This is not the place to decide whether the year 1848 brought most good
or evil into the world. Let everyone give his verdict as he thinks
best, I will not be drawn into expressing an opinion one way or the
other, and will only describe how it affected the people about whom I
am writing, for if I did not do that, the end of my book would be
rather incomprehensible to my readers.
When the February explosion took place in Paris, the Mecklenburgers
imagined that it would affect them as little as if it had taken place
in Turkey, or some such distant country, and most people thought it a
good joke that anything so exciting should still be possible in the
world. The good folk of Rahnstaedt began to take much more interest in
politics than they had ever done before, and the post-master said that
if matters remained as they were, the thing would have to be enquired
into. He had been obliged to order eleven new newspapers, four of which
were the "Hamburg Correspondent," and seven were numbers of the "Tante
Voss." He regarded this preponderance in favour of the latter paper as
a very bad sign, for the "Tante Voss" inculcated the necessity of
overthrowing the existing order of things; perhaps the editor meant no
harm by it, but he did it all the same. Thus we see that forty-four
politicians were provided with the latest news, for every four of them
took a paper amongst them which they each read in turn, and the
olive-branches of the various subscribers might be seen running with
the newspapers to the different houses at which they were due, looking
as if their parents thought it well to bring up their children to be
post-men. But what were eleven newspapers in a town like Rahnstaedt? The
artisans were still unprovided for, that had to be seen to; and it was
done before long.
"Where are you going, John?" asked Jack Bank's wife.--"Well, Dora,
I'm going to Grammelin's."--"You're going much too often to the
public-house. I don't like it."--"Oh, Dora, I only drink _one_ glass of
beer. Lawyer Rein is going to read the newspaper aloud there this
evening, and one likes to know what's going on in the world."--So Jack
Bank and about fifty other artisans went to the ale-house.
Lawyer Rein seated himself at the head of the table, newspaper in hand,
glanced down the table to see that there was a good audience, and then
coughed twice. "Silence!"--"Silence!"--"Bring me another glass of beer,
Grammelin."--"Hold your tongue, Charles, he's going to begin."--"Hang
it! Surely I may order a glass of beer first."--"Hush! _Do_ be
quiet!"--The lawyer now began to read. He read about Lyons, Milan and
Munich. The revolution had broken out at all of these places, the whole
world seemed to be going mad. "Here's something more," he said. "Faroee
islands 5th. The country is in an uproar, because the meridian, which
we have had in our island for the last three hundred years, is
to be removed to Greenwich, England. There is a strong feeling of
hostility against the English. The people are getting under arms, and
both of our hussar-regiments are ordered out for the defence of the
meridian."--"Well, well; very soon all of them will be at it."--"Ah
yes, lad. This isn't by any means a small matter. When one has had a
thing for three hundred years, one do'n't like having to give it
up."--"I say, lad, do you know what a meridian is?"--"What can it be?
It seems to be something that the English like to have. Now, then, you
wouldn't believe me when I told you yesterday that the English were at
the bottom of all the mischief, and you see that I was right."--Lawyer
Rein laid the newspaper down on the table and said: "Things are getting
very bad, and one can't help feeling rather anxious when one reads the
news."--"Why, what is it?"--"Has anything worse happened?"--"Just
listen. North-pole, 27th February. A very dangerous and extensive
revolution has broken out amongst the Eskimos. These people obstinately
refuse to turn the axis of the world any longer, and give as a reason,
the want of train oil for greasing the machinery, which is caused by
the failure of the whale fisheries last year. The consequences of
this revolt will be indescribably disastrous to the rest of the
world."--"Heaven preserve us! What does all that mean? Where is the
mischief to stop?"--"Surely the government will do something."--"The
gentry won't allow that."--"I don't believe it," said Jack Bank.--"You
don't believe it? Well, being a shoemaker you ought to know. Has the
price of train-oil risen since last year?"--"Well, lads," said
Wimmersdorf the tailor, "it looks very bad to me."--"I don't care,"
cried another. "When the sky falls the sparrows will all die. But I
will say this. _We_ must all work hard, and yet those cursed dogs at
the North-pole are sitting with their hands folded in their laps doing
nothing. Another glass of beer, Grammelin."
Three things are to be remarked from this scene at the ale-house.
