Braesig arrived in good time next morning to go to Puempelhagen
with Hawermann. Mrs. Nuessler was sitting in the porch paying the
farm-servants, and Joseph was sitting beside her smoking while she
worked.--Neither of the old people had come down yet, for the
grandmother had said to her daughter-in-law, she, at least, could not
join them in the parlour, for she had nothing to put on her head; and
the grandfather had said, they could all be quite happy without
him.--"That's really kind of them," said Braesig. "There's no fear of
our dinner being spoilt now by their bad temper, for, Mrs. Nuessler,
I'm going to spend the day with Charles.--Come, Charles, we must be
off.--Goodbye little round-heads."
When they were out in the yard Braesig stood still, and said: "Look,
Charles, did you ever see anything more like the desert of S'ara? One
heap of manure here and another there! And look, that's the drain old
Joseph cut from the farm-yard to the village horse-pond. And as for the
roofs," he continued, "they have enough straw to make new ones, but the
old people think money expended on thatching sheer waste. I come here
often, and for two reasons; firstly because of my stomach, and secondly
because of my heart. I've always found that well cooked food is not
only pleasant to the taste, but also produces a wholesome exhilaration
when followed by one of the little rages I generally get into here. And
I come here for the sake of your sister and the little round-heads. I
know that I am of use to her, for young Joseph just rolls on smoothly
like the wheel of the coach that runs every winter from here to
Rostock. How I should like to have him as leader in a three horse team,
harnessed into a farm cart, and then drive him with my whip!"--"Ah!"
said Hawermann as they came to a field, "they've got very good wheat
here."--"Yes, it's pretty fair, but what do you think they were going
to have had there instead?--Rye!--And for what reason? Simply because
old Joseph had sown rye in that field every year for twenty one
years!"--"Does their farm extend to the other side of the hill?"--"No,
Charles, it isn't quite such a fat morsel as all that, like bacon fried
in butter and eaten with a spoon! No, no, the wheat on the top of the
hill is mine."--"Ah, well, it's odd how soon one forgets.--Then your
land comes down as far as this?"--"Yes, Charles; Warnitz is a long
narrow estate, it extends from here on the one side as far as
Haunerwiem on the other. Now stand still for a moment, I can show you
the whole lie of the country from this point. Where we are standing
belongs to your brother-in-law, his land reaches from my wheat-field up
there to the right, as far as that small clump of fir-trees to the
left. You see, Rexow is quite a small farm, there are only a few more
acres belonging to it on the other side of the village. To the right up
there is Warnitz; and in front of us, where the fallow ground begins,
is Puempelhagen; and down there to the left, behind the little clump of
firs, is Guerlitz."--"Then Warnitz is the largest?"--"No, Charles,
you've mistaken me there. Puempelhagen is the best estate in the
neighbourhood, the wheat-land there produces forty-two loads, and that
is eight more than Warnitz can show. It would be a blessing if all the
other places were like it. The _Counsellor_ is a good man, and
understands farming, but you see his profession obliges him to live in
Schwerin, so he can't attend to Puempelhagen. He has had a good many
bailiffs of one kind or another. He came into the estate when
everything was very dear, and there are a considerable number of
apothecaries[5] on it, so that he must often feel in want of money, and
all the more so that his wife is extravagant, and likes to live in a
constant whirl of gaiety. He is a worthy man and kind to his people,
and although the von Rambows are of very old family--my master, the
Count, often asks him to dinner, and he will not admit any but members
of the nobility to the honour of his acquaintance--he goes about quite
_doucimang_, and makes no fuss about his position."
Hawermann listened attentively to all that was said, for if he
succeeded in getting the place of bailiff, these things would all be of
importance to him, but his thoughts soon returned to the subject of his
greatest present anxiety.--"Braesig," he said, "who is the best person
to take charge of my little girl?"--"I can't think of anyone. I'm
afraid that we must take her to the town to Kurz. Mrs. Kurz is an
excellent woman, and he, well he is a good hand at a bargain like all
tradesmen.--Only think, he sold me a pair of trousers last year.--I
wanted them for Sundays--they were a sort of chocolate colour:
well listen: the first morning I put them on, I went through the
clover-field, and when I came out of it, my trousers were as red as
lobsters, as high as the knee--bright scarlet I assure you. And then he
sent me some kuemmel, it was Prussian made, wretched sweet stuff, and
very bad. I returned it, and told him a bit of my mind. But he won't
take the trousers back, and tells me he never wore them. Does the
fellow imagine that _I_ will wear red trousers?--Look, Charles, that's
Guerlitz down there to the left."--"And that, I suppose, is Guerlitz
church-steeple?" asked Hawermann.--"Yes!" said Braesig, raising his
eye-brows till they were hidden by the brim of his hat--he always wore
a hat on Sunday--and opening his mouth as wide as he could, he stared
at Hawermann as if he wanted to look him through and through.
