That made it worse, much worse for the poor lieutenant next morning
when David was shown into his room. No one could accuse David of being
softhearted--not even his own mother--but he had changed very much
since Mr. von Rambow had last seen him. He had had some sort of human
kindness in his expression when he was counting out the gold the
lieutenant wanted in attorney Slus'uhr's office; but now that he had
come to ask for his money he looked so hard and cruel that the young
man was half frightened even before he knew for what he had come. And
then there was nothing for it but to renew the bill, for David insisted
on its either being renewed or paid at once, adding, "very well then,
Sir, just sign this paper and it will do." When this was done David's
face relaxed, and became what it had been on their first acquaintance.
"Thank God! that's over now," thought the lieutenant. But a few days
later a carriage drove into the court, and attorney Slus'uhr was seated
in it.--"Merciful Heaven!" sighed Hawermann, shaking his head, "has he
got into his clutches too?"--And when the attorney was shown into the
lieutenant's room, he also exclaimed: "Merciful Heaven!" on seeing his
visitor. Still, this was a less painful piece of business than with
David, for the attorney was a more respectable looking man, and easier
to talk to; his clothes were always clean and neat, and even handsome,
and he had the art of making his conversation in keeping with his
dress--as long as it was his interest to do so. The lieutenant made him
sit down on the sofa, and ordered coffee, and it seemed at first as if
they were going to have a pleasant conversation about the weather, and
the neighbourhood, and human wickedness--the attorney had a great deal
to say on that head, for he had all his life been accustomed to look at
the failings of others, and never at his own. "Yes," he said, in
allusion to a certain tradesman in Rahnstaedt, "only think, Mr. von
Rambow, of the wickedness of that man. In the kindness of my heart I
gave that man--that is to say, that not having so much money of my own,
I had to borrow some at a large percentage--well, as I was saying, I
lent him enough money to free him from his difficulties, and he was
very grateful--but _now_, when I want to have it again,--_must_ have
it--he turns up on me, and threatens to have me tried at law for asking
too high a percentage."--Naturally the attorney said no more on that
part of the subject, he had only mentioned it to give the lieutenant a
fright, and it did not fail in having the required effect. In order to
turn the subject, the young man asked what kind of shop the tradesman
had. The attorney, however, was too well up to his work to allow
himself to be put off, so he answered the question shortly, and then
went on: "But I have gone to law with him instead, and now he'll see
what will happen---his credit is gone--and then the scandal! I never
went to law with one of my clients before, but he has himself to thank
for it. What do you think?"--It was thus that the attorney carried the
war into Mr. von Rambow's country, and the poor young fellow prepared
to receive the attack that was to be made on him. He coughed, and moved
about restlessly, but said nothing, for he did not know what to say. It
was all the same to the attorney, who only brought his battery a little
nearer: "But, thank God, I hav'n't always such rascals to deal with. He
is quite an exception. By the way, as we are talking of money," here he
drew out his pocketbook, "allow me to return you your bill," and he
handed the lieutenant the bill for a hundred and twenty-five pounds,
and as he did so he pricked his rat-like ears, his grey eyes stood out
more prominently than usual from his yellow-grey face, and he licked
his dry lips in the same way as his prototype does at the sight of a
nice bit of fat bacon. Our poor lieutenant took the bill, and tried to
deceive the lawyer by putting on an indifferent manner. Yes, he said,
he would take the bill, and would send the money; he had started for
Puempelhagen so suddenly, and the cause of his coming was so sad that he
had not thought of bringing money with him to meet the bill.--Ah,
replied Slus'uhr, he could quite believe that, he remembered so well
when _his_ father died; yes, at such a time it was impossible to think
of anything but the loss one had sustained.--And as he said this
he put on such a pitying expression that the lieutenant felt renewed
courage--but, added the attorney, he had been obliged to look forward
to the punctual payment of this bill, for he was much in want of
money as he had to pay up a large sum at once--and so he must have
the bill discharged.--"But this is such little money," interrupted
Alick.--"Yes--yes," said the attorney slowly, and at the same time
taking some more papers from his pocket-book. "These are also for small
sums," laying on the table before him the bills for upwards of three
hundred pounds, which David had bought in the town where the
lieutenant's regiment was stationed.--Alick was startled out of his
pretended indifference: "How do you come by these papers?" he
cried.--"Surely, Mr. von Rambow," was the answer, "you are aware that
it is the nature of bills to change hands in course of business,
therefore it ought not to surprise you that I should have accepted
these in lieu of money, more especially as it saved me a great deal of
trouble in writing, and at the post-office."--The lieutenant felt more
uncomfortable than even at first, but still he had not the faintest
suspicion of the plot against him. "But, Mr. Slus'uhr," he said, "I
hav'n't got the money at this moment."--"You hav'n't!" cried the
attorney, glaring at him as much as to say that he suspected him of
being in league with the devil to play him false. "No, no," he added,
"I don't believe that."--What could the lieutenant say now. The
attorney had looked him full in the face, and had told him coolly that
he didn't believe what he said, that he could pay if he would. At
length the beautiful old plan of putting off the evil day was agreed
to. The lieutenant would gladly have arranged it so before, but the
attorney would not at first consent, for he wanted to taste the full
enjoyment of his position, and to make a better bargain for himself
than David had done. His happiest moments were those when he could say
to himself: I am far cleverer than any of my neighbours, I can set down
my foot on gentle and simple, and I delight in seeing them writhing
under my tread.
