There was great joy in Joseph Nüssler's house. Godfrey was elected, he
was to have the living of Gürlitz. And to whom did he especially owe
his election? Why to our good simple-minded old friend Pomuchelskopp,
to be sure. His was the casting vote. Three divinity students preached
one after the other, each anxiously struggling so to interpret the Word
of God as to please the congregation, and prove himself most worthy of
obtaining the living. "Henny," said Pomuchelskopp, when Godfrey had
finished his sermon, and was passing his handkerchief over his white
face, "Henny," he said, "we'll choose this one, for he's the
stupidest."--"How can you be sure," asked his loving wife, "does one
fool always know another when he sees him?"--"My chuck," said
Pomuchelskopp, overlooking his affectionate wife's pleasantry, either
because he was so accustomed to her little jokes, or because Godfrey's
sermon had touched him, for Godfrey had preached on the text: "Forgive
your enemies."--"Henny, listen. The first of these students, the one
with the red face, is a son of old farmer Hamann, and custom is a great
thing, you'll see that fellow will work his own glebe; the second,
look, there he is, was seen examining the glebe by Gustavus, and was
heard asking the parsonage-coachman, who had charge of the barns, for
the roofs were in bad order. There'd be no hope with either of these;
the rector's son is the man for us."--"He who reckons wrong, reckons
without his host," said Henny drily.--"I hav'n't done so at any rate,"
answered Pomuchelskopp, "Mr. von Rambow and Nüssler have both given me
a written agreement not to take the land, the young man can't farm
himself, he's far too stupid for that, and the ground is too small to
make it worth while for any one to take it by itself. He must let it to
me, I am sure of getting it, and I can say to him: So much, and _not a
penny more!_"--So Godfrey was elected, for almost all the votes were
given to him, only one or two of the oldest labourers at Rexow gave
their votes to their master, Joseph Nüssler. But that was merely an
oversight and made no difference, for it was all in the family.
So, as I said before, there was great joy in Joseph Nüssler's house.
The twins basked in the sunshine of happiness, and made plans for the
future. Mina was quite as happy as Lina though she had not the same
cause. Still she could not help remembering that her father had said
one day when he came from the fields, that he found the sole management
of the farm too hard work, and only wished that Rudolph were far enough
on to be able to come and help him. Her mother had certainly answered
that he ought to be ashamed of himself for saying such a thing, for he
was still a young man, and he had replied that he would go on by
himself a little longer. But still Mina saw that her father would
really like to have Rudolph there, and so it would come to pass sooner
or later. Lina's things were all ready, the trousseau was prepared, and
Mrs. Nüssler's sitting-room looked more like a shop than anything else,
Spinning, knitting, sewing, embroidering, crocheting were going on
there, bales of goods were unwound and then wound up again. Every one
was busy, even young Joseph and young Bolster. Young Joseph had to help
to wind skeins of wool or cotton. He sat straight up with his pipe in
his mouth, and a skein of knitting cotton over his hands, his wife
stood in front of him, and wound it into a ball. Then he had a little
rest, but when Lina or Mina came in he had to begin again. And young
Bolster did not escape; if ever any one had cause to curse the marriage
it was he; he was continually being tramped on and tumbled over, and at
last came to the conclusion that it was better on the whole to take up
his abode in the yard than in the parlour until the trousseau was
finished.
"Well," said Mrs. Nüssler one evening as she laid her hands in her lap,
"the marriage may take place to-morrow, Bräsig, for all I care. I'm
ready."--"Then," answered Bräsig, "you needn't put off any longer, for
no doubt the methodist and Lina are ready when you are."--"Ah, Bräsig,
that shows how little you know about it. The chief thing is still
wanting. The government hasn't given its consent--what's the right word
for it--to the election as yet"--"Oh, yes, I know what you mean,
'confirmed his call,' as they say now-a-days; for my own part, I
consider 'vocated' a better word, we always used it long ago when
the late parson Behrens came to the parish, but it has gone out of
fashion now."--At this moment Christian, the coachman, came in, and
said: "Good-evening, Mistress, here are the newspapers."--"Wer'n't
there any letters at the post-office?" asked Mrs. Nüssler.--"Yes,"
said Christian, "there was one letter."--"Why didn't you bring
it?"--"_Nay!_" said Christian scornfully, as if to show that that was
too great a piece of folly for him to have been guilty of, "they
asked such a ransom for it, that I hadn't enough, money to pay for
it."--"How much was it?"--"One pound four! What do you say to that?
