Hawermann never heard of what had happened at the parsonage, but from
that day his daughter was even more loving and tender to him than
before, as if she had determined that her love should wipe away the
scandalous words that had been spoken regarding him. Mrs. Nuessler of
course heard all about it from her children, but she had not the heart
to trouble her brother by telling him what would so sorely distress
him; the clergyman and his wife were silent for the same reason, and
also because they hoped that the circumstance would die out of their
foster-child's memory, if it were never alluded to; Joseph Nuessler said
nothing, and Braesig held his tongue as far as Hawermann himself was
concerned, but he indemnified himself for his silence, and for the
sharp attack of gout which came on the day after the scene at the
parsonage, by nearly raising the country-side against the
Pomuchelskopps, who so little understood how to gain the love and good
will of their neighbours, that they soon made themselves as
disagreeable in the eyes of those who lived near them as my wife's[8]
floors just before Whitsuntide--well-polished and shining as they are
at other times.
Pomuchelskopp looked upon his surroundings as a great garden in which
he might plant his self-esteem. Whether it gave him shade or flowers he
did not care; as long as what was sowed there flourished and grew
apace, it mattered not to him what form it took. He had come to
Mecklenburg for two reasons: firstly, because he thought the purchase
of Guerlitz a good bargain, and secondly, because he had an exalted
idea of his future position as justice of the peace. "Henny," he
said, "every one has the upper-hand of us here in Pomerania, and the
Sheriff is all-powerful, but in Mecklenburg _I_ shall be one of the
law-givers. And besides that, I've always heard that if rich men of the
middle-class only stick to the aristocracy through thick and thin, they
receive a patent of nobility after a time. Only think, Chuck, Mrs. von
Pomuchelskopp!--how would you like that? One mustn't crow too small in
this world!"--That was a sin of which he never was guilty. He gave up
his chief delight of making a great show with his money for fear of
having to do it in the company of tenant-farmers and bailiffs, and he
addressed old Braesig coldly and distantly, and paid a visit of ceremony
to Braesig's master, the Count, instead of to his old acquaintance. He
put on his blue coat with the brass buttons, and drove to Warnitz in
his grand new carriage drawn by four brown horses, and when he got
there he was as much out of place as a pig in a Jew's house. As soon as
he reached home again he seated himself crossly in the sofa-corner, and
flapped at the flies. His wife who was always loving to him when he was
in a bad-humour, asked him: "What is the matter with you. Poeking?"--He
growled out in reply: "What should be the matter with me? It isn't me,
it's those confounded aristocrats who are friendly one moment, and turn
a cold shoulder on one the next. He offered me a chair, and then asked
me very politely how he could be of service to me--I didn't want his
help, I'm better off than he is--but I couldn't think of anything to
say at the moment, and the silence grew so frightful that there was
nothing for it but to go away."--Notwithstanding this repulse
Pomuchelskopp did not crow any lower; he hung on the skirts of the
aristocracy as closely as the tail to the sheep, and though he had not
a penny to give any of his own people when they were in distress, or to
the poor artisans in the town who were often nearly starving, he always
had plenty of money for any extravagant young sprig of the nobility who
asked him for it; and though he prosecuted any poor man without mercy
who ventured to cross one of his corn-fields, yet he gave Braesig's
master, the Count, leave to hunt over his land in harvest-time; and
though he treated his clergyman scandalously with regard to the
Easter-lamb, he allowed the Count's keepers to shoot a roe-deer at his
very door without a word of remonstrance. Yes, Samuel Pomuchelskopp had
high aims!