These were the troubles and anxieties which weighed upon Alick von
Rambow, and disturbed him in his mourning for his father. The soul can
fight its way through God-sent sorrows however deep and agonizing they
may be. When it at length reaches port after having done battle
manfully with the mighty billows of that wide and eternal sea, it is
strengthened and purified by what it has gone through, and is able to
face life again with a larger experience, and a greater courage. But it
is otherwise with those whose trouble is caused by their own sins, they
have fallen into a quagmire, and some of the mud sticks to them, so
that they are ashamed to look other men in the face. This was the case
with the young squire, he was ashamed of having led such a foolish and
thoughtless life; he was ashamed of having allowed himself to fall a
prey to usurers, whether Jew or Christian; he was ashamed of being
unable to think of any plan by which he might extricate himself from
the mire into which he had fallen, and of having saved himself for the
moment by means that would only serve to draw him further into the
slough. How easy it would have been for him to have kept out of all
this trouble if he had only taken Hawermann's advice. And how willingly
would the bailiff help him now that loyalty to the old squire did not
stand in the way. But the human heart is very reserved and timid, and
thinks it will find rest when far away from the place where it has
suffered pain and mortification, so Alick left Puempelhagen sooner than
his sisters had expected.
He found everything as he had left it when he reached the barracks, but
_he_ himself was changed, at least he told himself so every day; but if
his brother officers had been asked their opinion on the subject, they
would have said that they saw no difference in him, which was quite
natural, as the only change in him was that he made plenty of good
resolutions, but never put them in practice. He was determined to be
economical; he was determined to follow his father's advice, and read
the agricultural books he had sent him, as much of them, at least, as
he could; he was determined .... he was determined .... Oh, what did he
not determine to do?--His economy began early in the morning with his
coffee; for a whole long week he drank it without sugar, for, said he,
"Take care of the pence, and the pounds will take care of themselves;"
after coffee he smoked a cigar, for which he now paid at the rate of
two pounds seventeen a thousand, instead of three pounds; he scolded
his servant for giving him butter at breakfast; he ordered his groom to
give his horses half feeds of corn instead of whole feeds as before,
because, he said, oats were so dear. Of all his new regulations this
was the only one that lasted--probably because he and his horses did
not dine together--the rest came to an end after a week's trial. And
why? Because, he said, he could not carry out his plan in everything,
and to be of use it must be done thoroughly. It was not much better
with his studies. He knew the first three pages of each of the books on
farming almost by heart, he had read them so often. He always began at
the very beginning again when he took them up, for if he did not, he
lost the sense of what he was reading. To make up for this
conscientiousness on his part, he sometimes amused himself by picking
out the most interesting bits of the books, and when he had gone
through them all in this way, reading a page about horses here, and
another there, he threw them aside, and said that he knew all about it
now, and indeed understood the whole affair better than the authors
themselves. Ah, well--what good did all that reading do him? He knew
nothing of agriculture practically, and a farmer must be _practical_,
theory is worse than useless to him. He made the acquaintance of a Mr.