"Charles," he exclaimed, "you spoke of Guerlitz church-steeple, and as
sure as your nose is in the middle of your face the parson at Guerlitz
must take your child,"--"Parson Behrens?" asked Hawermann.--"Yes, the
same Parson Behrens who taught you and me at old Knirkstaedt."--"Ah,
Braesig, I was just wishing last night that such a thing were
possible."--"Possible? He must do it. It would be the best thing in the
world for him to have a little child toddling about his knees, and
growing up under his care, for he has no children of his own, has let
all the glebe land, and has nothing whatever to do but to read his
books and study, till any other man would see green and yellow specks
dancing before his eyes even with looking at him from a distance. It
would be a capital thing for him, and Mrs. Behrens is so fond of
children that the little ones in the village cling to her skirts
whenever she goes there. She is also a most excellent worthy woman, and
so cheerful that she and your sister get on capitally together."--
"If it could only be," cried Hawermann. "What do we not both owe that
man Zachariah, don't you remember that when he was assistant to the
clergyman at Knirkstaedt, he held an evening class during the winter,
and taught reading and writing, and how kind he always was to us stupid
boys?"--"Yes, Charles, and how Samuel Pomuchelskopp used to get behind
the stove and snore till he nearly took the roof off, while we were
learning the three R's. Don't you remember when we got to the rule of
three in our sums, and tried to get the fourth unknown quantity? Ah
yes, in quickness I had the best of it, but in correctness, you had.
You got on better than I did in o'thography, but in _style_, in writing
letters, and in High German, I was before you. And in these points I'm
much improved since then, for I've made them my study, and of course
every one has his own _speshialitee_. Whenever I see the parson I feel
bound to thank him for having educated me so well, but he always laughs
and says he owes me far more for letting his glebe at such a good rent
for him. He is on very friendly terms with me, and if you settle down
here, I'll take you to call and then you'll see it for yourself."
Meanwhile they had reached Puempelhagen, and Braesig took Hawermann quite
under his protection as they crossed the court-yard, and addressing the
old butler, asked if his master was at home and able to see them.--He
would announce the gentlemen, was the servant's reply, and say that Mr.
Farm-bailiff Braesig was there.--"Yes," said Braesig.--"You see, Charles,
that he knows me, and the _Counsellor_ knows me also--and--did you
notice?--announce! That's what the nobility always have done when any
one calls on them, My lord the Count has three servants to announce his
visitors; that is to say, one servant announces to another who it is
that has called, and the valet tells his lordship. Sometimes queer
mistakes are made, as with the huntsman the other day. The first
footman announced to the second: 'The chief huntsman,' and the second
added the word 'master,' and the third announced the arrival of a
'grandmaster of the huntsmen.' So the Count came forward very cordially
to receive the strange gentleman who had come to see him, and--he found
no one but old Tibaeul the rat-catcher."
The butler now returned and showed the two friends into a good-sized
room, tastefully, but not luxuriously furnished, and in the centre of
the room was a large table covered with papers and accounts. A tall
thin man was standing beside the table when they entered; he was a
thoughtful-looking, gentle-mannered man, and the same simplicity was
observable in his dress as in the furniture of his room. He appeared to
be about fifty-two or three, and his hair was of an iron grey colour;
he was perhaps shortsighted, for, as he went forward to receive his
visitors, he picked up an eye-glass that was lying on the table, but
without using it: "Ah, Mr. Braesig," he said quietly, "what can I do for
you?"--Uncle Braesig now involved himself in such a labyrinth of words
in his desire to speak grandly as befitted his company, that he would
never have extricated himself if the squire had not come to the rescue.