Firstly, that Lawyer Rein trusted as much to his invention, as to the
newspaper, for the information he gave the people. Secondly that the
Rahnstaedt artisans were not quite well enough educated for newspapers
to be properly understood by them, and thirdly, that people are apt to
be rather indifferent to that which does not come home to their own
stomachs.
But it was to come nearer them now. One day the post from Berlin did
not arrive, so the Rahnstaedters crowded round the post-office, and
asked each other what it meant. The grooms who had come to fetch the
letter-bags for the country places wondered whether they ought to wait
or not. In fact the only man who was perfectly satisfied with the state
of affairs was the post-master, who was standing at his own door,
twirling his thumbs. He said that during the thirty years he had held
the office of post-master he had never had such a pleasant time of
leisure at that hour as he was then enjoying. Next day, instead of the
little boys, the subscribers to the newspapers came themselves, and
instead of the grooms, the squires rode into Rahnstaedt to ask for their
letters; but that did not help them much, for the post did not arrive
that day either, and it began to be whispered that Berlin had also
risen. One man told one story and another gave a different version,
each vouching for the truth of his own. Old Duesing, the potter, said
that he had heard the distant roar of cannon all morning, and everyone
believed him although Berlin was nearly a hundred and twenty miles from
Rahnstaedt. His neighbour Hagen the carpenter was the only man who
doubted, and he said: "I made the noise of cannon, for I was hacking up
some wood in my yard all morning."--The post arrived on the third day,
but not from Berlin; it only came from Oranienburg, and with it a man
who could tell them all they wanted to know, as he had just come from
Berlin. The only pity was that he had talked so hard the whole time he
had been travelling that he had no voice left when he reached
Rahnstaedt. He was a candidate for the ministry, and was born in the
neighbourhood, so the Rahnstaedters plied him with egg-flip in hopes of
making him speak. He drank a great deal of the flip, but all in vain,
he could only touch his throat and chest, and shake his head sadly. He
then tried to go away. Now that was a stupid thing of him to do, for
the Rahnstaedters had not come to the post-office to look about them and
hear no news. They would not let him pass, and he had to make up his
mind to describe the revolution in Berlin as best he could, helping
himself out by means of signs. He showed them that barricades were
erected in the streets, naturally only by signs, otherwise the police
would have been down upon him. He shouldered his stick like a musket,
and showed how the barricades were stormed. He rushed into the midst of
the Rahnstaedt crowd to show them how the dragoons came up at a
hand-gallop, and then he imitated the roar of cannon by saying "boom,"
that being the only word he had uttered, and it was said with infinite
difficulty.
That was how the Rahnstaedters learnt what a revolution was like, and
how it ought to be conducted. They sat in the public-house, and while
they drank beer, they disputed about politics. The state of affairs had
now become so grave that Lawyer Rein no longer dared to read despatches
from the North-pole. The gentlemen who subscribed for the newspapers
also began to frequent the ale-house, in order that they might make
themselves known to, and liked by the artisans in case there should be
a revolt here also. Such a consummation would have surprised nobody.
There were advanced thinkers in Rahnstaedt as elsewhere, and if the town
as a whole had no particular grievance, a great many individuals
amongst its inhabitants had small wrongs which might be magnified by
discontent into instances of gross injustice. One man had this, another
that, and Kurz had the town-jail. So it came to pass that all were of
one mind in thinking that the present state of things might be altered
with advantage to the community, and that in order to improve their
affairs they must needs have a revolution like their neighbours; but
still they thought that in their case a small one would be sufficient.
Thus the meeting of ignorant men for reading the papers was changed
into a Reform-club with a chairman and a bell, and the former irregular
attendance was changed to a regular attendance. The members of the
society adjourned every evening from the bar of the public-house to a
private room where they deliberated, but unfortunately they always
carried the fumes of the beer they had drunk with them. Everything was
done decently and in order, and this was a circumstance worthy of the
greater admiration that the whole company was composed of discontented
people, with the sole exception of Grammelin the landlord. Speeches
were made at the meeting. At first whoever had anything to say spoke
from his seat, but after a time that was all changed. Thiel the
cabinet-maker made a sort of pulpit, and the first speech delivered
from it, was when Dreier the cooper accused Thiel of having taken the
work out of his hands, for in his opinion he ought to have made the
pulpit and not the cabinet-maker. He concluded by begging the meeting
to uphold his rights. He gained nothing by his appeal, although it was
apparent to every eye, that the pulpit was exactly like a vat belonging
to a brandy-making establishment, and not like a pulpit at all. Mr.
