Let no man be too certain of anything; above all, let him not paint the
devil on the wall, for he often comes when no man calls, and seldom
waits for an invitation; some of the guests Henny had proposed that her
husband should invite were already awaiting the arrival of their host
and hostess at Guerlitz manor. All the inhabitants of Guerlitz village
assembled in the court-yard of the manor as the dawn began to break on
that summer morning and stood at the door ready to receive their
master. "Lads," said Ruehrdanz, "what must be, must be; but do
everything decently and in order!"--"Bother you and your order!" cried
Willgans. "Has he ever treated us so?"--"That doesn't matter," said
Ruehrdanz, "we must act so as to have the right on our side. See how
foolish you are. When we go to our Grand Duke, as we ought to do, and
tell him all about it, he may ask: 'How did you set about it,
Willgans?' and if you have to answer: 'Oh, your Highness, we first
thrashed the man and his wife and then turned them out of the place,'
how do you think it would sound? And what tales do you think Mr.
Pomuchelskopp would have to tell against you."--"Yes," replied old
father Brinckmann, "Ruehrdanz is right. If we content ourselves with
turning them out of the place, we shall be quit of them, and needn't
mind what anyone may say afterwards." It was settled that this should
be done. Behind the men were the women and girls, and the tall
masculine looking woman who had attended the meeting on the previous
morning was standing amongst them. She said: "They've gone as far as
they will. If they don't chase that man and his wife out of the place
I'll thrash the fellow as long as he can stand."--"Yes, father," cried
another woman, "we must get rid of them, we _must_ indeed! I went to
the parsonage yesterday and Mrs. Baldrian gave me some food, and the
parson begged me to be patient.--_Patient!_ Can starving folk be
patient?"--"Joseph Smidt," said a tall slender young girl, "just run
over to the Seeberg, will you, and look if they're coming. How our two
young ladies will open their eyes, Sophie, when they find themselves
sent off on such an unexpected journey!"--"Father," said Zorndt, a
labourer, to Brinkmann, "oughtn't we to tell the parson what we're
doing? Perhaps it might be well for us that he should know."--"No,
father Zorndt, there's no need to tell him, he couldn't help us, and I
don't think he would understand our motives. If our old parson were
still alive it would be different!"--"They're coming now," cried Joseph
Smidt running up. "Who'll speak?" asked Willgans, "I'll catch the
leaders by the head."--"Ruehrdanz," was echoed from mouth to mouth.
"Well if you like, why shouldn't I do it?" answered Ruehrdanz--not
another word was said.
John Joseph, the coachman, drove up and was about to turn into the
yard, when Willgans caught the leaders by the head, made them stand a
little side ways so as to stop the other two horses, and said: "Wait a
moment, John Joseph." Pomuchelskopp looked out of the window of the
glass coach, and seeing all the villagers standing about the carriage,
asked: "What's the meaning of all this?" Ruehrdanz, followed by all the
others, came close to the carriage door, and said: "Sir, we've
determined that you shall no longer be our master, for you've never
treated us as a master should treat his servants, and you were every
bit as cruel to other people before you came here, for you've got an
iron ring round your neck, and we won't have a master with a ring round
his neck."--"You rascals! You scoundrels!" cried Pomuchelskopp, who had
now discovered what the villagers meant. "So you would seize upon me
and mine, would you?"--"No, that's not what we want," answered old
father Brinkmann, "we're only going to see you safely out of the
place."--"Drive on, John Joseph," cried Pomuchelskopp. "Slash at them
with your whip."--"John Joseph," said Willgans, "if you move your whip,
we'll knock you down. Now turn the carriage!--So--ho--That's right!"
The carriage and horses were now turned towards Rahnstaedt. Sally and
Mally screamed out with terror; Gustavus jumped down from the box and
stood between the labourers and his father; everyone was in a great
state of excitement, except Henny, who remained stiff straight and
unbending as ever, without uttering a single word. "You band of robbers
you! What do you want?" cried Pomuchelskopp. "We ar'n't robbers,"
answered Smidt, "none of us will steal even a pin from you, and
Gustavus here may remain and manage the estate and tell us what we
are to do."--"But your wife and two eldest daughters must go with
you," interrupted Mrs. Kapphingst, "we can bear their tyranny no
longer."--"Gently, friends, gently," said Ruehrdanz, "let us do
everything decently and in order. It won't be enough to take them away
over the Guerlitz march as we intended, we must hand them over to our
chief magistrate, the mayor of Rahnstaedt. I'm sure that that's the
proper thing to do."--"Ruehrdanz is right," said the others, "and you
may go home quietly Gustavus, no body will touch you. Now John Joseph,
drive on slowly." Then some of the villagers went on one side of the
carriage and some on the other, thus forming a guard. They went at a
quick march like a regiment of soldiers. Pomuchelskopp had given way to
the inevitable, but his misery was great. He wrung his hands and
groaned: "Oh me! oh me! What shall I do? What shall I do?" and putting
his head out at the window, he said: "I've always been a kind master to
you all."--"You mean a cruel monster!" cried a voice out of the crowd.