Looking more attentively at Hawermann, he said: "You want....? but," he
interrupted himself, "I ought to know you.--Wait a moment. Were you
not serving your apprenticeship twelve years ago on my brother's
estate?"--"Yes, Sir, and my name is Hawermann."--"Of course it is. And
to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you here?"--"I heard that you
were looking out for a farm-bailiff, and as I was in want of just such
a place"--"But I thought you had a farm in Pomerania?" interrupted the
squire.--Now was the time for Braesig to speak if he was going to say
anything of importance, so he exclaimed: "It's quite true, Mr.
Counsellor von Rambow that he had one, _had_ it, but has it no longer,
and it's no use crying over spilt milk. Like many other farmers he met
with inverses, and the hardness and wickedness of his landlord ruined
him.--What do you think of that, Sir?"
At this moment there was a loud shout of laughter behind Braesig's back,
and when he turned round to see who it was he found himself face to
face with a boy of ten or twelve years old. Mr. von Rambow also smiled,
but fortunately it never occurred to Braesig that their amusement could
mean anything but satisfaction with a well delivered speech, so he went
on seriously: "And then he came a regular cropper."--"I'm very sorry to
hear it," said Mr. von Rambow. "Yes," he continued with a sigh, "these
are very hard times for farmers, I only hope they'll change soon. But
now to business--Alick, just run upstairs and see if breakfast is
ready. It is quite true that I am looking out for a new bailiff, as I
have been obliged to part with the last man, because of--well, his
carelessness in keeping accounts--but," said he, as his son opened the
door and announced that breakfast was ready, "you hav'n't had breakfast
yet, we can finish our talk while we eat it." He went to the door, and
standing there signed to his guests to precede him.--"Charles,"
whispered Braesig, "didn't I tell you? Quite like one of ourselves?" But
when Hawermann quietly obeyed the squire's sign and went out first, he
raised his eyebrows up to his hair, and stretched out his hand as
though to pull his friend back by his coat-tails. Then sticking out one
of his short legs and making a low bow, he said, "Pardon me--I couldn't
think of it--The _Counsellor_ always has the _paw_."--His way of bowing
was no mere form, for as he had a long body and short legs it was both
deep and reverential.
Mr. von Rambow went on first to escape his guest's civilities, and
Braesig brought up the rear. The whole business was talked over in all
its bearings during breakfast; Hawermann got the place of bailiff with
a good salary to be raised in five or six years, and only one condition
was made, and that was that he should enter on his duties at once. The
new bailiff promised to do so, and the following day was fixed for
taking stock of everything in and about the farm, so that both he and
his employer might know how matters stood before the squire had to
leave Puempelhagen. Then Braesig told the "sad life-story" of the old
thorough-bred, which had come down to being odd horse about the farm,
and which he "had had the honour of knowing from its birth," and told
how it "had spavin, grease and a variety of other ailments, and so had
been reduced to dragging a cart for its sins."--After that he and
Hawermann took leave of Mr. von Rambow.
"Braesig," said Hawermann, "a great load has been taken off my heart.
Thank God, I shall soon be at work again, and that will help me to
bear my sorrow.--Now for Guerlitz--Ah, if we are only as fortunate
there."--"Yes, Charles, you may well say you are fortunate, for you are
certainly wanting in the knowledge of life and fine tact that are
necessary for any one to possess who has to deal with the nobility. How
_could_ you, how _could_ you go out of the room before the
_Counsellor_?"--"I only did as he desired me, Braesig, and I was his
guest, not his servant then. I wouldn't do so now, and believe me,
he'll never ask me to do it again."--"Well, Charles, let me manage the
whole business for you at the parsonage. I'll do it with the greatest
_finesse_."--"Certainly Braesig, it will be very kind of you to do it
for me; if it were not for my dear little girl, I should never have the
courage to ask such a favour. If you will take the task off my
shoulders, I shall look upon it as the act of a true friend." When they
passed Guerlitz church they heard from the singing that service was
still going on, so they determined to wait in the parsonage till it was
over, but on entering the sitting-room, a round active little woman of
about forty years old came forward to receive them. Everything about
her was round, arms and fingers, head, cheeks and lips; and her round
eyes twinkled so merrily in her round smiling face that one would at
once jump to the conclusion that she had never known sorrow, and her
every action was so cheery and full of life that one could easily see
that she had a warm heart in her breast. "How d'ye do, Mr. Braesig, sit
down, sit down. My pastor is still in church, but he would scold me if
I allowed you to go away.--Sit down, Sir--who are you?--I should have
liked to have gone to church to-day, but only think, the clergyman's
seat broke down last Sunday; lots of people go to it, you see, and one
can't say 'no,' and old Pruesshawer, the carpenter, who was to have
mended it this week, is down with a fever."--Her words poured out
smoothly like polished billiard-balls rolled by a happy child over the
green cloth.