von so and so whose estate lay near the town in which his regiment was
quartered; like Mr. von so and so he asked the bailiff what they were
doing to-day whenever he rode to the farm, and then he went home again
understanding as much about the real state of matters as Mr. von so and
so himself, for he knew as well as his friend that manure had been
carted in Seelsdorf on the 15th of June, and that the young horse at
Basedow was descended from Gray Momus; or else he went out to shoot
over the barley-stubble with Mr. von so and so, and as they walked,
found on enquiry that the last load of barley had been led in on the
27th of August; then he shot a few partridges, and when he came home at
night he knew as well as Mr. von so and so whether the partridges were
good.
He liked that way of farming very much, and as people generally enjoy
talking of what pleases them, our friend Alick was not behindhand in
this respect, and so of course soon gained a reputation of
understanding such matters, and was regarded as a shining light by his
comrades. As most of his brother officers were the sons of noblemen who
were possessed of large estates they knew that in course of time they
would have to give up their easy comfortable garrison life and
undertake the difficult task of managing a property in such a way as to
gain the largest possible income from it, they therefore looked upon
Alick as a miracle of diligence and imagined that he enjoyed the
thought of the hard work before him. The greater number of them admired
him heartily for it, but there were several foolish fellows amongst
their number, who were such fine gentlemen, that they considered taking
an interest in such matters beneath the dignity of an officer in his
majesty's service.
Alick was always chosen as umpire in any dispute on farming matters,
and as he had to defend his position by argument, he was obliged to
keep his eyes open lest he should be worsted, and so his knowledge
gradually increased. Great progress had been made in the science of
agriculture during the last few years, for Professor Liebig had written
a learned book for the benefit of country-gentlemen, which was filled
with analytical observations about coal, and nitre, and sulphur, and
gypsum, and chalk, and ammonia, and which explained hydraulics and
irrigation--it was enough to make any sane man go mad only to read it!
And yet everyone who wished to increase his knowledge of such matters,
and to dip his fingers into science, bought the book, and sitting down,
read and read till his brain whirled, and when he had finished the book
he hardly knew whether gypsum was nutritious or otherwise--for clover,
not for men--or whether he ought to attribute the odour of the
farm-yard to the presence of ammonia or not.--Alick got the book and
read it diligently, but it quite stupified him, he felt as if his head
were going to burst, and his mind became a blank, so he shut it up, and
would soon have forgotten all about it, if he had not made the
acquaintance of a good-natured chemist, who showed him the different
substances specified by the professor and let him examine and smell
them for himself. This was learning the thing practically, and from
that moment he understood the whole matter as well as Liebig himself,
and so never needed to look into the book again.
There was one branch of agriculture in which he took particular
interest, viz. farming implements and machinery. He had always
delighted in mechanical contrivances, and when a boy had made a little
mill for himself, and although his mother hated to see him employ his
hands in any useful way, he had, when at school, insisted on having
private lessons in bookbinding. These little accomplishments were very
useful to him now, for, with the help of drawings of the new-fashioned
American plough and Scotch harrow, he found it quite easy to cut out of
wood miniature ploughs, harrows and rollers, and in this occupation he
found much innocent amusement.--He did not rest satisfied with this, he
went further, and attempted to make whip-lashes, bird-rattles, &c. He
would probably have been contented with these triumphs of mechanical
skill--and it was certainly much to his credit that he did not think it
beneath his dignity to use carpenter's tools--if he had not become
acquainted with a half-mad old watch-maker, who had spent his life and
substance in trying to discover the secret of perpetual motion for the
good of his ungrateful fellow creatures. This benefactor of his species
showed him his whole plan, pointed out how one wheel acted in
connection with another, and showed him rollers, screws and springs,
and then another wheel; he showed him machines that would not go, and
some that did go, and others that would not go as they ought; he showed
him machines which Alick could understand, and some which he could not
understand, and one or two which he himself could not understand. The
whole thing interested Alick so much that he at once joined the noble
army of benefactors of mankind, and determined to invent something. His
great desire was to invent a machine which would plough, harrow, roll
and act as clod-breaker at the same time, and it was a touching sight
to see the handsome young cavalry-officer sitting beside the weazand
old watch-maker and thinking how he could by his invention be of use in
his generation.