Sally and Mally were crying bitterly, but Henny sat as stiff as a tin
thermometer; if the labourers had known what a thermometer was, and
that I had likened her to one they would have said that she was marking
a point far above boiling. Willgans who had at first been near the door
on her side of the carriage, drew back a little, because she once,
without uttering a sound or bending forward, stretched out her hand and
seizing his curly red hair nearly pulled out a handful, her eyes
shining and glaring in the dusk of the early morning like those of a
beagle when chasing a hare. "Mercy! I say look at her!" cried Willgans.
"Father Duesing! help!--Mercy! Look at the wretch! Do give her a knock
over the knuckles." But before father Duesing could free him from her
clutches, brave old Henny had thrust his nose down on the carriage door
two or three times, so that the blood trickled down his face. "Mercy!
Help I say! This is not to be borne; wait a bit and I'll ...."--"Stop!"
cried Ruehrdanz, "you can't blame her, lad, for revenging herself
according to the malice of her nature, so take no notice this time, but
you can tell the Grand Duke all about it, and can show him your nose,
which will bear witness to the way she has treated you." Henny said
nothing, and the procession moved on again. When they reached the
border of the estate the labourers sent their wives and children home,
and about seven o'clock the prisoners and their guard entered Rahnstaedt
slowly and solemnly.
Uncle Braesig was stretched out on the window seat in his room smoking,
and meditating on the heroic deeds he had done on the previous
evening.--Kurz was in a very bad humour although he had not been at the
fraternity ball, and was going about his shop grumbling and scolding:
"The stupid ass! The idiot! Wait till I catch him!" After a time he
came, I mean Mr. Suessmann by "he." He danced over the threshold, and
Kurz laying both hands on the counter looked as if he were preparing to
jump over it and spring upon his assistant before he was well in the
shop, but he thought better of it and waited. "Good morning, chief,
chiefer, chiefest!" cried Mr. Suessmann, coming in with a clatter
and rattle of everything in the shop that could make a noise, and
seating himself on the edge of a herring barrel with his hat cocked
very much on one side, went on: "Good morning, Kurzie, woortsie,
poortsie!"--Before he had time to make any more rhymes on his master's
name, Kurz sprang upon him, pulled his hair with both hands, flung his
hat into the herring barrel, and then dragged him further into the shop
by the whiskers. Mr. Suessmann clutched blindly behind him for something
to hold on by, and chanced to seize the spigot of a barrel of oil, his
struggles were so great that the spigot came out, and the oil began to
run out of the hole.--"Hang it!" cried Kurz. "My oil, my oil!" and
letting Mr. Suessmann go, he stuck the forefinger of his right hand into
the hole in the barrel, Mr. Suessmann who still had the spigot in his
hand, waived it round his head in triumph, and as mad or intoxicated
people are always fertile in expedients, he determined to clinch
the matter and so pulled the spigot out of the vinegar barrel.
"Preserve us all! My vinegar!" cried Kurz, at the same time sticking
the forefinger of his left hand into the hole in the vinegar barrel. In
order to keep a finger in each of the barrels Kurz had to bend forward
and to stretch out both arms to their utmost extent, and this Mr.
Suessmann deemed too good an opportunity to be lost. "My
chiefie!--Kurzie!"--slap!--"Good-bye grocerie-pocerie!"--slap!
slap!--"Joanna goes, ne'er to come back again!"--slap, slap,
slap!--Having done this, Mr. Suessmann picked his hat out of the herring
barrel, set it on one side of his head, laid both the spigots on the
counter about twenty feet away from Kurz, and then left the shop
laughing and dancing.
"_Help!_" cried Kurz. "He-lp!--He--lp!" but not one of the servants was
in the house, and his wife was out in the back garden planting
asparagus. The only person who heard him was uncle Braesig. "Charles,"
he said, "I think I hear Kurz bellowing. I'll go and see if anything
has happened."--"He-lp!" shouted Kurz.--"Bless me!" said Braesig.