Braesig now introduced Hawermann as Mrs. Nuessler's brother. "And so you
are her brother Charles. _Do_ sit down, my pastor will be delighted to
see you.--Whenever Mrs. Nuessler comes here she tells us something about
you, and always in your praise--Mr. Braesig can vouch for that. Good
gracious, Braesig, what have _you_ got to do with my hymn-book? Just put
it down, will you. _You_ never read such things, you are nothing but an
old heathen. These are hymns for the dying, and what are hymns for the
dying to you? _You_ are going to live for ever. You're not a whit
better than the wandering Jew!--One has to think of death sometimes,
and as our seat is broken, and the old carpenter has a fever, I have
been reading some meditations for the dying."--While saying this she
quickly picked up her books and put them away, carefully going through
the unnecessary ceremony of dusting a spotless shelf before laying them
down on it.--Suddenly she went to the door leading to the kitchen, and
stood there listening; then exclaiming: "I was sure I heard it. The
soup's boiling over," hastened from the room.--"Well, Charles--wasn't I
right? Isn't she a cheery, wholesome--natured woman?--I'll go and
arrange it all for you," and he followed Mrs. Behrens to the kitchen.
Hawermann looked, round the room, and admired the cleanly, comfortable,
home-like, and peaceful look of everything around him. Over the sofa
was a picture of our Saviour, and encircling it, above and below, were
portraits of Mr. and Mrs. Behrens' relations, some coloured, some
black, some large, and some small. In the picture of our Lord, His
hands were raised in blessing, so Mrs. Behrens had hung the portraits
of her relatives beneath it that they might have the best of the
blessing, for she always regarded herself as the "nearest." She had
hung her own portrait, taken when she was a girl, and that of her
husband in the least prominent place over against the window, but God's
sun, which shone through the white window-curtains, and gilded the
other pictures, lighted up these two first of all. There was a small
book-case containing volumes of sacred and profane literature all mixed
up together, but they looked very well indeed, for they were arranged
more in accordance with the similarity of their bindings, than with
that of their contents. Let no one imagine that Mrs. Behrens did not
care for reading really good standard works, because she spoke the
Provincial German of her neighbourhood. Whoever took the trouble to
open one of the books, which had a mark in it, would see that she was
quite able to appreciate good writing, and her cookery-book showed that
she studied her own subjects as thoroughly as her husband did his, for
the book was quite full of the notes and emendations she had written at
the sides of the pages in the same way as Mr. Behrens made notes in his
books. As for her husband's favourite dishes she "knew them," she said,
"by heart, and had not to put in a mark to show where they were to be
found."
And it was in this quiet home that Hawermann's little daughter was to
spend her childhood, if God let him have his wish. The raised hands in
the Saviour's picture would seem to bless his little girl, and the
sunlight would shine upon her through these windows, and in those books
she would read what great and good men had written, and by their help
would gradually waken from childish dreams into the life and thoughts
of womanhood.--
As he was sitting there full of alternating hopes and fears, Mrs.
