How the Herr Amtshauptmann stood beside my Mother with an empty
bowl in his hand; what Fieka and Heinrich had come for; and how
Fritz Sahlmann lost his chance of glory.
This was the saddest day that I can remember in all my childhood. What
a scene it was in my mother's room!
My mother had, for some time past, seen clearly that things were going
on which should not be; but, though she had a very excitable mind and a
lively imagination, which brought everything in a strong light before
her eyes, pain and illness had accustomed her to restrain her feelings
and to bear with resignation whatever might come. But uncertainty at a
time like that was hard to bear, and what made it still harder was,
that it was impossible to procure certainty. When she heard my father's
raised voice in the hall, and the violent tone of the adjutant, and the
colonel's short, sharp commands, she guessed what was happening without
being able to understand what was said. She became alarmed; and not a
soul was near her, not a soul attended to her bell. Her helpless state,
and the bitter sense that she could be of no use, that she did not
stand there where she ought to stand,--at my father's side,--overcame
her; and when the Amtshauptmann came back into her room she had
fainted, and was lying as if dead in her armchair.
He had entered with the most consoling passage he could think of from
Marcus Aurelius on his lips; but, as soon as he saw the state my mother
was in, he forgot everything he had meant to say, and began to cry
out--"Why, what is the matter, my friend? What is the matter? What say
you, eh?"
The old man, who did not usually lose his presence of mind, was
altogether confused and bewildered, and had retained only an indistinct
feeling that something must be done; and when I rushed in, with the
tears streaming down my cheeks, he was standing before my mother with a
bowl in his hand with no water in it, and saying--"This is a very
strange thing!"
At last my screams brought the Frau Amtshauptmann and Mamsell
Westphalen to the rescue. I had thrown myself on my mother's neck, and
cried over and over again, "Mother, dearest mother, he will come back;
he told me to tell you he should soon be back again." At last, at last
her consciousness returned; and, if we had been anxious before, we were
miserable now.
To console is the easiest thing in the world for those who are
satisfied with offering the stereotyped phrases of politeness to one in
sorrow; but for anyone whose heart is overflowing with love, which he
longs to pour into another's sorrowing heart, and who at the same time
feels that all the love he can give is insufficient to awaken fresh
hopes in this poor heart, it is most difficult, and becomes indeed
impossible if he does not believe in the words of comfort which he
utters. Heaven be praised! This was not the case here. The most
faithful of friends stood by us, and the old Herr and his wife by
degrees succeeded in quieting my mother's grief; and when she was
recovered enough to understand his reasons, there was no lack of them,
for if there was anyone in the world who had reasons to give for
everything, it was the Amtshauptmann, and he did not spare them to-day.
Reasons were of little use to me; but, all the same, I was comforted
before my mother was. Mamsell Westphalen had taken me on her lap, and,
while the tears were rolling down my face, she gave me delightful
descriptions of the apples I should have, and this did its work. A
child's heart is soon consoled; the tree requires heavy rain, but a
drop of dew refreshes the blade of grass.
The first burst of grief was over, when Luth, the town-messenger, came
in, and told the Herr Amtshauptmann that Miller Voss's Fieka was
outside, and wished to speak a few words to him.
"My friend," said the old Herr, "she is a good girl, I know it for
certain; and she is no doubt anxious about her father. We may as well
have her here, I think, and see what she wants. What says Horace? '_Est
solamen miseris socios habuisse malorum_.' I will translate that to you
by-and-bye. Luth, go and fetch the girl."
Fieka came in. She was a slender little damsel, but her fresh round
cheeks were health itself, and though just now her eyes looked sad, yet
you could see that they would be able to laugh merrily enough at other
times. Her whole appearance showed that she was a resolute girl, who
would not be easily turned aside from her purpose; and her true simple
face plainly told that she would engage in no undertaking which she did
not feel to be right. She had tied a coloured handkerchief over her cap
to keep it safe from the rain, and looked so neat in her red and green
striped woollen petticoat as she stood there before the old Herr, that
he could not help turning to his wife and saying half aloud, "Eh,
Neiting, what say you?"