Wredow, the fat old baker, moved that the pulpit should be made over
again, for it did not allow a man sufficient room to turn; but
Wimmersdorf, the tailor, said that such things were made large enough
for ordinary mortals, and that no one was expected to make them to suit
the fancy of people who chose to smother themselves in fat. So the
matter was settled much to the satisfaction of the thin members, while
the fat ones were so disgusted that they ceased to attend the meeting,
and this the others maintained was no great loss. But it was a mistake
on their part, for they thus got rid of the "calming element"--as it
was called--which would have kept the meeting in check, and instead of
it, the vacant places were all filled by labourers, so the revolution
might begin at any moment. The only two stout people who were still
members of the Reform-club, were uncle Braesig and Shulz the carpenter.
No one was more satisfied with the unsettled state of affairs than
uncle Braesig; he was always ready; he was like a bee, or rather--like a
bumble-bee, and looked upon every house-door and every window in
Rahnstaedt as a flower from which he might extract news. When he had
gathered enough he would make his way home and feed his friend Charles
with the bees-bread he had collected.--"I say, Charles, they've chased
away Louis Philippe."--"Is that in the newspaper?"--"I've just read it
there myself. What a cowardly old humbug he must be, Charles. How can a
king allow himself to be turned out?"--"Ah, Braesig, such things have
happened before. Don't you remember Gustavus of Sweden? When a nation
unites against him, what can the king do? He stands alone."--"That's
all very true, Charles, but still I'd never run away in such a case.
Hang it! I'd seat myself upon my throne, put my crown on my head and
hit out with arms and legs at any one who attacked me."
Another time he came, and said: "The Berlin post hasn't come to-day
either, Charles, and I saw your young squire galloping through the
streets to the post-office to ask why it hadn't come, but I'm sorry he
did so, for some of the artisans collected in a crowd and asked each
other whether they were bound to stand a nobleman galloping through
their streets any longer. He rode from the post-office to Moses' house,
and got the worst of it there. I also had something to say to Moses,
and so I followed him. Just as I got to the door, Mr. von Rambow came
out, and looked at me as he passed, but did not seem to know who I was.
I didn't take it ill of him, for he appeared to be full of his own
thoughts. I heard Moses say: 'What I have said, I have said: I never
lend money to a gambler.' Moses is coming here this afternoon."
Moses came as he had promised: "Hawermann," he said, "it's quite true;
it's quite true about Berlin."--"What? Has the revolution broken out
there also?"--"Yes," he answered, "but don't repeat what I tell you.
The son of Manasseh came to me this morning from Berlin. He travelled
by post to get here sooner, for he wants to do business with some
flints he has had since the year--15."--"What on earth does he expect
to get for his flints," cried Braesig, "everyone uses percussion-caps
now."--"How can I tell?" said Moses. "I know a great deal, and I know
nothing. He means that if the revolution spreads all the old muskets
for which flints were used will be brought into requisition again. He
tells me that the soldiers in Berlin fired upon the people with
muskets, pistols and cannon, and hewed them down with their sabres. The
fighting lasted for a whole long night. The soldiers fired on the
populace, who returned their fire from the windows and from behind the
barricades. They also made use of stones. It's horrible, very horrible,
But don't speak of it on any account."--"Then there was a regular
canonnade?" cried Braesig.--"Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed Hawermann,
"what times we're living in, what dreadful times!"--"What do you mean
by that. The times are always bad to stupid people; the wise find
all times good. These wouldn't be good times for me, if I didn't make
sure of getting my money paid up here and there. I, who am an old man,
find the times very good."--"But, Moses, do you never feel anxious
when you see everything going topsy-turvy? You are said to be a rich
man."--"No, I'm not a bit afraid. Flora came to me whimpering and
David came trembling. He said: 'Father, where are we to go with our
money?'--'We'll just remain where we are,' I said. 'We'll lend where we
have good security and we'll make money where we can; we'll be on the
side of the people if it's required of us. And David, let your beard
grow,' I said, 'the times are in favour of a beard.'--'Well, and if the
times change?' he asked.--'Then cut off your beard,' I said, 'the times
will no longer require you to wear it.'"