So matters might have continued for a long time, and he might have made
a wonderful invention for the good of mankind, and might also in the
pursuit of this object have been brought to beggary by the increasing
number of his bills, for of course while thus engaged, he had neither
time nor inclination to think of the payment of his debts, and though
Puempelhagen brought him in a good income he had enough to do with it.
He had to pay interest on the money borrowed by his father, and to
provide for his sisters, and then he lived happily on what remained
without a thought of his own debts now that he had got over the first
onslaught of the usurers.
But there are two spirits, a brother and sister, who at a moment's
notice awake even the most indifferent of men from their dreams by the
warm fire-side, and drive them out into the storm and rain, and these
are Hate and Love. Hate seizes a man, by the scruff of the neck and
throws him out violently, saying: Get out, you blackguard!--Love takes
him gently by the hand and leads him to the door, saying: Come with me
and I will show you something better than this. But it is six of the
one and half-a-dozen of the other, for whichever of these spirits comes
to a man he is at once obliged to leave the warm chimney corner whether
he will or no.--Alick had to make acquaintance with them both, and by
no fault of his own.
I do not know whether it is still the case, but it used to be the
custom in the Prussian army for the colonel of a regiment to send in
regular reports of the conduct of his officers to the war-office at
Berlin, and King Frederic William was in the habit of looking over
these reports himself just to see how everything was going on in the
different companies. Now Alick's good old colonel liked his young
lieutenant extremely, and that for many reasons. One of them was this;
The colonel had once possessed an estate over at Laenneken, near Buetow
and Lauenburg, which he had farmed on the most curious and eccentric
principles in the world, and now that he had an auditor who was capable
of entering into the merits of the case, he launched forth in
explanation. The chief peculiarity of his system was that he would
allow no manure to be used on his land, because he could not see the
use of it; in short he had his own little ways of doing things, and
like a stage-coachman who has grown too old to drive, he found intense
enjoyment in talking over his experiences. Alick listened attentively
and silently, for it would not have done to contradict his commanding
officer, and so the old colonel thought him an unusually clever fellow.
Alick's name therefore always appeared well in the report, but
unfortunately the colonel spelt very badly, and on one occasion he
wrote: "Lieutenant von Rambow is a very 'fe-iger' (cowardly) officer,"
when he meant "faehiger" (smart). The king saw this and wrote on the
margin of the report, "I do not require cowards in my army--dismiss him
at once." The old colonel was in despair, he must set matters right,
but he could see no help for it but to consult his adjutant as to how
it should be done. The latter showed him his mistake and then not being
able to hold his tongue, told everyone what had happened, and before
long poor Alick became the butt of his regiment. The man who laughed
loudest, and referred to the matter oftenest, was a pompous fool of
"very old family," who had always disapproved of Alick's agricultural
talk, not because he found it stupid or mistaken, but because he found
fault with everything he did, and now he battered his comrade with his
heavy jests so unmercifully that all his brother officers noticed it.
Alick alone remarked nothing.
Then something else happened; Mr. von so and so from whom Alick had
learnt so much farming when riding, or with his gun in his hand, had a
wonderfully beautiful daughter--I am not exaggerating, she was really a
lovely girl. The lieutenant of "very old family" paid her great
attention, but she would have nothing to say to him, and rather showed
a preference for her other admirer, Alick. Whether it was that the lady
was so stupid as to dislike the lieutenant of "very old family," or
whether she wanted to marry a man who was really a man, or whether
Alick's good-nature and his gentle deference to women pleased her,
cannot be known, but before long Alick was as happy as a king, and the
lieutenant of "very old family" was left out in the cold.