Behrens came back, her eyes red with weeping: "Don't say another word,
Mr. Hawermann, don't say another word. Braesig has told me all, and
though Braesig is a heathen, he is a good man, and a true friend to you
and yours. And my pastor thinks the same as I do, I know that, for we
have always been of one mind about everything. My goodness, what
hard-hearted creatures the old Nuesslers are," she added, tapping her
foot impatiently on the floor.--"The old woman," said Braesig, "is a
perfect harpy."--"You're right, Braesig, that's just what she is. My
pastor must try to touch the conscience of the two old people; I don't
mean about the little girl, she will come here and live with us, or I
know nothing of my pastor."--
Whilst Hawermann was expressing his deep gratitude to Mrs. Behrens her
husband came in sight. She always talked of him as "_her_" pastor,
because he belonged to her soul and body, and "_pastor_" because of his
personal and official dignity. He had nothing on his head, for those
high soft caps that our good protestant clergy now wear in common with
the Russian popes were not the fashion at that time, in the country at
least, and instead of wide bands, resembling the white porcelain plate
on which the daughter of Herodias received the head of John the Baptist
from her stepfather, he wore little narrow bands, which his dear wife
Regina had sewed, starched and ironed for him in all Christian
humility, and these little bits of lawn she rightly held to be the true
insignia of his office, and not the gown, which was fastened to his
collar with a small square piece of board. "For, my dear Mrs. Nuessler,"
she said, "the clerk has a gown exactly the same as that, but he
dar'n't wear bands, and when I see my pastor in the pulpit with these
signs of his office on, and watch them rising and falling as he speaks,
I sometimes think that they look like angels' wings upon which one
might go straight away up to heaven, except that the angels wear their
wings behind, and my pastor's are in front."
The parson was not an angel by any means, and was the last man in the
world to think himself one, but still his conduct was so upright, and
his face so expressive of love and good-will, that anyone could see in
a moment that he was a good man, and that his was a serious, thoughtful
mode of life, and yet--when his wife had taken off his gown and
bands--there was a bright sparkle in his eye that showed he did not at
all disdain innocent mirth. He was a man who could give good counsel in
worldly matters as well as in spiritual, and he was always ready to
stretch out a helping hand to those in need of it.
He recognised Hawermann the moment he saw him, and welcomed him
heartily: "How d'ye do, dear old friend, what an age it is since I saw
you last. How are you getting on?--Good morning, Mr. Braesig."--Just as
Braesig was about to explain the reason of his and Hawermann's visit,
Mrs. Behrens, who had begun to take off her husband's clerical
garments, called out: "Don't speak, Mr. Hawermann,--Braesig be quiet,
leave it all to me.--I'll tell you all about it," she continued,
turning to her husband, "for the story is a sad one--yes, Mr.
Hawermann, terribly sad--and so it will be better for me to speak.
Come," and she carried her pastor off to his study, saying in apology
for doing so as she left the room: "I am the nearest to him, you know."
When Mr. Behrens returned to the parlour with his wife, he went
straight up to Hawermann, and taking his hand, said: "Yes, dear
Hawermann, yes, we'll do it. We'll do all that lies in our power with
very great pleasure. We have had no experience in the management of
children, but we will learn.--Won't we, Regina?" He spoke lightly, for
he saw how deeply Hawermann felt his kindness, and therefore wished to
set him at ease.--"Reverend Sir," he exclaimed at last, "you did much
for me in the old days, but this ....."--Little Mrs. Behrens seized her
duster, her unfailing recourse in great joy or sorrow, and rubbed now
this, and now that article of furniture vigorously, indeed there is no
saying whether she might not have dried Hawermann's tears with it, had
he not turned away.--She then went to the door and called to Frederika:
"Here, Rika, just run down to the weaver's wife, and ask her to send me
her cradle, for," she added, addressing Braesig, "she doesn't require
it."--And Braesig answered gravely: "But Mrs. Behrens, the child isn't
quite a baby."--So the clergyman's wife went to the door again, and
called to the servant: "Rika, Rika, not the cradle. Ask her to lend
me a crib instead, and then go to the parish-clerk's daughter, and
see if she can come this afternoon--Good gracious! I forgot it was
Sunday!--But if thine ass falls into a pit, and so on--yes, ask her if
she will come and help me to stuff a couple of little matrasses.--It
isn't a bit heathenish of me to do this, Braesig, for it's a work of
necessity, as much so as when you have to save the Count's wheat on a
Sunday afternoon.--And, my dear Mr. Hawermann, the little girl must
come to us this very day, for Frank," turning to her husband, "the old
Nuesslers will grudge the child her food, and Braesig, bread that is
grudged ....." she stopped for breath, and Braesig put in: "Yes, Mrs.