They now began to discuss Alick, his difficulties, and the fact that
neither money nor credit were to be had. They found much to say on that
score, for when credit goes the estate must go too, and many a
landowner would be unable to save his estate the times were so bad.
After Moses went away the two old bailiffs went down-stairs and spent
the evening with Mrs. Behrens. They talked together sadly, and Mrs.
Behrens every now and then clasped her hands and exclaimed at the
wickedness of the world, for the first time thanking God for having
taken her pastor to himself before these evil days had come upon the
land, and for having thus prevented him seeing the unchristian actions
which were now ruling the world. Hawermann felt like a man who had
given up some dearly loved occupation, only to see his work brought to
nought by his successor. Braesig alone took things easily, he held his
head in the air, and said: that the restlessness which had come into
the world was not only owing to man, but that God had helped to cause
it, or at least had allowed it, and it was a well known fact that a
storm cleared the air. "And, Charles," he added,--"I'm not talking
about you, Mrs. Behrens--but if I might advise you, Charles, you'd come
to Grammelin's with me to-morrow evening, for we ar'n't rebels, I
assure you. And do you know what it feels like to me? Just the same as
a thunderstorm. It's dreadful when one looks at it from outside, but
it's a very small affair, when one's in it."
That was how Braesig came to join the Reform-club, and every evening
when he returned home, he told his friends all that had happened. One
evening he came back later than usual, and said: "It was a mad meeting
to-night, Charles, and I have consumed a couple of glasses more beer
than usual because of the greater importance of our proceedings. You
must know that a number of labourers have become members of our club,
and why shouldn't they, we're all brothers. And the confounded rascals
have voted that all the land in the Rahnstaedt district should be
redistributed, so that everyone living within the district should have
an equal portion of land. Then as to the town-woods, they want to give
everyone the right of cutting down a fine old beech-tree every autumn
for his firewood during the winter. After that the people who owned the
land near Rahnstaedt got up and opposed the motion; they approved of
equality as much as the labourers did, but still they wanted to keep
their land. Kurz got up and made a long speech about arable fields and
meadows, of course ending with the town-jail, and when he was done they
all called him an aristocrat and turned him out of the room. Then
Wimmersdorf, the tailor, rose and preached about free-trade. No sooner
had he done that than the other tailors fell upon him and thrashed him
unmercifully: they all wanted equality, but still their guild must be
kept up. Whereupon a young man came forward and asked sarcastically:
What about the seamstresses, must the guild be maintained amongst them
likewise? Then it was said that the seamstresses should be admitted
into the tailor's union, but others opposed it, and there was a great
row in which the old tailors got the worst of it. Meanwhile rector
Baldrian was making a long, long speech in the body of the hall, in
which he talked a great deal about the emancipalation--or some such
long word--of women, and said that if the tailors wouldn't admit the
seamstresses into their guild, the latter were quite able to set
up one of their own, for they were human beings and sisters like the
rest of us. So the motion was carried and the seamstresses are now
admitted into the guild; and it was arranged before I left that
all the seamstresses should dress themselves in white the day after
to-morrow--you remember the yellow faced old maid who passes this
house regularly, Charles? Well, she's one of them; they always call
her 'auntie'--and go and thank the rector, and give him a woollen
jersey and a pair of drawers on a cushion in token of their
gratitude."--"Braesig, Braesig," remonstrated Hawermann, "how can you
talk such nonsense. You're all acting as if there were no lawful
authority remaining, and as if you could each do what is right in your
own eyes."--"Why not, Charles? Who wants us to do otherwise. We pass
our resolutions to the best of our knowledge, and if nothing comes of
them, why nothing comes of them. As far as I can see, nothing can
possibly come of them, for everyone wants to gain something, and no one
will give up anything that he has."--"That's just as well, Zachariah,
and I don't think for my own part that this little town will do much
mischief to anyone with its speechifying, for parties are very equally
divided. But just fancy if the labourers throughout the country were to
take it into their heads to divide the estates of their masters amongst
them! What a dreadful thing it would be!"--"Oh, they'll never do it,