Hawermann kept out of his way, for he was of a quiet disposition and
disliked quarrelling, he was contented with his lot, and had plenty to
do. He felt like a storm-tossed mariner who had at last reached port,
and he had nothing to trouble him but anxiety about his master's
affairs.--A short time before he had received a letter with a black
seal, and written in an unknown hand, in which the Squire informed him
that he had had a slight stroke of paralysis, and had lost the use of
his right hand, and that a still greater misfortune than even that had
happened to him, his wife had died suddenly, and when apparently quite
well. Then he went on to say that his nephew, Frank, might be expected
at Puempelhagen at the Michaelmas term to begin to learn farming,
adding: "he wishes to put his own hand to the work, and to learn
everything thoroughly, and I think he is right." These were the words
the Squire had dictated to his secretary.--A few weeks later Hawermann
got another letter in which Mr. von Rambow informed him that he had
given up his government appointment in Schwerin, and intended to take
up his abode at Puempelhagen after Easter with his three unmarried
daughters, he could not come before that, because he must spend the
winter in Schwerin to be near his doctor. He then desired his bailiff
to see that the manor-house was put in a thorough state of repair.--Of
course, this change made a great difference to Hawermann, even though
he had done nothing to make him fear his master's eye, and though he
took great interest in all his concerns, yet he could not help thinking
that the quiet simple tenour of his life would be changed, and
besides--was not this the precursor of a still greater change?
Michaelmas came, and brought with it Frank von Rambow. He was by no
means a handsome young man, but he was strong and healthy, and on
looking closely at his grave face, one saw that his eyes had a very
good-natured expression; the shade of melancholy which was often to be
seen on his countenance was perhaps caused by his having lost both his
parents in his childhood, and therefore feeling himself alone in the
world. He was no genius, but he possessed sound good sense, and had
made the most of his opportunities; he had passed through all the
classes of the High School with credit, and had been thoroughly
prepared for the University, but, above all, he had learnt what would
be useful to him all his life long--to work! He might be likened to a
young tree that had been grown in a nursery-garden in poor soil, whose
stem had matured slowly, but was strong and good, whose top was firm
and upright, and whose branches were spread out equally on every side,
so that when the time came for it to be planted on other ground, it
could stand by itself without artificial support, and the gardener
said: "Let it be, it is straight and true to a line, it needs no stake
to keep it steady."
Frank von Rambow, whom Hawermann remembered as a three years old child,
was now twenty years of age, and had steady principles, views and
opinions such as few other young men in the province were possessed of.
He had two large estates, which had been completely freed from debt
during his long minority. Of course, he could not remember the time
when Hawermann was in his father's service, but he had been told how
fond of him the bailiff had always been, and when a single-minded,
good-hearted man knows that he sees before him one who has carried him
in his arms when he was a little child, an involuntary feeling of trust
and confidence in the man comes into his heart, and it seems to him as
if the intervening years had passed away, and he were a child again,
seeing the old sights and dreaming the old dreams.
And Hawermann returned the young man's trust and affection with all his
heart. Carefully and patiently he taught his pupil the work he had come
to learn, he showed him how to manage matters in byre and field, told
him why he did this or that, and tried to make everything easy to him;
but he found that his pupil would not have things made too easy for
him, that he was determined to learn everything practically, and so he
gave him his wish, and said of him what the gardener had said of the
tree; "Let him be, he needs neither prop nor support."
A new inmate was soon to join this quiet couple, and bring life and
excitement with him, and that was Fred Triddelfitz. As soon as
Triddelfitz, the apothecary in Rahnstaedt, who was brother-in-law of
Mrs. Behrens, heard that Hawermann was teaching a young man farming, he
took it into his head that his son Fred, a fine lad of seventeen,
should also profit by Hawermann's lessons. "The higher branches of
farming are all that I require," said Fred, "for I was twice at
Moeller's in the dog-days, and helped to lead in the corn there."