Behrens, bread that is grudged maketh fat, but the devil take that kind
of fatness!"--"You old heathen! How _dare_ you swear so in a Christian
parsonage," cried Mrs. Behrens. "But the short and the long of it is
that the child must come here to-day."--"Yes, Mrs. Behrens," said
Hawermann, "I'll bring her to you this afternoon. My poor sister will
be sorry; but it's better for her and her household peace that it
should be so, and for my little girl ....." He then thanked the
clergyman and his wife gratefully and heartily, and when he had said
good-bye, and he and Braesig were out of doors, he drew a long breath of
relief, and said: "Everything looked dark to me this morning, but now
the sun has begun to shine again, and though I have a disagreeable bit
of business before me, it is a happy day,"--"What is it that you have
to do?" asked Braesig.--"I must go to Rahnstaedt to see old Moses. He has
held a bill of mine for seventy-five pounds for the last eighteen
months. He took no part in my bankruptcy, and I want to arrange matters
with him."--"Yes, Charles, you ought to make everything straight with
him as soon as you can, for old Moses is by no means the worst of his
kind.--Now then, let's lay out our plan of operations for to-day. We
must return to Rexow at once, dine there, and after dinner young Joseph
must get the carriage ready for you to take your little girl to
Guerlitz; from Guerlitz you should drive on to Rahnstaedt, and then in the
evening come over to Warnitz and spend the night with me, and early
next morning you can be at Puempelhagen with the _Counsellor_, who
expects to see you in good time."--"That will do very well," said
Hawermann.
After dinner Braesig asked young Joseph, if he would allow the
carriage to be got ready.--"Of course," cried Mrs. Nuessler.--"Yes, of
course," said young Joseph, who immediately went out and ordered it
himself.--"Charles," said his sister, "my dear brother, how willingly,
how _very_ willingly .... But you know why I can't. Braesig will have
told you.--Oh me! to have peace in the house. Don't imagine for one
moment that Joseph and I are not of one mind, that he wouldn't do as
much as I; but you see he doesn't understand how to manage it, and his
words don't come easily to him. I'll always keep an eye on your child
as if she were my own, although that won't be necessary at the
parsonage."
The carriage drove up to the door.--"Why, hang it, young Joseph,"
cried Braesig, "you've got out your state eq'ipage, the old yellow
coach!"--"Yes, Sir," said Christian, who was seated on the box, "and I
only hope we'll get safe home with the old thing, for it's rather
shaky, and the wheels are so loose that they rattle as much as if one
was riddling gravel through a sieve."--"Christian," said Braesig, "you
must first of all drive through the village pond, and then through the
brook at Guerlitz, and lastly, into the pig's pond at Rahnstaedt, that
the wheels may draw properly."--"And then I'll be a real sailor," said
Christian.
When Hawermann had taken leave of his friends, and had put his little
girl in the carriage, young Joseph hastily forced his way through the
group standing about the door; his wife exclaimed: "What's the
matter?"--"There," he said, thrusting a pound of twist into little
Louisa's hand--that was the only kind of tobacco he ever smoked--but on
looking closer, Hawermann saw that it was a great lump of sausage which
young Joseph had wrapped in tobacco-paper, having nothing else at hand
in which to put it.
Christian drove through the pond and brook as he had been desired. The
child was left at Guerlitz, and there is no need to tell how she was
kissed and petted and made to feel at home with the kind people who had
taken charge of her.--Hawermann drove on to Rahnstaedt to see Moses.
Moses was a man of upwards of fifty. He had large expressive eyes, and
thick black eye-brows, but his hair was very white. His drooping
eye-lids and long dark lashes gave him a look of gentleness; he was of
the average height, and his figure was comfortably rounded; his left
shoulder was a little higher than his right, but that was caused by his
way of standing. Whenever he stood up he used to put his left hand in
his coat-pocket, and catch firm hold of the top of his trousers lest
they should slip down, for he only wore them braced up at the right
side. When his wife begged him to wear a strap at the left side also,
he said: "Why should I? When I was young and poor and had no money I
had only one strap to fasten my trousers, and yet I did my work and
married my Flora, and now that I am old and rich and have my Flora why
should I wear a second strap?" Then he patted Flora on the shoulder
gently, thrust his hand deeper into his pocket, and went back to his
work.