Charles."--"It's one of the deepest desires of human nature, Braesig, to
wish to call a bit, however small, of the earth one's own, and those
ar'n't the worst men who try to gain some of it for themselves. Just
look round you. When an artisan has made a little money, does he not at
once lay it out on a small garden or field? and is not his pleasure in
his purchase as great as his gain? The town labourer does the same, for
he has the power to do so, and that's the reason that I don't think the
discontent of the Rahnstaedt labourers will ever rise to a dangerous
height. But it's utterly different with the country people, they have
no property and can never even by the greatest economy and diligence
attain to any. If these new opinions should happen to take root amongst
them, and if they are egged on by demagogues, there is no telling what
harm may come of it. Yes," he exclaimed, "the bad masters will suffer
first, but what assurance have we that the good masters will not be
attacked next?"--"Well, Charles, you may be right, for Kurz said to me
this evening--that's to say before he was turned out--that two
Guerlitz labourers were talking very strangely in his shop last
Sunday."--"Well," said Hawermann, taking up his candle to go to bed, "I
don't wish anyone harm, although some people have perhaps deserved it,
but the pity of it to my mind is, that the innocent will suffer as well
as the guilty, and that the whole country will share the fate of the
few, who by their misconduct have brought all the misery upon
themselves."--He then went away and Braesig said to himself: "Charles,
may be right after all, and dreadful things may happen out in the
country, so I must go and see what young Joseph and parson Godfrey are
about. However young Joseph's in no danger, for he has never angered
his labourers in any way, and so they'll let him alone. George at the
parsonage isn't a rebel either, I'm sure of that."
Hawermann knew the nature of the people amongst whom he had worked for
so many years. A feeling of uneasiness was spreading like a fever
throughout the land. Reasonable complaints together with the most
unreasonable and insane demands flew from mouth to mouth; what at first
had been only whispered, was soon to be spoken of openly. The
landowners were most to blame for that. They had lost their heads. Each
of them acted as it seemed good to him, selfishly worked for his own
safety regardless of others, and as long as he was at peace with his
own people cared nought for his neighbour's fate. Instead of meeting
their people honestly and straightforwardly, and showing them the real
state of the case, some of the squires granted every demand their
labourers chose to make in their folly and ignorance, while others,
getting on horseback, wanted to reduce their labourers to order with
swords and pistols, and I know several landowners who never went out to
drive in their own grounds without taking a couple of loaded muskets in
the carriage with them. And why was this? Because their conscience
pricked them for their former conduct, and because there was no kindly
human sympathy between them and their dependents. Of course that was
not the case with all the masters.
Alick was one of those landowners who had never ill-treated his people.
He was not hard on them generally speaking, but he could be hard if he
thought his position was becoming insecure. During that time of
political and social excitement the hidden qualities of all men were
clearly revealed, and he who could look calmly on the march of events,
and do what had to be done with quiet circumspection, who could
distinguish good from evil, and steer his ship through the breakers
which threatened to engulf it, was a wise and far-seeing man. That was
not Alick's character. He was surrounded by his discontented vassals,
and tried now this way, and now that way, of stemming the rising tide
of insubordination, so it came to pass that he made two of the mistakes
we have before alluded to; at one time he would foolishly submit to the
villagers' demands, and at another, he would return to the ideas of a
cavalry-officer and threaten his people with fire and sword. The
peasantry also were changed, and it was his own fault that this was the
case. He had taken from them little customs to which they were attached
from use and wont, and at other times he had, in his good-nature, given
them all kinds of injudicious liberties, that had only made them greedy
of more, for he did not understand human nature as a whole, nor did he
understand the peasantry at his gates. He had praised the people when
they were idle, and he had scolded them when they were working hard,
for he didn't know their capabilities. In short his actions were not
guided by right and justice, but by his impulses, and as he had been
rather low spirited of late, the discontent of the labourers was
increasing, and threatened soon to break out into a blaze.