They said there was a post-mark, or a post-stamp, or something of
that kind on it. It came in the mail-cart, and is addressed to
the young gentleman, I mean our Miss Lina's bridegroom."--"Good
gracious, Christian! What a dear letter! Who can it be from, I
wonder?"--"I know," said Christian, "but I don't intend to tell,"
and he glanced at Bräsig.--"You may speak out before Mr. Bräsig," said
his mistress.--"Very well," answered Christian. "It was from a woman,
but I've forgotten her name."--"Mercy!" cried Mrs. Nüssler. "From a
woman! To my future son-in-law! And costing one pound four!"--"A
common occurrence!" said Bräsig. "A common occurrence, even amongst
methodists!"--"So it is!" said Christian, preparing to leave the
room.--"Christian," and Mrs. Nüssler rose, "you must take the rye
to Rahnstädt tomorrow, ask particularly what name it is at the
post-office, and I'll give you the money, for I must have the
letter."--"Very well, mistress," said Christian, going away, "if you
want it, you shall have it."--"Bräsig," exclaimed Mrs. Nüssler,
throwing herself back into her wicker-chair, and making it groan
loudly, "what has my son-in-law to do with women's letters?"--"I
don't know," said Bräsig. "I hav'n't the slightest idea, and I never
trouble my head about secrets. Wait till the end, and you're sure to
know."--"But," said Mrs. Nüssler, "Godfrey's such a quiet sort of
fellow."--"Methodists ar'n't to be trusted," replied Bräsig, "never put
faith in a Jesuit!"--"Bräsig," cried Mrs. Nüssler, springing to her
feet so suddenly that her old chair gave a loud creak, "if there's any
secret, I'll take my child back. If Rudolph had got into a scrape, I'd
have forgiven him, for he's a thoughtless lad, but not hypocritical.
But Godfrey! No. Not as long as I live. A man who pretends to be so
much better than his neighbours, and then--no, let him keep away from
me and mine. I'll have nothing to do with a man of that kind."
When Godfrey appeared at the supper-table, his future mother-in-law
looked at him from head to foot, and from side to side, as if he had
been trying to cheat her into taking false coin for true. And when
Godfrey begged Lina to bring a glass of fresh water to him in his room
after supper, Mrs. Nüssler interposed and said, that Lina had something
else to do, so he turned to Mary, the parlour-maid, and asked her to do
it, but Mrs. Nüssler told him he had better go to the pump for it
himself, it was no further for him to go than for Mary. Thus she drew a
magic circle round him, over which no woman must venture.
The next day when they were all at dinner, the coachman came to the
door, and signing to Mrs. Nüssler, said: "Oh, if you please, mistress,
I want to speak to you for a moment."--Mrs. Nüssler at once signed to
Bräsig, and the two old friends went out into the porch with
Christian.--"Well?" asked Mrs. Nüssler.--"Here it is," said Christian,
pulling a large letter out of his pocket, "and I know the woman's name
too."--"Well?" asked Mrs. Nüssler again.--"Yes," whispered Christian in
his mistress' ear, "her Christian name is 'Minnie,' and her family name
is 'Stry.'"--"What? Mini--stry?" cried Mrs. Nüssler.--"Ha, ha, ha!"
laughed Bräsig, pulling the letter out of Mrs. Nüssler's hand. "That
comes of ignorant people meddling with outlandish words; this is the
vocatation from the ministry," and opening the parlour-door, he
shouted: "Hurrah! You old methodist you! The marriage is to be next
week."--And Mrs. Nüssler threw her arms round Godfrey's neck, kissed
him, and said: "Godfrey, dear Godfrey, I've done you great wrong; but
never mind, Godfrey, Lina shall bring you some water every evening, and
the marriage shall be whenever you like."--"Bless me!" said Godfrey.