It chanced about this time that the officers of the cavalry-regiment
gave a great ball, and that the lieutenant of very old family got a
pair of false calves made for the occasion. His own comrades scarcely
recognised him--his nether man was so changed, and as was natural when
so many young people were together, such a good opportunity for playing
a practical joke could not be allowed to pass, more especially when a
mischief-maker like the adjutant was amongst them. The adjutant
managed, unperceived by his victim, to pin a number of butterflies on
the false calves of the lieutenant of "very old family" who danced away
with them quite happily. Everyone looked and laughed and pointed him
out to their friends, till at last he himself caught sight of the
decorations on his false calves, and turning in a rage upon the first
laughing face he saw, which, as chance would have it, was Alick's,
growled: "If you had not been properly described already in the
colonel's report, I should have had all the pleasure in the world in
characterising you in the same way."--Alick did not take in the meaning
of the words, but he heard the contemptuous tone in which they were
uttered, and, being an extremely fiery young gentleman, said angrily in
reply to his rival, that he had not the remotest idea of what he meant,
but that his tone was most insulting, and that he must answer for what
he had said. He then went and asked his captain, with whom he was on
very friendly terms, what it all meant, and the explanation he received
was not exactly calculated to lessen his resentment. He challenged the
lieutenant of "very old family," and then challenged the adjutant for
making known the colonel's mistake; and the lieutenant of "very old
family" also challenged the adjutant because of the butterflies. So, a
few days later, on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, they all three drove
out to a cool and shady wood attended by their seconds and witnesses,
doctors and surgeons, and there they slashed at each other's faces with
their swords, and shot at each other, and after that peace was once
more established amongst them. Alick had received a cut on the nose,
because he had very foolishly parried a blow with his face instead of
with his sword.
The cut did him no harm although it did not add to his beauty, for Mr.
von so and so's pretty daughter heard of what had happened, and after
she had put two and two together, and had guessed that their rivalry
was the true cause of their disagreement, who could blame the girl for
being even kinder to Alick than before.
Now I could tell you the whole of Alick and Frida's love story if I
chose to do so, and then everyone would say that I had chosen a hero
and heroine such as are not to be met with every day, a lieutenant in a
cavalry-regiment and a nobleman's daughter. But I will refrain. In the
first place because I never give myself more to do than I can help, and
who is to oblige me to give the tradesman's young daughters who may
possibly read this book private lessons in the way a cavalry-officer
makes love, or to show young men without position how to make love to a
nobleman's daughter.--And who will guarantee its not having that
effect?--Secondly, I wish to say once for all that I am not writing for
the young, but for the old who take a book to fan away the flies, and
to make them forget their worries as they lie on the sofa in the
afternoon.--Thirdly, I have still three girls to marry before the end
of my book, and just let who ever wants to know what _that_ is, ask the
mother of three unmarried daughters. Louisa Hawermann must of course be
married, and would it not be a shame to make the twins old maids and
leave them to get through the world as best they can?--Fourthly and
lastly, I do not feel myself capable of describing the love-making of a
lieutenant in a cavalry-regiment. Such a thing is beyond me and beyond
Joseph; it would require a Shakespeare or a Muehlbach to do it justice,
and indeed who knows whether Shakespeare would have succeeded either,
for as far as I know he never even attempted it.--The short and the
long of it is that they were married at Whitsun-tide in the year 1843,
and Mr. von so and so having no other dowry to give his daughter on
that momentous occasion, gave her--his blessing. Now that he is our
Alick's father-in-law we will call him by his right name, Mr. von
Satrop of Seelsdorf, but it is as well to mention at the same time that
Seelsdorf was far more deeply mortgaged than Puempelhagen.
Frida von Satrop was a sensible girl, and thoroughly understood, even
before her marriage, that as the lieutenant's affairs were somewhat
involved, and as she herself had not a farthing, it would be much
better for him to leave the army, and Alick consented to do so, for he
saw that the joke about his cowardice was not likely to die out for a
long time to come, and that the old colonel's blunder in the report
would always remain there with the red ink stroke to mark it, and
besides that he wanted to try some of his farming theories at
Puempelhagen, and to see whether he could not by these means make more
money out of the estate and so pay off his debts.
He therefore sent in his papers, packed up his uniform, scarf and
epaulettes, took sad leave of his trusty sword before laying it in the
chest beside the other things, and then nailing down the lid affixed
his seal to it, and tied on to it a piece of paper on which he had
written these words: "The seal is to be broken by my heir if I should
happen to die suddenly," and then the chest was sent to Puempelhagen.
Alick was married in a black dress-coat, and as soon as the ceremony
was performed he and his young wife set off on their wedding-tour to
the Rhine.
How he arrived at Puempelhagen on midsummer's-day 1843, must be told in
another chapter.