When Hawermann entered, he jumped up from his chair, and exclaimed:
"There now, it _is_ Hawermann!--Didn't I always tell you," he went on,
turning to his son, "that Hawermann was a good man and an honest
man?"--"Yes, Moses," said Hawermann, "I'm honest, but ...."--"Get up,
David, let Mr. Hawermann sit down here beside me. Mr. Hawermann has
something to say to me, and I have something to say to him.--Now,
David, you told me I ought to go to law.--And what did I say?--That I
wouldn't go to law, for Mr. Hawermann was an honest man. I only went to
law _once_, and that was when I had done business with a candidate for
the ministry. When I sent the fellow a letter asking him for my money,
he wrote and told me to read a verse in the Christian hymn-book.--What
was it again, David?"--"It was an _infamous_ verse," replied David:
"'Mein Gewuessen beusst mich nicht,
Moses kann mich nicht verklagen,
Der mich frai und ledig spricht
Wuerd aach maine Schulden tragen.
"'Conscience doth not sting me
Moses cannot touch me,
He, who has set me free
Bears all my debts for me.'"
"Yes," cried Moses, "that was it. And when I showed the letter in court
every one laughed, and when I showed my bill, they shrugged their
shoulders, and laughed again.--Aha, I said, you mean the paper is good,
but the fellow is worth nothing.--They answered that I was right, that
I might have him put in prison, but must pay for his keep while
there--so that in gaining my cause I'd not only have to pay all the
costs of the suit, but I'd also have to provide for the fellow who had
swindled me as long as his term of imprisonment lasted.--If that's the
way of it, I said, let him go free.--Mr. Hawermann, you will treat me
better than the Prussian law-courts."--"That's all very well, Moses,"
said Hawermann, "but I can't pay you, at least not yet."--"But," said
Moses, looking at him enquiringly, "you've got something left?"--"Not a
farthing," answered Hawermann sadly.--"Good God! Not a farthing!"
cried Moses starting to his feet; then addressing his son: "David,
what are you about? What are you staring at? What did you hear? Go
and fetch the book."--Then he began to walk up and down the room
impatiently.--"Moses," entreated Hawermann, "only give me time,
and you shall have every penny that I owe you, both principal and
interest."--Moses stood still and listened attentively to what he said.
"Hawermann," he cried at last, breaking into the patois of the
district, for the Jews of the old time were just like the Christians,
when they felt deeply they always used the dialect of the province in
which they lived, "you're an honest man."--And when David returned with
the book, his father said: "Why have you brought the book, David, take
it away again." Then to Hawermann: "Well, well, I began with nothing,
and you began with nothing. I have worked hard, you have also worked
hard; I have been lucky, you have been unlucky; I understand my
business, and you understand yours. What isn't to-day may be to-morrow,
and to-morrow you may get a place, and if you do you will save up your
wages and pay me, for you are an honest man."--"I've got a place
already," said Hawermann much relieved, "and it's a good place
too."--"Where?" asked Moses.--"With Mr. von Rambow of Puempelhagen."--"I
congratulate you, Hawermann. He is an excellent man. Though he finds
the times hard, he's an excellent man, and though he doesn't do
business with me, he's an excellent man.--Flora," he shouted, putting
his head out at the door, "Mr. Hawermann is here, bring us two cups of
coffee."--And when Hawermann wished to decline the coffee, he said:
"You _must_ have it. When I was a lad and used to travel about the
country with a pack on my back, your mother often gave me a cup of hot
coffee in the cold weather, and afterwards when you were farm-bailiff I
never went to you in vain. We are both men. Drink it, Mr. Hawermann,
drink it up."--
And so this business was settled too, and that night when Hawermann
went to bed in Braesig's house, his heart was much lighter and was full
of courage, and as he lay awake thinking over the events of the past
day, he could not help wondering whether his dear wife had been praying
for him in her heavenly home, and whether she would be a guardian
angel, ever at his side during the remainder of his life on earth.
Next morning he went up to Puempelhagen, and when Mr. von Rambow and his
little son left two days later, he had quite settled down to his new
duties, and had got into the full swing of his work. There he remained
for many years in peace and contentment, for in course of time he lived
down his grief, and found his happiness in that of others.