"What is ....."--"Nay, Godfrey, I can't explain, it's too hard for me,
but I'll tell you when you've been married three years."
So the wedding took place, and I might tell how Mina and Lina had a
good cry together after the ceremony was over; how nice Godfrey looked
when Lina had cut his hair properly; how Mrs. Nüssler assured every one
who came near her that she was not bit tired, which meant that she was
completely worn out. But I'll tell nothing about the marriage that I
did not see myself, and there is one thing I can vouch for having seen
it, and that is, that at half-past three the two old friends, young
Joseph and young Bolster, lay down on the sofa together, and fell fast
asleep.
Hawermann was at the marriage, but was very quiet and sad; Louisa was
there also, her heart full of love for her little Lina, and she was
very quiet too, but quietly happy. Mrs. Behrens had refused the
invitation sent her, but just as all the company were giving three
cheers for the bride and bridegroom, the door opened, and Mrs. Behrens
came into the room in her widow's weeds. She threw her arms round
Lina's neck, and said: "I am glad that you are to have it, very very
glad; and I pray that you may be as happy as I was. You are now the
nearest," Then she kissed her and patted her on the shoulder, and after
that turned away and hastened out of the room without looking at any
one else. As soon as she was in the passage she called: "Hawermann,"
but she need not have done that for he was already by her side, and
after helping her into the carriage, he took his place beside her, and
so they drove back to Gürlitz.
They got out of the carriage at the entrance to the church-yard, and
walked together to the quiet green grave, there they stood hand in hand
silently gazing at it and at the flowers that were growing on it. As
they turned to go away little Mrs. Behrens said with a deep sigh: "I am
ready now, Hawermann." They got into the carriage again and drove to
Rahnstädt. "Louisa knows all about it," she said, "and will follow me
tomorrow with the things." They went together into the new house, and
little Mrs. Behrens kissed Hawermann, and thanked him for his kindness
to her in having made everything look so like the dear old parsonage.
She went to the window, and looking out, said: "Yes, it's very very
like; all is here except the grave."--They looked out of the window for
a long time in silence, at last Hawermann took her hand and said: "Mrs.
Behrens, I have a great favour to ask of you. I have given Mr. von
Rambow warning and am to leave him at Christmas. Will you let me have
the garret, and will you allow me to board with you?"--If it had not
been such a sad moment for them both' she would have asked a number of
questions, and would have talked the whole thing over, but as it was
she only said: "Your home is always wherever Louisa and I are. You are
the nearest to us both."
It is ever thus in the world; what brings joy to one, brings sorrow to
another, and marriage and death go side by side, although the
difference between them is greater than between summer and winter.
There are some people to be found with such beautiful dispositions,
that in spite of their loss being the other's gain, or of their having
gained by the other's loss, their love to each other forms a bridge
over the abyss which might have separated them, but which their
generous love has changed into a firm bond of union. And of this Mrs.
Behrens and Lina were a bright example. Each clung to the other with a
comprehending love and sympathy that never failed as long as they
lived.
And our old friend Godfrey did his part to strengthen the ties binding
Mrs. Behrens to her old home. In his first sermon also it must be
confessed that he thought less of himself than of the example his
predecessor had always showed, so that when Bräsig came out of church
he stroked Lina's cheek and kissed Mina, saying: "He is growing much
more sensible. Methodists are often quite reasonable mortals; but
they're the devil's own. I once knew a Methodist, I mean parson
Mehlsack, who was really a good sort of man, but he had given himself
so completely to the devil that he no longer preached about God; and as
for the parson over in the beautiful Cracow districts, he proved
padagraphically that there are _three hundred and thirty three_
separate devils rushing about the world, without counting the regular
devil and his grandmother. Now look here, Lina, this is the chief
discomfort for the like of us in such matters. Suppose that you, and
some of your friends seat yourselves round a bowl of punch in
Rahnstädt, and you finish that bowl, and then another, and another, and
a gentleman in a brown surtout seats himself beside you--the devil
always wears a brown surtout, it's part of the contract that he should
do so--and talks to you pleasantly the whole evening, and when you wake
next morning, you see the same gentleman standing before you, and he
says to you, says he: 'Good morning, my friend, you signed a paper for
me last night,' he then shows you his cloven foot, and if he's in a
good humour, he lets you have a sight of his tail, and flips you
playfully over the ears with it, and so you become his heritable
property. That's the way with _honest_ Methodists, and with the other's
it's even worse I can tell you."