"Whatever are you making such a noise for at seven o'clock in the
morning?"--"Infamous rascal!" growled Kurz.--"What? Is that the way to
treat me?" remonstrated Braesig.--"Meanspirited hound!"--"You're a rude
barbarian!"--"Give me the spigots that are lying on the counter over
there."--"You may get your nasty greasy spigots yourself, you ass
you!"--"I can't, or else all the oil and vinegar will run out of these
casks, and I wasn't talking to you, I was speaking to Suessmann."--"Ah,
then it doesn't matter," said Braesig, seating himself on the counter
with a flop, and swinging his legs about, "what's the matter?"--Kurz
explained how he had come to be imprisoned at the barrels.--"Well,
Kurz, you're a joke, but take warning by what has happened, a man
always suffers in the very things which he has used sinfully."--"I
entreat ...."--"Hush, Kurz! You have always sinned in your sales of oil
and vinegar, for you used to pour out of your measuring tins into your
customer's basins with a swoop so as to leave two or three desert
spoonfuls in the measure without anyone noticing it. Will you give good
measure for the future, and will you never peep into the cards again
when you're playing at Boston."--"Yes, yes," cried Kurz.--"Very well
then, I'll set you free," said Braesig, bringing him the spigots.
Scarcely was Kurz free than he rushed out into the street as though he
expected to find Mr. Suessmann waiting for him behind the door. Braesig
followed him, and just as they reached the street Pomuchelskopp arrived
on the scene escorted by his labourers.--"Preserve us! What's this?
Ruehrdanz, what's the meaning of all this?"--"Don't be angry, Mr.
Braesig, we've turned off our squire."--Braesig shook his head as he
answered: "Then you've done a very foolish thing." He followed the
procession and many people they met in the street did the same.
When they got to the mayor's house, the labourers unharnessed the
horses, while Ruehrdanz, Willgans, Brinkmann and several others
went into the house.--"Well, Sir," said Ruehrdanz, "we've brought him
here."--"Who?"--"Oh, our Mr. Pomuchelskopp."--"Why, what do you
mean?"--"Oh, nothing, except that we won't have him to rule over us any
longer."--"Good Heavens! What have you been about?"--"We've done
everything legally, your worship."--"Have you laid violent hands
on him?"--"No, we didn't touch him, but as for his wife, she seized
father Willgans by the ...."--But the mayor had left the room, and
was already at the carriage door asking the Pomuchelskopps to come
in. They accepted his invitation and the mayor took them into the
drawing-room.--"Why have we been treated so badly? Why have we been
treated so badly?" whimpered Pomuchelskopp. "Oh, Mr. Mayor, you know
that I've always been a good master to my people."--"For shame, Kopp,"
interposed Henny.--"No," said the mayor without attending to Henny and
looking Pomuchelskopp full in the face, "you have _not_ been a good
master. You know that I have often been obliged to remonstrate with you
about your conduct, you know that I refused to have anything to do with
your law affairs because of the injustice of your cause. I'll have
nothing to do with this except as a private individual, and what I do
will be for the sake of those poor mistaken peasants. Pray, excuse
me ...."--"Oh, please advise me. What shall I do?"--"You can't go back
to Guerlitz for a short time; if you did it would only rouse the people
to violence, so you'd better wait here in Rahnstaedt till you see your
way clear. Excuse my leaving you for a few minutes, I am going to speak
to the labourers."
What good could talking do? The people had made up their minds, and the
bad characters amongst them had been obliged to consent to let their
quieter, honester neighbours have their own way, and they were so sure
their way was the right one that they refused to give it up.--"No,
Sir," said Ruehrdanz, "we can't take him back whatever happens."--"You
have been guilty of a great crime this morning, and it'll go hard
with you if you stick to it."--"That may be; but if you speak of
crime, Mr. Pomuchelskopp has treated us much worse than we've treated
him."--"You've allowed your heads to be stuffed with nonsense by some
foolish people in the Reform-club."--"Don't be angry, your worship,
people say that of us, but it isn't true. Why? Mr. Pomuchelskopp
himself is a member of the Reform-club, and he made a speech too, but
he told a string of lies in his speech, no one knows that better than
we do."--"But what do you intend to do?"--"Mr. Gustavus is at Guerlitz
and when he tells us to do this or that, we'll obey him; but Willgans
and I want to go to the Grand Duke and tell him all about it, so
we would like you to give us the proper papers."--"What sort of
papers?"--"Ah, your worship, don't be angry with me, it doesn't matter
what they are. You see I was once sent to the old station without
papers--and of course they turned me out--our Grand Duke isn't a
station, and he'd never be so rude, so if we go without papers you can
show him your nose, father Willgans, and tell him how that woman
treated you, and I'll show my honest hands that have never taken what
didn't belong to them."--The old man then left the room, and joined the
other labourers outside. They all felt their pockets and drew out what
pence and halfpence they possessed. They gave them to Ruehrdanz and
said: "Now go! go straight to Schwerin!" and: "Don't forget to tell
about Kapphingst's daughter!" and: "If he asks you how we have lived,
tell him honestly that we never stole from our master, but that we
sometimes took a few of Mrs. Nuessler's potatoes, and she never blamed
us."
The two labourers then set out for Schwerin, and the other villagers
returned home, while John Joseph drove the empty carriage after them.