When Fieka had made her curtsey to the Amtshauptmann, she went round
towards the Frau Amtshauptmann and my mother and Mamsell Westphalen,
and made a curtsey to each of them, and shook hands with them,
according to the fashion of those good old times.
"Herr Amtshauptmann," said Fieka, "my father and the neighbours have
told me so much good of you that I have made bold to come to you in my
trouble."
"What have you got on your mind, then, my daughter?" asked the old Herr
kindly, and he laid his hand on her head. "What say you, eh?"
"My father is innocent," she replied, looking up in his face with
perfect trust.
"That he is innocent I know, my child," said he, and he nodded his
head.
"And so I've no fear but he'll be set free soon," continued Fieka.
"Hm? Yes. That's to say it would be no more than right. But, in these
days, might counts as right; and if it's difficult, in quiet times and
with the best intentions, to pick out the innocent from the guilty, it
is harder still in war-time, especially if the good intentions are
lacking."
"I am not at all afraid," said Fieka quickly, "he must be set free, and
that soon. But my father is an old man, something might happen to him,
and there would be nobody about him then; so I want to go and be near
him."
"My daughter," said the old Herr, shaking his head, "you are young, and
soldiers are rough hosts. It would be no comfort to your father to know
you were in their company."
"I am not going alone, Herr; my cousin Heinrich, Joe Voss's son, is
going with me; and we thought if you would give us some writing, as a
sort of pass, nothing would happen to us."
"A pass?" said the Amtshauptmann, shaking his head still more
seriously. "Much those fellows will heed a pass from a Stemhagen
Amtshauptmann! And yet, my friend," he added, turning to my mother, "if
I were to give her a letter to Colonel von Toll--what say you, eh? He
could not be the son of Renatus von Toll if he were to leave this girl
without protection. And you say," he added, turning to Fieka, "that
your cousin Heinrich is going with you?"
"Yes, Herr Amtshauptmann; he is waiting in the hall outside."
"Call him in to me."
Heinrich came in. He was a fine fellow, broad in the shoulders and
narrow across the hips, with blue eyes and light hair; one of those men
whom you may see any day in harvest from six o'clock in the morning
till nine o'clock in the evening handling the scythe as lightly as if
it were a feather.
"I hear, my son," said the old Herr, "that you wish to go with Fieka?"
"Yes, Herr Amtshauptmann."
"And you will protect her, and will not leave her?"
"Yes, Herr Amtshauptmann; and I have got my horse and waggon here, and
I thought if the French had nothing against it, the prisoners might
drive along with Fieka, and I could walk by the side."
"Herr Amtshauptmann!" cried my mother. "Help him to do what he
proposes; perhaps it will be the only opportunity I shall have of
sending anything to my husband. He was carried off just as he was--and
in this weather too!"
"True, true, my friend. Yes, Fieka, I will give you a letter. And,
Neiting, the old Miller was also carried off unprovided for; get
something for him. My cloak, Mamsell Westphalen, and a nightcap, for I
know he wears one. And, my friend," and here he turned once more to my
mother, "anyone who is used to wearing a nightcap would very much miss
it if he hadn't one."
"Fritz," said the Frau Amtshauptmann to me, "run over to Baker Witte's
and see if his daughter would not like to send something to him."
Now began the packing. In a few minutes it was done; and, just as
everything was in the cart, Struewingken appeared, carrying an immense
basket of milk-rolls and sausages. Fieka had now taken her seat in the
waggon, and the Herr Amtshauptmann had finished his letter; as he gave
it to Fieka he called Heinrich aside, and said to him--"So you are Joe
Voss's son, who has been so long at law with the Miller?"
"Yes, Herr, but do not take it ill. My father was somewhat obstinate
and had set his heart upon it; but it's about that I came over here. I
have already spoken of it to the Miller and to Fieka, and if I have my
way it will all be settled soon."