So Godfrey and his wife took up their abode at the parsonage, and Mina
of course went to pay them a visit. It sometimes happened when Godfrey
came into the parlour in the dusk that he gave Mina a kiss by mistake,
but it did not matter, for it was all in the family. A short time after
the young couple went to their new home, Pomuchelskopp, his wife, Mally
and Sally went to return the clergyman's call, and to try to get the
lease of the glebe. Pomuchelskopp offered Godfrey half as much as Mr.
von Rambow had given for the land, and his wife declared that it wasn't
worth a penny more, for Joseph Nüssler had refused to take it. Godfrey
bowed, and was going to have said: "Yes," when Lina started up out of
her sofa corner, and said: "Wait a moment! I've got something to say to
that. We must ask the advice of some one who understands the matter,"
and she called out at the door: "Uncle Bräsig, please come here."--So
he came in dressed in a loose linen coat, and taking his stand right in
front of his old school-fellow who was wearing his blue coat and brass
buttons, asked: "What's the matter?"--Lina went up to him: "Uncle
Bräsig," she said, "_need_ the glebe be let. I should so like to farm
it myself."--"Then it shan't be let, my dear little Lina," he said,
stooping and kissing her, "I will farm it myself."--"I won't have any
small tenant," cried Pomuchelskopp.--"Don't be afraid, Samuel--a--don't
be afraid, Mr. Samuel, I am only going to be his reverence's
bailiff."--"Mr. Nüssler signed a paper giving me the land...."--"No,
showing what a fool you are," said Henny, thrusting her husband out of
the room.
"My dear parson," said uncle Bräsig as he and Godfrey were walking in
the garden, "you have not to thank me for having made this arrangement,
it was all Lina's doing. It is a marvel to me how positive these
innocent little creatures grow when once they're married. Well, perhaps
it's better to trust everything to them, they always know best. Most
probably you will wish to talk me out of my hatred of certain people,
for you no doubt preach from the Christian standpoint of holding out
your left cheek to the man who struck you on the right cheek, but
I tell you that there must be hatred; where there is no hatred there
can be no love, and I don't at all approve of the story of the
right and left cheeks. I confess that I can hate; I hate Samuel
Pomuchelskopp!--How?--What?--Why?--Wouldn't you hate him if he treated
you as he treats me?"--"My dear Sir, the wickedness of the principles
you have just ....." he was about to have vindicated his right to be a
clergyman by giving the old bailiff as severe a lecture, as he had done
on a former occasion about fishing, when fortunately Lina came up and
throwing her arms round her old friend's neck, exclaimed: "Uncle
Bräsig, dear uncle Bräsig, how are we ever to thank you for giving up
your quiet life for our sake."--"Don't distress yourself, Lina. Love is
as strong as hatred. Did you notice that I called Pomuchelskopp, Mr.
Samuel, although he was really christened Samivel, which is a much
grander name."--"No, no," interrupted Godfrey, "he must have been
christened Samuel."--"No, reverend Sir, 'Samuel' is a Jewish name,
and although he is really a Jew, that is, a white one, he was
christened _Samivel_, and his wife's name is Canary."--"Uncle Bräsig,"
laughed Lina, "what a funny way of pronouncing it. Her name is
Cornelia."--"It's quite possible, Lina, that she may call herself that
now, for she may well be ashamed of the ugliness of her real name, but
I know that I'm right. When the old parson at Bobzin died, and the
clerk was taking the register-books for the new clergyman to look at, I
saw amongst the entries: 'Mr. Samivel Pomuchelskopp to Miss Canary
Kläterpott,' so you see that you see she was a Kläterpott, and a Canary
too.--But that's enough of her, Lina, she has got nothing to do with
us, and you and I will do everything capitally together and will have a
happy union in farming matters. You must give me the small corner room
overlooking the yard, and the devil himself must take part against me,
if Godfrey isn't able to farm his own land after a year and a day.