There was a hotbed of disaffection close to where Alick lived, and that
was Guerlitz. It had once been as quiet and well doing a place as any in
the country side, but in spite of the efforts parson Behrens had made
for many years to keep it so, matters had gradually been growing worse
and worse. Each of the new owners into whose hands it had passed had
helped to bring about this state of things, and that old wretch
Pomuchelskopp rejoiced when he saw it, for--dreadful as it is to
say--there are some people who would rather see their labourers badly
off than happy and comfortable, for they think that when their people
are suffering from want, they will be the better able to rule them
autocratically. Pomuchelskopp did not remember that when revolutions
are the order of the day a half starved peasantry may be easily induced
to revolt altogether, while those who are well off have not the same
inducement to go so far. The neighbouring gentry who had long seen that
the Guerlitz labourers were growing disaffected, never thought that
the fire which Pomuchelskopp had fanned--without understanding its
force--for his own ends, might spread throughout the district. The
Guerlitz labourers had become accustomed to the taste of brandy, for
there was a brandy-distillery up at the manor, and what they drank
there was deducted from their wages. So in course of time they became
beggars, and every penny they made, over and above what they spent at
the still, was expended in the Rahnstaedt public houses, where they soon
learnt how the world was wagging. The waiters at the spirit shops told
them what was going on throughout the country, and when they came home
with their heads muddled with the brandy they had been drinking, they
began 111 their besotted ignorance to add their unreasonable desires to
the tale of their real wrongs, and so added to the miserable
complication. Their starving wives and children stood about them
looking like ghosts; the only way they could get a morsel of food was
by begging; thus they carried story of their wretchedness through the
country-side written on their famished faces, and sparks of the
revolutionary fire were kindled everywhere.
Nothing was as yet ripe for revolt, there was still too much to be made
in other ways, and the people were also restrained by the well meant
advice of kindly souls, who understood and felt for them. Another thing
that kept them from open revolt was the old feeling of loyalty to their
masters, and the remembrance of former benefits received from them, to
say nothing of the eternal sense of right and law which survives
wonderfully long even in men who are led astray. These things all
combined to keep the fire from bursting forth, even with the Guerlitz
villagers. If they had been able to read what was going on in the heart
of their master, they would perhaps have risen at once, for hardness
and cowardice were striving for the mastery in his soul. His conscience
had died long ago, and he had no need to accuse himself of any kindly
action to an inferior. At one moment he would exclaim in a rage: "Oh
those wretches! If I only.... The law must be changed! What's the use
of a government which possesses soldiers, and yet doesn't march them
out? Why, my property's in danger; and it's the duty of my government
to protect my property." Next moment he would perhaps call Gustavus to
come to him out of the yard, and would say: "What a fool you are Gus,
why are you running after the threshers; let them thresh what they
like, I won't have a row with my people." On one such occasion he
turned to his wife immediately after saying this, and seeing her
sitting on her chair as stiff and unbending as a poker, looking at him
contemptuously with her pointed nose and sharp eyes, he added: "I know
what you're thinking, Henny. You want me to go out and show myself a
man; but that would never do. It really wouldn't do, Chuck. We must
temporise, we must temporise, and we may perhaps get the better of them
by judicious temperamentation." Henny expressed no opinion upon this
proposal of her husband's, but she looked as if she had no intention of
acting in accordance with it, and Pomuchelskopp then said to Mally and
Sally: "Children, let me beg you not to repeat what I have just said.
Especially take care not to tell any of the servants. Be as kind to
them as you can, and try to induce your dear Mama to be kind to them
also. I am always in favour of kindness, for my own part." Then Mally
and Sally went to their mother, and said: "You don't know what dreadful
things have happened Mama. John Joseph told the servants this morning
that the work-women of the X. estate have whipped squire Z. with
nettles. We must give way, Mama, we must give way, there's no help for
it."--"How silly you all are," cried Henny, rising to leave the room.