"My son," said the Amtshauptmann, and shook him by the hand, "I will
tell you something;--you please me. But I will tell you something
else;--you have taken upon yourself to protect the Miller's Fieka. If
you let a hair of her head be touched, never dare to appear before my
eyes again." So saying he turned round, and went into my mother's room
again, and said to her--"A splendid girl that, my friend!"
"What did the Herr Amtshauptmann say to you?" asked Fieka after
Heinrich had seated himself, and they had set off.
"Oh, nothing particular," said Heinrich. "But you will catch cold," he
added wrapping her up in the old Herr's cloak, and then driving rapidly
down the street.
They had not gone far, when they were met by the Stemhagen folks who
had been following the French and the prisoners. Fritz Sahlmann, of
course, was foremost of all. What a picture he looked! Just as if he
had been working all day long in brick-maker's clay.
"The Burmeister has escaped," he shouted out to them down the street.
"The Burmeister has made off across the country on old Braesig's brown
mare. _I_ gave him the signal and off he went."
"What are you talking about, boy?" said the shoemaker's wife, who was
looking out over her half door watching for her husband.
"Yes, neighbour," said Troepner the captain of the fire-brigade who now
approached; "the Burmeister's off, but they have given your husband
something to remember. You had better make him a poultice of saffron
and rye-flour, and lay it between his shoulders where the Frenchman
tickled him with the butt of his musket."
The news ran through the town like wildfire: "The Burmeister has got
out of the hands of the French on Braesig's brown mare;" and Luth burst
into my mother's room looking as if Easter and Whitsuntide had fallen
on the same day, and he had been ordered to have the pleasure that the
Stemhagen folk allowed themselves at these seasons all at once.
"Frau Burmeister," he cried, "don't be alarmed--Good news, Herr
Amtshauptmann;--good news Frau Amtshauptmann! Our Herr Burmeister has
escaped from the French--"
Heavens! what an uproar followed. My mother trembled from head to foot,
the Herr Amtshauptmann forgot his age and position, and seized Luth by
the collar and shook him with all his might. "Luth, man, recollect
yourself! We are not in a mood for jesting here."
The Frau Amtshauptmann went up anxiously to my mother. Mamsell
Westphalen sat upright and stiffly in her chair and said--"If you will
let me say so, Herr Amtshauptmann, he is a clown."
"Herr Amtshauptmann, Herr Amtshauptmann," said Luth letting himself be
shaken; "you may believe me; Fritz Sahlmann saw it all and told me
about it."
"Fritz Sahlmann? My Fritz Sahlmann?" asked the old Herr, and let Luth
go.
"It looks like our Fritz Sahlmann, Herr Amtshauptmann," said Mamsell
Westphalen, quietly; "Fritz Sahlmann and truth are as far asunder as
the cuckoo and the Seven Stars."
"Where is the boy?" asked the Amtshauptmann.
"He is standing outside in the Hall," said Luth.
The old Herr strode with long steps to the door and called
out,--"Fritz, Fritz Sahlmann, come in here."
Fritz Sahlmann came. Two forces were struggling in his breast, the
desire to recount his valorous deeds and the fear of a sound rating on
account of his appearance; the one drew him forward and the other held
him back; and, at the same time perhaps, one pulled him to the left,
and the other to the right, for he came in at the door askew, with his
good side first. But he had reckoned without his host, for he had not
taken into account that coming in, in this way, his natural centre of
gravity, on which he had sat down in the mud, would at once catch the
eyes of the Frau Amtshauptmann and Mamsell Westphalen.
"Fritz Sahlmann," asked the old Herr, "what is the meaning of all
this?"
Fritz Sahlmann who had marched in with a sort of pride, now let his
head drop and looked down at his clothes:
"Oh, nothing, Herr Amtshauptmann. It's only a little mud."
"Heaven preserve us," cried the Frau Amtshauptmann; "what does the boy
look like? Who is ever to get him clean again?"