Good-bye, for the present. I know of two good milch-cows which I shall
at once secure, then I'll get those two horses from old Prebberow, and
we'd better keep George, Mr. Behrens' former servant, for he's a
splendid dickshun'ry of the management of horses and cattle. Good-bye,"
and he went away, old heathen that he was, in his clinging to his
hatred.
Whoever maintains that he has a right to hate another man, must be
content to be hated in his turn, and no one was so hated on that day as
uncle Bräsig himself.
When the Pomuchelskopps were at home again, Henny began to stroke the
quiet father of the family and Mecklenburg law-giver the wrong way, and
stung him with her sharp words as though with thorns and nettles. She
continually taunted him in the words of her favourite proverb: "Ah,
yes, Kopp," she would say, "you're as wise as the Danish horse which
always came home three days before it began to rain!"--At last the much
enduring man could bear it no longer, he sprang to his feet,
exclaiming: "Mally, have I not always been a kind father to you?"--But
Mally was too deeply ingrossed in the Rostock paper to be able
to answer.--"Sally," he cried, "can I help the world being so
wicked?"--But Sally stitched and sewed the body of a little cupid in
her worsted work so diligently that she could only sigh and look as if
she were sorry her father was not like the cupid in her work that she
might run her needle into him after her mother's example. Gustavus then
came in clattering a slate against a board, as if he had been sent for
to play an accompaniment to the family drama.
But when things get to a certain pass they become unbearable! Human
nature cannot deny the argument of a stick, and our old friend was now
determined to show his rebellious family that he was master in his own
house; having thus asserted himself he rushed out of doors and left
them alone. He hastened into the garden, and up to the sundial, but he
found no comfort there. He had certainly showed his own flesh and blood
that he would not be bullied, but that did not make him happier, for
there before his very eyes lay the glebe, the beautiful glebe. And
beyond that was Pümpelhagen. Both of these were his by rights, for had
he not paid three hundred pounds for the glebe, and how much more to
Slus'uhr, to David and to that wretch Mr. von Rambow! He could not bear
the sight, and turning round, gazed up into the blue sky, and asked
himself if there was any justice on the face of the earth. At that
moment Phil came to him, and pulled him by the tail of his blue
coat--for in putting Henny down, he had for the time being put an end
to all order in the house--and told him that Mr. von Rambow was there,
and wanted to speak to him.
Mr. von Rambow? Ah, ha! He had some one now whom he could bully, he
would make him pay for all the discomfort he had suffered that morning
at the hands of his own family. Mr. von Rambow? Well! He was about to
have gone to him, when his visitor stood before him: "Good morning, Mr.
Pomuchelskopp. I hope I see you well--I came to hear what arrangements
you had made about the glebe."--Ah! The glebe! Wait, I mustn't let
him guess, and Pomuchelskopp looked slyly down to the point of his
nose without making any reply.--"Well," said Alick, "how is it
settled?"--But Pomuchelskopp made no answer, and continued to gaze down
his nose as if it were a mile long, and he had not nearly reached the
end of it yet.--"What's the matter with you, neighbour? I hope it's all
right."--"I hope so too," answered Muchel, stooping to pull up a weed,
"at least the three hundred pounds I lent you are all right?"--"Why?"