Little Mrs. Behrens refused to have anything to do with the
arrangement, for she knew her nephew, and did not wish to trouble
Hawermann with the charge of him, but her brother-in-law would not
leave her in peace till she undertook the business. Hawermann would
have gone through fire and water for the clergyman's family, but he
could make no promise till he had consulted his master. He therefore
wrote to Mr. von Rambow, and told him that young Triddelfitz was only
in the third division of the High School, that his head was full of
nonsense, but that he was a good-hearted lad all the same; still his
principal merit was that he was nephew of the clergyman's wife to whom
he, Hawermann, owed so much as the Squire already knew; besides that,
the father offered fifteen pounds a year for his son's board. Would Mr.
von Rambow allow Fred Triddelfitz to learn farming on his estate on
these terms?--The Squire wrote to say that he would not hear of
receiving money for the youth's board, that the fifteen pounds was to
pay for the teaching he got, and that was Hawermann's business, not
his. If Hawermann liked to do it, let him do it in God's name.--It was
a great pleasure to Hawermann to be told this, he could now do
something, however small, to show his gratitude to Mr. and Mrs. Behrens
for the great service they had done him, and so he consented to receive
Fred without the payment of any fee.
Fred Triddelfitz arrived. But how did he come? Being the only son of
his mother--she had two daughters besides--he was so grandly got up for
his new mode of life that he might have passed for a farmer's
apprentice, a grain-merchant, a commercial-traveller, a farm-bailiff, a
tenant-farmer or a country-gentleman, according to the part he was
called upon to play, or as his own fancy dictated. He had kid-boots,
and leather-boots, laced-boots, top-boots and high-lows; he had
dressing-slippers, dancing-shoes, and shoes that came up well about his
instep; he had buttoned leggings, leggings for riding in, and other
kinds of leggings; he had evening-coats, linen smock-frocks,
tweed-coats, and pilot-jackets, he had greatcoats, waistcoats,
and water-proofs, and it would be impossible to mention the names of
all the various kinds of trousers and breeches with which he was
provided.--This outfit arrived at Puempelhagen one beautiful morning in
a number of huge boxes, together with a feather-bed and an enormous
davenport; the carrier at the same time gave the pleasing intelligence
that the young gentleman might be expected at any moment, for he was on
the road, and his arrival had only been delayed by a slight difference
between him and his father's old sorrel-horse which he was riding; the
horse refused to go further than Guerlitz parsonage, because he had
never before been required to do so. How the battle would end the
carrier did not know, for he had left it still undecided, but the young
gentleman was coming all the same.
The carrier's information was correct, the young gentleman came; but
how did he come? He was dressed as grandly as if he had been the agent
of two large estates, and had been asked by his master, the Count, to
join his great hunting-party; he had on a green hunting-coat, white
leather-breeches, boots with yellow tops, and spurs, and over all he
wore a water-proof, not because it looked like rain, no, but because it
was a new kind of dress, and he wanted to hear what people said about
it. He was riding his father's sorrel-horse, and it was easy to see
that they were not on the best of terms with each other. The sorrel had
come to a stand in the middle of the large pond in front of the
parsonage, and had refused to move to the great terror of little Mrs.
Behrens, but at last after a struggle of about ten minutes, Fred got
the mastery by the aid of his riding-whip and spurs, and now when he
dismounted at Puempelhagen his new water-proof was coated with mud. The
sorrel stood quietly in front of the door of the home-farm at
Puempelhagen, stared straight before him, and asked himself: "Is _he_ a
fool, or am I one? I am seventeen years old, and so is he. I am of a
reddish brown colour, and so is he. He got his own way to-day, but I'll
have mine next time. If he ever attacks me with whip and spur again,
I'll just lie down quietly in the pond."