"Hanchen and Corlin must go all over him with the kitchen brooms," said
Mamsell Westphalen.
"Boy!" cried the Herr Amtshauptmann; "now tell me at once the pure
truth. Has the Burmeister escaped or not?"
"Yes, Herr Amtshauptmann," said Fritz, and looked up again; "he's
scuttled."
"That's a lie," burst out Mamsell Westphalen; "how can pure truth come
from an unclean vessel?"
"Proceed, Fritz," said the old Herr. And Fritz proceeded.
It often happens in this world that in seeking to carry off an undue
share of honour, people lose even that amount which they really
deserve. This happened to Fritz. When he came to his own share in the
story he made it so full of details, described the naturalness of his
fall so minutely, and made so much of everything, in order to place his
deeds in a conspicuous light, that he was still a long way from the
end, when Luth came in with the Captain of the Fire-Brigade; and
the Herr Amtshauptmann turned to the latter, and said in High
German--"Troepner, my man, what do you know of the matter." Troepner
felt, from this question being put in High German, that the Herr
Amtshauptmann looked upon him as an educated man, and so he determined
to behave like one, and replied in as good High German as he could
muster, "I saw it from beginning to end." He now began the whole story
over again, entirely left out Fritz Sahlmann's part and concluded with
these words: "And thereupon the Herr Burmeister sprang from behind the
Herr Rathsherr's cloak, dashed right round the _eclipage_, scrambled on
all fours up the bank to the hollow willow-tree, snatched the bridle
out of Fritz's hands by main force, swung himself into the saddle, and
no sooner did he feel the brown mare under him, than off he went like a
bolt straight towards the Pribbenow fir-wood."
"And the French?" asked the Amtshauptmann.
"Oh, Herr Amtshauptmann, they were half-frozen and, when they wanted to
fire, their guns would not go off because of the wet, and so they threw
themselves in their rage upon us, who were innocently looking on; and
gave Bank the shoemaker who lives in the Brandenburg road, a touch of
the butt-end of a musket between the shoulders, and then all of us made
off and ran down the hill."
"My friend," cried the Amtshauptmann, "this Burmeister of ours _is_ a
fellow; he is as quick as a gun."
But she for whom this speech was meant could not hear it. My mother lay
back in her chair, crying bitterly. At the talk of shooting she had
pressed the arm of the good Frau Amtshauptmann tightly, as if she were
holding to it as a safeguard against the giddiness that came over her;
but when at last it was certain that my father had got off safe and
sound, the tears started from her eyes, she covered her face, and gave
way to silent tears.
Were they tears of joy?--Who can tell?--Who can say where joy begins
and sorrow ends? They are so wonderfully interwoven in the human heart;
they are the warp and the woof, and happy is he who weaves them into a
firm web. The tear which is born of sorrow has as much its woof of hope
as the tear of joy its woof of fear. The past anguish about my father
and the fear as to his future wove themselves into my mother's joyful
feeling of thankfulness, and the tears which fell were not tears of
pure joy. Does any tear of pure joy ever fall on this earth?
It had become quite quiet; an angel flew through the room--; for a
short time only: angels do not stay long here below; I know it for I
stood with my head against our tall brown clock and cried and listened
to the ticking of the pendulum--a short time! I looked up: the old
Amtshauptmann was looking out of the uppermost window at the grey
heavens, my mother and the Frau Amtshauptmann were crying, Mamsell
Westphalen too; she had taken Fritz Sahlmann by the hand, and at the
last stroke of the angel's wing she said;--
"Go up to the Schloss, Fritz, and put on dry clothes; Hanchen can give
you your Sunday suit."
"I will be off to Guelzow, Herr Amtshauptmann," said Luth, "and Troepner
can go round to Pribbenow, and then we can't both miss the Herr
Burmeister."
The Amtshauptmann nodded his head, walked up to my mother, against
whose knees I had laid myself, and said,--"You and the boy, here, have
good cause to thank God to-day, my friend."