"Sixteen groschen," was the reply. Haeuning grasped the tongs, but
bethought herself in time. But this self-control made the evil overflow
into her blood, and three days after she was dead; and in three days
more she was buried. Pomuchelskopp and his daughters do not know where
she lies, and if any one inquires, they say, "She is buried over
yonder,--over yonder." But Gustaving, who, in his capacity of
inspector, often visits the city, knows. He took one of the little ones
by the hand, and showed him the place: "See, Krischaning, mother is
buried there."
I have been telling of sorrow, and have yet more to relate; but why not
also of joy? There was joy in the pastor's-widow-house, for long years.
Frau Pastorin used to sit, on summer evenings, and look at her Pastor's
grave. Ah! how glad she would be to die; and then, when Duert brought
the candles, she would turn round, and look at her old furniture, and
the picture gallery, and the duster in its old place, and under the
picture gallery, the two friendly old faces, which she had so often
seen there in her Pastor's time, and then, how glad she was to live!
Habermann was constantly active, no longer for strangers, but for his
children and grandchildren, for Louise had two of the dearest little
girls; and he had still another gratification. Fritz Triddelsitz walked
in one day,--of course in a blue dress-coat,--with the little assessor,
and introduced himself as a proprietor, in Lower Pomerania, and the
little assessor as his bride; and when he had talked of various matters
through the evening, and they had gone away, Braesig said, "Karl, this
time you were right again; but who would have thought it? Your
greyhound has become quite a reasonable being; but don't plume yourself
too much upon it; it is not your doing, it is the little assessor's."
Braesig himself scoured the whole region after news. Now he was in
Rexow, then in Pumpelhagen, then in Rahnstadt, but his chief place of
resort was Hogen Selchow. He journeyed thither, nearly every quarter,
and when he came back he would say, "Karl, it goes well; he has quite
given up the management, and now he sits in his work-shop, and invents.
Stuff and nonsense, of course; but Bremer says he would not ask for a
better master, and the gracious Frau looks as happy and blessed as an
angel in Paradise. But, Karl, he is not so stupid, after all. He has
made one invention, that I am going to try, myself. You see, you take
an old hat, cut out a hole in front, and put a lantern in, and when you
are riding out, in the winter evenings, and have your lantern there,
you can see, as if it were broad daylight."
Braesig actually brought Axel's invention into practice, and frightened
all the country people in the region; but once when he had visited
Hogen Selchow, he had an attack of his old friend the Podagra, and the
old friend kicked him in the stomach, with both feet, and on the way
home, he took a severe cold. And so he lay on his death-bed.
The Frau Pastorin and Frau Nuessler and his old Karl Habermann were
sitting by him, and the Frau Pastorin said, "Dear Braesig, shall I not
call in the young Herr Pastor?"
"Let it go, Frau Pastorin, you have called me a heathen all my life;
it may not have been right for me to live as I have done; but the
pastor-business! No, it is better so. And, Karl, my sister's daughter,
Lotting, is to have two thousand thalers; and the rest shall go to the
school in Rahnstadt; for, Karl, the Frau Pastorin has enough to live
on, and you have enough to live on, but the poor school-children are so
badly off! And Frau Nuessler has enough to live on, and my godchild,
Mining, and you, Karl, and you are all going to live, and I am going to
die." And then his mind began to wander and he was once more in his
early childhood, keeping sheep for his father, and an old ram made him
a great deal of trouble, and he called to Frau Nuessler to come and help
him, and Frau Nuessler sat down on the bed, and put her arms around him,
and then he began about the three sweethearts, and Frau Nuessler, and
kept calling out that he had never loved any one but her, and Frau
Nuessler kissed the words from his lips, saying, "I know it, Braesig, my
dear, old Zachary, I know it."