"Do you think that I'm afraid of such people?" she asked scornfully as
she closed the door. But she was alone in her unnatural heroism, and
got no sympathy from anyone, for Muchel was not to be sneered out of
his fear of stormy weather, and the other members of that "quiet
family" for once agreed with their father. "Children," cried
Pomuchelskopp, "treat everyone kindly. The confounded rascals! Who
would have thought of this three months ago? Now Phil and Tony remember
this. I won't have you beat the village children or paint an ass' head
on the back of old Brinkmann's smock-frock. The ragamuffins! I'm sure
that they're egged on by the Reform club at Rahnstaedt, and by the Jews
and shopmen. Just wait a bit ...!"--"Yes, father," said Sally, "did
you know that Ruehrdanz the weaver has become a member of the Reform
club and that the other villagers want to join it also? It's a bad look
out, isn't it?"--"Bless me! you don't mean to say so! But wait, I must
join it too. I'll get myself elected."--"_You!_" cried both his
daughters in a breath, looking as much astonished as if their father
had just announced his intention of setting fire to his own house. "I
must, I must. It'll make the artisans like me, and will prevent them
setting my people against me. I'll pay up all my bills, at once, that's
the first step--it's a horrid thing to do, but it's necessary in order
to check-mate my labourers."--Mally and Sally were frightened, they had
never before seen their father in such a state; but they were still
more startled when he added: "I've got another thing to say to you, and
that is, be sure that you're polite to the parson and his wife--for
mercy sake remember that--your mother won't--Oh Henny, Henny what
misery you cause me! The parsonage people may be very useful to us or
very hurtful as the case may be. A squire and a parson can do what they
like, if they only hold together! We must invite Mr. and Mrs. Godfrey
Baldrian to dine here some day, and then afterwards when times are
better, we can break off the acquaintance if we find them unpleasant
people."
This was done! A few days after this conversation parson Godfrey and
his wife received a note of invitation from Mr. and Mrs.
Pomuchelskopp,--for good old Henny had given in to her husband in this
point--, they presented their compliments and hoped to have the
pleasure of their company at dinner, and concluded by saying that the
maid was waiting for an answer. Braesig had just arrived at the
parsonage to see how everything was going on. When Godfrey had read the
note of invitation, he looked as thunderstruck as if he had just
received a summons to attend a meeting of Consistory because of
teaching false doctrine, or leading an immoral life. "Well!" he
exclaimed. "Here's an invitation to dine at the squire's! Where's Lina?
Lina," he shouted putting his head out at the parlour door. Lina came.
She read the letter and stared at Godfrey, who stood before her not
knowing what to do. She looked at Braesig, who was sitting in the sofa
corner grinning at her like a fox at Whitsuntide. "No," she said at
last, "we wont go there."--"Dear wife," said parson Godfrey, for he
always called her "dear wife" when he was going to put his clerical
dignity in the scales against her opinion, at other times he contented
himself by saying "Lina," "dear wife, it is wrong to thrust away the
hand one of our brethren extends to us in kindness."--"But Godfrey,"
answered Lina, "this isn't a hand, it's a dinner, and besides that,
this brother's name is Pomuchelskopp. Am I not right, Braesig?" Braesig
made no reply except by a grin. He sat there like David the son of
Moses when he was engaged in weighing a Louis d'or, for he wanted to
see which would turn the scale, Godfrey's clerical dignity or Lina's
sound common sense. "Dear wife," said Godfrey, "it is written: 'Let not
the sun go down upon your wrath,' and 'if any man strike thee on thy
right cheek ....'"--"That's got nothing to do with it, Godfrey. We
are'n't angry, and as for the slap on the face, I agree with Braesig
about that. May God forgive me if it's a sin! It may have been
different in those old times; but I know that if it were the fashion to
do that now-a-days, there would be a great deal more fighting than
there is, and all the world would be running about with swelled
faces."--"But, dear wife ..."--"You know, Godfrey that I never
interfere with your management of clerical affairs, but a dinner-party
is a worldly matter, and when it's at the Pomuchelskopps it's even more
than that. And then you forget that we have a visitor. Isn't uncle
Braesig here? And wouldn't you much rather eat pea soup and pig's ears
here with uncle Braesig, than dine at the Pomuchelskopps? Besides that
they hav'n't invited Mina," she added as her sister came into the room,
"and yet they know that Mina is staying with us." All this had a great
effect upon Godfrey. He was very fond of pea soup, and pig's ears
pickled at home were his favourite dish; then I may add that he had a
real affection for uncle Braesig, and was very grateful to him for the
help he had given him; indeed one of his greatest puzzles was how a man
like Braesig, who was so honest and true in all his dealings could be so
poor a Christian and churchman. He therefore excused himself and his