The crowd that had collected round the mayor's door to see what was
to be seen, for the news of Pomuchelskopp's arrest had spread like
wild-fire, now separated, and uncle Braesig said to Hawermann as soon as
he got back: "Well, Charles, he hasn't escaped his judge. I joined the
crowd for a little, not for his sake, but because of those poor
ignorant labourers. As soon as I saw him safe in the mayor's house I
came away for I didn't care to see his humiliation."
Pomuchelskopp, his wife and daughters took up their abode at
Grammelin's and the former, when he saw his family settled down, went
to Slus'uhr's bedroom and bemoaned his hard fate. Slus'uhr had been
obliged to remain at Grammelin's in consequence of the thrashing he had
had on the previous evening, as otherwise he could not have made out
such a good case of assault against Braesig. "I have sent for the doctor
and am going to make him examine me that I may have a better case
against Mr. Braesig. Strump isn't at home, but the other doctor will be
here very soon."--"How lucky you are!" said Muchel. "Well," answered
the attorney, twisting round on his other side, "I didn't quite look
upon it in that light. I don't see any great piece of luck in getting a
sound thrashing with a black thorn stick at least an inch in
thickness."--"You can have your revenge, while I--wretched man that I
am, can do nothing."--"You should send for a guard of soldiers and
that'll frighten your fellows out of their lives, and if you don't
like to go home at once, send your wife on before, she'll have
everything in order by the time you're ready to follow, I'll answer for
that."--"Mercy, what do you propose? No, no! I've had enough of it.
Puempelhagen has escaped me, and I'll never go back to Guerlitz;
they'll set fire to the house when I'm in it, I know they will. No,
no! I'll sell, I'll sell!"--"Have you heard the news," asked David
coming into the room, and hearing the last words he added, "yes,
you're right. If you sell the place I'll manage everything for you, I
know ...."--"Infamous Jewish rascal!" groaned Slus'uhr, getting into a
new position, "Ugh! mercy!--Don't you think we can manage it between
us? Yes, Mr. Pomuchelskopp, you must sell, for even if they spare the
dwelling house, they're sure to burn the stacks and barns, for you've
got into a regular scrape."--"Now, Mr. Slus'uhr," said David, "you've
made a little money I know, and you can conduct the sale of a farm, or
a mill; but this is a large estate, and my father must manage the
arrangements for Mr. Pomuchelskopp."--"Your father! When he hears that
it's for Pomuchelskopp, he'll refuse to act. We three are in very bad
odour with him."--"If I tell him," began David, but at this moment the
doctor came in, and he was Anna's father. "Good morning, you sent for
me," he said turning to Slus'uhr, "what can I do for you?"--"Ah doctor,
you were at the ball yesterday too. Oh I'm in such pain! You must have
heard ...."--"He has had a good thrashing," said David, "and I was a
witness. He was very severely beaten."--"Hold your confounded tongue,"
shouted Slus'uhr. "Doctor, I want you to examine me carefully, I'm
afraid that I shall never regain the use of my limbs." The doctor made
no reply, but went to his patient, and pulling his shirt off his back,
saw some very distinct lines scored in red, such as are not to be seen
on every human back. Pomuchelskopp sat still, and folded his hands in
deep commiseration, but a flash of pleasure lighted up his face when he
saw the red weals. David sprang to his feet: "Merciful Jehovah! What a
sight!" he exclaimed. "You must examine me too, doctor, for Schulz the
carpenter dragged me out from under the table and tore my new coat
right down the middle."--"You'd better send for the tailor then,"
answered the doctor quietly, and turning again to the attorney, he
said: "I'll go down to Grammelin's coffee-room and write you a
certificate. Good morning, gentlemen." He then left the room, and soon
afterwards the housemaid brought in a paper, which she said the doctor
had desired her to take to Mr. Slus'uhr. The attorney opened it and
read:
"This is to certify, that Mr. attorney Slus'uhr has had a thorough good
thrashing as the marks on his back show beyond dispute, but it has done
him no real harm.
N. N. M. D."
"Does the fellow write that about me?" stormed the attorney, "'it has
done me no harm' for sooth!--Just wait and I'll have something to say
to you elsewhere!"--"But," cried David, "surely it's much better that
the beating shouldn't have done you harm, than that you should have
been maimed."--"You're an idiot! What's the good of lying here any
longer though?" said Slus'uhr. "Pardon me, but I must get up, and
repay Mr. Braesig for his blows by sending him--a letter demanding
damages."--"Don't forget, my friend, that you've to write to
Puempelhagen for me to day," said Pomuchelskopp. "Trust me to remember.
I feel so savage, I'd like to write a good many more such letters.
Hav'n't you anything for me to do in that line, David?"--"Whenever I
have anything to write I do it myself, and when I have nothing to
write, I leave it alone," said David, leaving the room with
Pomuchelskopp.