And the fancies came thicker and faster, about the time when he was
assessor at the court, and the indiciums, and the young Herr von
Rambow, and the Lauban pond, and how he threw the pistol into the pond
and lost four groschen on the wager. And then a strange lightness came
over him, and he told his dear old Frau Nuessler the most wonderful
stories about the little twins, and his godchild, Mining, and Karl
Habermann and Louise,--all intermingled with each other,--holding Frau
Nuessler's hand fast in his all the while; but suddenly he raised
himself, and said, "Frau Nuessler, lay your hand on my head; I have
always loved you. Karl Habermann, rub my feet, they are cold."
Habermann did so, and a bright smile flashed across Braesig's face, and
he said slowly, "I was always ahead of you in style." That was the
last.
Our little Frau Pastorin soon followed him. There are a few people who
live very happily on earth, and yet are glad to die. To these few
belonged the little round Frau. She was very comfortable here below,
but when she thought of the home above, a dear old face shown upon her,
and old tones rang in her ears, for she thought of heaven as a little,
neat, clean village church, where the angels sang and her pastor
preached. Now she is with him, and can put on his mantle, and tie his
bands, and sing with him, in the little church, no longer "funeral
hymns," no! "resurrection songs."
With these thoughts running through my head, I turned the corner near
the arbor, where so many people had sat in their trouble and distress,
and saw, playing on the lawn, three little maidens from four to eleven
years of age. And, as I came nearer, I saw a lady with a friendly,
contented expression in her face, and she dropped her work in her lap,
and smiled at the little girls, and shook her finger at them: "Don't
provoke me too far!" Near her, sat a fresh, healthy-looking man,
reading the newspaper, and he laid it down and shook his head, as if he
said, "There is nothing in it." And farther on sat an old man, at whose
knee a little girl of twelve years was leaning, and chatting with him,
and he interrupted her lively childish prattle, to say to the young
Frau: "Let them play, Louise, they will become steady and reasonable
soon enough." And as I came round the corner, the old man exclaimed:
"Good heavens! is not that----?" And Franz and Louise came towards me,
and Franz said, "See! see! That is right, Fritz, to visit us once
more!"
"Many greetings, gracious Frau," said I, "from my Louise," for my wife
is a Louise too. And we talked of one thing and another, but our quiet
did not last long, for a troop came tearing through the garden, like
the wild hunt, and four boys, with brown eyes, and brown cheeks, and
gray jackets and trousers, scampered up the path, and a little rogue of
six years rushed up to Franz and clasped his knees, saying over his
shoulder to the others, "I am the first!"
"Yes," said another, a boy of about twelve, "I believe you, you ran
through the meadow; but how you look! Mather will scold finely!" And
now the little fellow looked down at his stockings and trousers, and,
truly! if his mother were contented with their condition, he would have
reason to be thankful.
"Are your father and mother coming soon?"
"Yes," said the eldest boy, "they are close by. And grandmother is
coming too, and Frau von Rambow, who came yesterday."
"Ah, Frida?" cried Louise, "that is good!" And it was not long before
Rudolph and Mining came up, and they looked like a fair day in summer,
when the sunlight lies broad over the fields, and the shadows are
short, and men are working in their shirt-sleeves. Rudolph has become a
capable fellow who counts for something among his colleagues, for he
does not carry on his farming in the old-fashioned, narrow ways, and
has regard to the welfare of other people, and of the whole country, as
well as to his own profit. And behind them came Frau Nuessler, and
Frida. The Frau von Rambow looked to the right, and the left, and her
face grew sad, and when she came to the arbor and the first greetings
were over, Louise called to her oldest daughter, "Frida, bring auntie a
chair!" for Frida had once said, she could never sit again on that
bench, where she had sat in such anguish.
Frau Nuessler went up to Habermann:
"How are you, Brother Karl?"
"Finely!" cried Habermann, in a loud voice, for Frau Nuessler had grown
very hard of hearing, "and you?"