wife from dining at the manor. But unfortunately whilst they were at
dinner, Braesig was so far left to himself as to mention that he had
really become a member of the Reform club in Rahnstaedt, and Godfrey,
pig's ears or no pig's ears, sprang to his feet, and spoke strongly of
the evil influence exercised by that society. Lina tried to pull him
back into his chair by his coat tails several times, for the soup was
growing cold, but Godfrey would not stop. "Yes," he cried, "the scourge
of the Lord has come upon the world; but woe to the man whom God shall
choose as His scourge!" As he was not in church this time, Braesig
interrupted the clergyman, and asked who was the scourge to be chosen
by God. "That is in the hands of the Lord," cried Godfrey, "He may
choose me, or Lina, or you."--"Neither Lina nor I will be chosen,"
answered Braesig, wiping his mouth, "for Lina fed the poor in the year
'47, and last week I voted for equality and fraternity at the Reform
club. I am not a scourge, for I do no one any harm; but if I could only
get hold of Samuel Pomuchelskopp for one moment--then ...." Godfrey was
too much taken up with the importance of what he had been saying to
allow Braesig to finish his sentence: "Oh!" he said. "The devil is going
about the world like a roaring lion, and every platform erected at
these Reform meetings is an altar on which men offer him sacrifice. I
will oppose all such altars by another. I will preach in God's house
against these burnt offerings made to the Devil, against these reform
meetings, against these false Gods and their altars." He then sat down
and eat a couple of spoonfuls of pea soup. Braesig watched him for some
time in silence, and as soon as he saw that the reverend gentleman had
got over his excitement, and was beginning to enjoy the pig's ears, he
said: "You're quite right in one respect, parson, the place where the
speeches are made at our Rahnstaedt meeting looks just like one of the
devil's altars, that's to say, it's shaped like a vat such as are used
in a brandy-distillery. Still I can't say that any one sacrifices to
the devil at our meetings. If any one does, it must be Wimmersdorf, the
tailor, or Kurz, or perhaps your own father, for he makes the longest
speeches of the whole--now hush--I only want to say that from my
knowledge of the devil, and I've been acquainted with him for many a
long year, I'll answer for it that he'll have nothing to do with the
Rahnstaedt Reform club, he isn't such a fool."--"You know Godfrey," said
Lina, "that I never interfere with your management of clerical matters,
but surely you will never mention such a secular thing as a Reform club
in the pulpit." Godfrey answered that that was just what he intended to
do. "All right then, do," said Braesig, "but it'll only prove that
people are wrong in saying that the clergy understand their own
advantage better than any other class of men, for instead of preaching
your church _full_, you'll preach out everyone who goes to hear
you."--Uncle Braesig was right, for after Godfrey had preached one
Sunday with great zeal and fervour against the spirit of the
times--which, let it be remarked in passing, he understood as little as
a new born child--and, against all reform meetings, concluding by
saying that he would finish what he had to say on that subject on the
following Sunday, he found that Lina, Mina and the beadle were his only
audience when he got into the pulpit, for he did not count a few old
women who had only come to church for the soup Lina always gave them
after service. So he went home with his sermon and his womankind,
followed by the old women with their soup cans, and the beadle locked
up the church. Godfrey felt like a soldier who, carried away by
military ardour, has gone too far, and finds himself surrounded by the
enemy.
Everything was going wrong throughout the land, and every man's hand
was against his neighbour. The world had been turned topsy-turvy, and
those men who had formerly made themselves of much account were now
unheeded, while those who had nothing, thrust themselves forward. The
men who used to be accounted wise, were now looked upon as foolish, and
those who had been called foolish, were supposed to have grown wise in
the course of a single night. The great were abased; the nobles gave up
their titles, and the labourers wanted to be called Mr. so and so. But
two threads ran straight through the maze of cowardice and impudent
self-assertion, and served to comfort and cheer humanity. The first of
these was parti-coloured, and anyone who could free himself from the
general fear, and general greed of moneymaking, sufficiently to follow
its course, might enjoy many a quiet laugh at the oddity of human
nature. The second thread was of a rosy hue, and on it depended all
that made the happiness of mankind; pity and compassion, sound judgment
and reason, honest service and self-sacrifice, and the name of this
thread was love, pure human love, which made its way right through the
tangled web of selfishness, showing the truth of God's decree that love
is to remain unimpaired by misery, so that it may in the end change
even the dull grey of the web of selfishness into its own rose colour,
for--God be thanked!--that thread is never cut.