When Fred Triddelfitz entered the room where Hawermann, young Mr. von
Rambow, and the housekeeper Mary Moeller were seated at dinner the
bailiff was startled, for he had never seen his new pupil before. Fred,
in his new green hunting-coat, looked exactly like an asparagus stalk
that had run to seed, he was so small and thin in the waist that any
one could easily have cut him in two with his own riding-whip. It was
quite true as the sorrel-horse had said, that he had red hair, his
cheek bones were high, his face freckled, and his manner self-confident
and bored. Hawermann could not help saying to himself: "Heaven preserve
me! Am I to teach this young fellow? It's all up with me now!"--He was
roused from his disagreeable reflections by a great shout of laughter
from Frank von Rambow in which Mary Moeller joined, secretly and holding
her table-napkin up to her face to hide that she did so.--Fred, wishing
to talk down their laughter, had just begun: "Good morning. Sir, I hope
I see you well," when he caught sight of his old school-fellow at
Parchen, Frank von Rambow, who was in convulsions of laughter; he
looked at him rather sheepishly at first, but after a moment joined
heartily in the laugh against himself, and even grave old Hawermann
laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks.--"Why," cried Frank,
"whatever induced you to get yourself up so grandly?"--"One should do
everything in style!" said Fred, whereupon Mary Moeller once more
disappeared behind her table-napkin.--"Come, Triddelfitz," said
Hawermann, "sit down and have some dinner."--Fred did so, and anyone
would have said that the rascal was in luck, he had begun his country
life at the best time of the year for food, when geese were in season,
and as it was Sunday, a finely browned roast goose was on the table, so
that his first experience of a farmer's life might well be a pleasing
one to him. He did not spare the goose in any way, and Hawermann
thought that, if he sat on horseback as he did at table, if he paid as
much attention to the labourers as he did to the goose, if he
understood foddering a horse as well as feeding himself, and if he
swept everything under his charge as clean as his plate, he might
expect him to be a great acquisition to the place.
"Now, Triddelfitz," said Hawermann as soon as dinner was over, "go to
your room and change your clothes, and don't forget to wrap up your
grand riding-costume carefully for fear the moths should get at it, for
you won't want it again during the first two years that you are here.
We don't ride here, for all our work can be done on foot, and I do any
riding that may be necessary myself, when it is convenient."--Fred soon
returned to the parlour wearing good strong leather boots, breeches,
and a sort of pilot-jacket made of grass-green cloth.--"That's better,"
said Hawermann, "now come with me and I will show you what we are
doing."--They went out.--Next morning Fred went with seven of the young
men and women who worked on the farm, along the Rahnstaedt road to open
any drains that were blocked up and so let the water run off wherever
it had collected in pools--what made this occupation especially
unpleasant was that it was a November day, and that a small persistent
rain was falling.--"Hang it all!" said Fred Triddelfitz, "I never
thought that it would be as bad as this."
One Sunday afternoon, about a fortnight or so after his arrival, Braesig
rode up to the farm. Fred had by this time grown so far accustomed to
his position with Hawermann, to his monotonous employment, and to the
everlasting rain, that he was able partly to understand his duties as a
farming apprentice, and with his customary good nature had begun to pay
all sorts of little attentions to everyone about him. So when he saw
Braesig ride up to the door, he ran out to meet him and take his
horse; but Braesig shrieked out: "Keep away from me. Don't touch me.
Keep ten feet away from me.--Let Charles Hawermann come out and
speak to me."--Hawermann came: "Why don't you dismount, Braesig?" he
asked.--"Don't help me down, Charles--just fetch me a soft chair, so
that I may dismount gently and gradually, and then put a sheep-skin mat
or something soft beside the chair for me to step upon, for I've got
that confounded gout again."--Everything was done as he wished.
Foot-stools were laid from the chair to the door, and then he slid
slowly and carefully from his saddle, and limped into the parlour. "Why
didn't you let me know you were ill, Braesig, and I'd have gone to see
you with pleasure?"--"It wouldn't have been of any use, Charles, I had
to crawl out of the hole myself. But I came to tell you that I've given
up all hope."--"Of what?"--"Of marrying. I intend to accept the pension
that the Count promised me."--"I think that I should do the same in
your place, Braesig."--"Your advice is very good no doubt, Charles, but
it is hard for a man of my age to give up the darling wish of a
life-time, and go to a water-cure place, for it's there Dr. Strump
wants to send me. I don't have Dr. Strump to attend me because I
believe that he knows how to cure me, but because he suffers from that
wretched gout himself, and when he's sitting beside me talking
learnedly about the benefit to be derived from taking Polchicum and
Colchicum, I feel comforted by the thought that such a clever man has
gout as badly as myself."--"Then you are going to a water-cure
establishment?"--"Yes, but not till spring. I've arranged all my plans.