"Very well, all but my hearing; that is worse. They say it comes from
taking cold. Nonsense! how should I take cold? I will tell you, Karl,
it came from Jochen; for he talked and talked so much, at the last, and
I was quite worn out. Well, he could not help it, it was in his
nature."
Then came Pastor Gottlieb and Lining, with three children. And the
children played together, and their elders talked together, and at
supper time the tables were laid, out of doors, one for the older
people by themselves, and one for the children by themselves, and
Louise's eldest daughter presided at the children's table, and
Grandfather Habermann at the other, and both with a very different rule
from our old Haeuning. How friendly and pleasant it was!
And as we old subjects of Habermann were sitting together merrily,
rejoicing in his government, who came along the garden path? Fritz
Triddelsitz and the little assessor. What an uproar! How many questions
were asked and answered, in a few moments!
All at once, Triddelsitz caught sight of me: "Fritz, where did _you_
come from?"
"Eh, Fritz where did _you_ come from?"
"Fritz I haven't seen you in seven cold winters!"
"Nor I you, Fritz."
So we "Fritzed" each other, back and forth, to the amusement of the
whole company.
"Fritz," asked he, "do you still write books?"
"Yes, Fritz, I have written a whole heap of them."
"Well, Fritz, do me a single favor, and never put me into any of them."
"Eh!" said I, "there's no help for it; you are in already, Fritz."
"What am I in about?" he asked hastily.
"The rendezvous, at the great water-ditch."
"What is that?" asked Louise, who sat opposite me.
Franz laughed heartily: "I will tell you, another time."
"No, no!" cried Fritz.
"Why, what is it then?" asked the little assessor, looking at me, Fritz
Reuter, and then at him, Fritz Triddelsitz. I was silent, and he said:
"I will tell you, another time."
Old Grandfather Habermann laughed with all his might.
When we were by ourselves, afterwards, Fritz took my arm, and said:
"Just tell me, who told the story?"
"Braesig," said I.
"I thought so," said he, "Braesig was the chief person in the whole
story."
"That he was," said I.
* * *
Some people may ask the question, Where are Pumpelhagen and Rexow and
Gurlitz? Well, you will look in vain for them on the map, and yet
they are situated in our German Fatherland, and I hope they are to be
found in more places than one. Everywhere, where a nobleman resides,
who does not think himself better than his fellow-men, and who
recognizes the lowest of his laborers as his brother, and himself as a
fellow-worker,--there is Pumpelhagen. Wherever there is a clergyman,
who does not demand, in his self-conceit, that everybody shall believe
precisely as he does, who makes no difference between poor and rich,
who not only preaches, but is ready with kind words, and wise counsel,
and substantial help, when it is needed,--there is Gurlitz. Wherever a
burgher is active and energetic, and is driven by an impulse to become
wiser and more capable, and thinks more of the general welfare than of
his own pecuniary advantage,--there is Rexow. And wherever these three
are united, through the love of sweet womanhood, and the hopes of
fresh, joyous childhood, there are, also, all three villages together.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: Du (thou) is the common form of address between friends;
Sie (third person plural) being used with strangers, and on formal
occasions.]
[Footnote 2: Braesig probably means "Douche." "Tuesche" is Indian-ink.]
[Footnote 3: A Paechter is one who rents a farm.]
[Footnote 4: A Mecklenburg Schilling is equal to an English penny.]
[Footnote 5: "Hug me and kiss me, but don't tumble my curls."]
[Footnote 6: "Cross buns and cracknels."]
[Footnote 7: Mignon's song: "Poor child, what have they done to thee?"]
[Footnote 8: The third person singular is used n addressing inferiors.
"Hat _Hei_ kein Pappiren."]
[Footnote 9: Muschuken, from Monsieur, is a kind of Mecklenburg
biscuit.]
[Footnote 10: Species of dog.]
[Footnote 11: "Meinswegens"--"for all I care."]
[Footnote 12: Herr has the meaning of Mr., Sir, gentleman and master.]
THE END.