stammered Alick in amazement, "but what has that to do with it?"--Wait,
Alick. Do not be in such a hurry. Wait. He wants to plague you a
little. What must be, must be.--"Mr. von Rambow," said Muchel pulling
up another fine weed, and then turning to his visitor with a flushed
face, "Mr. von Rambow, you got the three hundred pounds, and _I_ was to
have had the glebe, but I hav'n't got it."--"Why, you were so sure of
it ..." began Alick.--"Not nearly so sure as you. You got the three
hundred pounds--didn't you now? You got the money I say--and I," here
he tapped his left foot impatiently on the ground and muttered the next
words in a low gruff tone that seemed to come from the lowest region of
his stomach, "and I, have been taken in!"--"But ...."--"You needn't say
'but' to me, I've heard enough 'buts' this morning. Let us talk of
bills instead," here he groped in his pocket, "Oh, Ah, I see I have
another coat on, my pocket-book isn't here. I've had one of your
bills for the last three weeks."--"But, Mr. Pomuchelskopp, pray--why
do you speak to me about it to-day? It isn't my fault that you didn't
get the lease of the glebe."--It was all of no use. He had better
have been quiet. Pomuchelskopp had heard too much that day of the
glebe, so he pretended not to hear Alick's last words, and said: "I am
a kind-hearted man, and am always willing to do what I can for my
friends. People say that I'm rich, but I am not rich enough to be able
to throw away money. There's time enough for that, But, Mr. von Rambow,
I must _see_, I must _see_ something. I must see to my business, and
when a man signs a bill, he must see ...."--"Oh, Mr. Pomuchelskopp,"
cried Alick in great anxiety, "I forgot all about it. Indeed ..... I
didn't remember."--"Oh," said Muchel. "You didn't remember? But a man
ought to remember such things, and ...." he suddenly stopped himself
before he had said too much, for his eye fell on Pümpelhagen--no--He
must take care--He must not shake the tree before the plums were ripe.
"And," he went on, "I have to thank that fellow Bräsig for my
disappointment. That's all the reward I get for the kindness I showed
the man when he was a lad. I lent him money to buy a watch. I gave him
trousers when his own were torn, and now? Ah! I know what it is, it's
all that sly rascal Hawermann's fault."
If you give the devil _one finger_, he seizes your _whole hand_, and
then he leads you where he wills, and if he desires it, you must fall
on your knees before him, and entreat him for mercy in your abject
misery and gnawing pain. So it was with Alick. He was obliged to agree
with Pomuchelskopp, for he had now to row in the same boat with him,
and so he joined him in his accusations of Bräsig and Hawermann. Why?
Because Pomuchelskopp held his bills and had therefore the whip hand of
him. The light-hearted, gallant young officer of a few years back, was
gone, and in his stead was a broken spirited man who tried by telling
all the scandalous stories he had heard of the two old bailiffs to
propitiate the Moloch who stood beside him in a blue coat and brass
buttons. He had betrayed his best friend. He had spoken falsely. As he
thought of what he had done while he was riding home, he felt a bitter
contempt of himself rising up in his heart, and he rode quickly in
order to leave the house where he had behaved so basely as far behind
him as possible.
He rode home, and when he came to his fields where Hawermann was at
work, he saw the old bailiff standing in the full heat of the sun
beside the sowing machine, getting everything in order. When he saw
that, he felt as if coals of fire were burning his head. When he had
gone a little further he met a man in a linen coat, and saw that it was
uncle Bräsig. Bräsig was standing by the wall and shouting across the
field: "Good day, Charles. Here I am at the old work, I'm going to buy
some cows, and everything is getting into good order. We're going to
farm ourselves, and Samuel Pomuchelskopp is out in his reckoning." At
that moment he heard Alick's horse, and turned round to see who was
there. The remorse Alick felt for what he had done made him speak more
kindly than usual: "How d'ye do, Mr. Bräsig. You're always on your
legs?"--"Why not, Mr. von Rambow? They do me good service in spite of
gout now and then, and as I've undertaken to manage farming matters for
the young people at the parsonage, I am on my way to Gülzow, to get a
couple of milch-cows from farmer Pagel for the parson."--"You know all
about such things of course, Mr. Bräsig," said Alick wishing to be
civil.--"Yes, thank God, I know pretty well. We farmers have only to
give a glance at a field and we can see whether it has been properly
treated. Look, I was over there yesterday," pointing to the paddocks,
"I went past the fence, and I saw that the mare and foal were quite
starved, and no wonder. Some one steals the oats out of their manger
and if you want to put a stop to that, you'll have to have a lock put
on it."--Alick looked at him; was it not pure love of aggravation that
made him say that? Naturally! He gave his horse a touch of the spur:
"Good-bye," he said and rode away.--Bräsig looked after him: "If he's
too great a fool to take the hint, he needn't do it. I meant him well.
It seems to me as if the young nobleman does not want God's .... nay, I
oughtn't to say that. He'll come to his senses at last, but he'll have
much to suffer first. Charles," he shouted across the field, "he has
given me another hint to mind my own business!" Then he went away to
buy the cows.