I'll just manage as well as I can this winter; in spring I'll try the
water-cure, and at the midsummer term I'll retire on my pension, and go
to live at the old mill-house at Haunerwiem. I thought at first that
I'd go to Rahnstaedt, but I shouldn't have a free house there, and I'd
have found a leg of mutton now and then too expensive a luxury to be
indulged in."--"You're quite right, Braesig. It's much better for you to
remain in the country and near us; indeed I don't know what I should do
if I hadn't a sight of your honest old face every few days."--"Oh, you
wouldn't miss me much, you have so many people about you, especially
these two lads. And that reminds me, there was another thing I wanted
to say to you. Old Broeker in Kniep, and Schimmel in Radboom want you to
teach their sons fanning. I should consent to take them if I were you,
and by adding a room or two to the old farm-house you'd be able to set
up quite an aquademy of agriculture."--"You're joking, Braesig! I've
enough to do with the two pupils I have already."--"Do you think so? I
hope they are well."--"Yes. You know them both, and I want you to tell
me what you think of them."--"I can't give any opinion as yet, I must
first see their way of going on. The first thing to teach a young
farmer is what a colt is always taught, to lead with the right foot.
Look, there's your young nobleman, call him here that I may have a
better sight of him."--Hawermann laughed, but agreed to Braesig's
proposal and called Frank von Rambow. "Hm!" said Braesig, "he walks
steadily and not too hurriedly, and doesn't put off time with looking
about him, but goes straight to the point. He'll do, Charles. Now for
the other!"--"Mr. von Rambow," asked Hawermann when the young man had
come up to the window, "where is Triddelfitz?"--"In his room," was the
answer.--"Hm!" said Braesig. "Is he resting?"--"I don't know."--"Tell
him to come down," said Hawermann, "and you'd better come back soon
yourself, for coffee will be ready immediately."--"Charles," said
Braesig, "you'll see that the apothecary's son is sound asleep this
afternoon."--"Never mind if he is, Braesig, he was up very early this
morning giving out the feeds of corn for the horses."--"He oughtn't to
do it, Charles, young people get into the habit of sleeping in the
afternoon only too easily. Ah, there he is. Send him past the window
that I may get a good side view of him!"--"Triddelfitz," cried
Hawermann, putting his head out at the window, "go to the stable and
tell Joseph Boldten to have a pair of horses ready to drive Mr. Bailiff
Braesig home later in the afternoon."--"Bon," said Fred Triddelfitz, and
then he set off at a good swinging pace along the causeway.--"Bless my
soul!" exclaimed Braesig. "What a high action the fellow has! Look at
him, did you ever see such loose joints, soft muscles, and thin flanks!
You'll have to feed him up for a long time, Charles, before he has what
can be called a body. _How_ he's getting over the ground! He's a quick
dog that, a regular greyhound, and you'll soon have your hands full
with him I wager."--"Ah, Braesig, he's so young. He'll soon quiet
down."--"Quiet? Sleeps after dinner? Says 'bong' when you send him a
message? And, look there--yes--he's coming back without ever having
been at the stables at all!"--"Didn't you say, Sir, that Joseph Boldten
was to drive?"--"Yes," cried Braesig sharply, "Joseph Boldten is to
drive, and is not to forget what he is told.--Don't you see now that I
was right, Charles?"--"Oh, Braesig," said Hawermann, who felt rather
cross with Fred for his stupidity, "let him be. We're not all alike.
He'll do well enough if he only pays a little more attention to what he
is told."
Hawermann seldom lost his temper, when he felt inclined to be cross he
struggled against the feeling until he conquered it. In spite of the
other ills of life which often filled his heart, such as care and
anxiety, he always refused Captain Cross-patch admittance, and if ever
he succeeded in making good his entrance, whispering ill-natured
remarks and lies in his ear, he showed him the door at once and bid him
begone, so that it was not long before he got rid of the intruder on
this occasion also, and was able to enjoy a confidential chat with
Braesig which lasted till his friend went home.