An Old Story of My Farming Days Vol. 2 (of 3). / (Ut Mine Stromtid)

by Fritz Reuter

CHAPTER XVI.

There was great joy in Joseph Nüssler's house. Godfrey was elected, he was to have the living of Gürlitz. And to whom did he especially owe his election? Why to our good simple-minded old friend Pomuchelskopp, to be sure. His was the casting vote. Three divinity students preached one after the other, each anxiously struggling so to interpret the Word of God as to please the congregation, and prove himself most worthy of obtaining the living. "Henny," said Pomuchelskopp, when Godfrey had finished his sermon, and was passing his handkerchief over his white face, "Henny," he said, "we'll choose this one, for he's the stupidest."--"How can you be sure," asked his loving wife, "does one fool always know another when he sees him?"--"My chuck," said Pomuchelskopp, overlooking his affectionate wife's pleasantry, either because he was so accustomed to her little jokes, or because Godfrey's sermon had touched him, for Godfrey had preached on the text: "Forgive your enemies."--"Henny, listen. The first of these students, the one with the red face, is a son of old farmer Hamann, and custom is a great thing, you'll see that fellow will work his own glebe; the second, look, there he is, was seen examining the glebe by Gustavus, and was heard asking the parsonage-coachman, who had charge of the barns, for the roofs were in bad order. There'd be no hope with either of these; the rector's son is the man for us."--"He who reckons wrong, reckons without his host," said Henny drily.--"I hav'n't done so at any rate," answered Pomuchelskopp, "Mr. von Rambow and Nüssler have both given me a written agreement not to take the land, the young man can't farm himself, he's far too stupid for that, and the ground is too small to make it worth while for any one to take it by itself. He must let it to me, I am sure of getting it, and I can say to him: So much, and not a penny more!"--So Godfrey was elected, for almost all the votes were given to him, only one or two of the oldest labourers at Rexow gave their votes to their master, Joseph Nüssler. But that was merely an oversight and made no difference, for it was all in the family.

So, as I said before, there was great joy in Joseph Nüssler's house. The twins basked in the sunshine of happiness, and made plans for the future. Mina was quite as happy as Lina though she had not the same cause. Still she could not help remembering that her father had said one day when he came from the fields, that he found the sole management of the farm too hard work, and only wished that Rudolph were far enough on to be able to come and help him. Her mother had certainly answered that he ought to be ashamed of himself for saying such a thing, for he was still a young man, and he had replied that he would go on by himself a little longer. But still Mina saw that her father would really like to have Rudolph there, and so it would come to pass sooner or later. Lina's things were all ready, the trousseau was prepared, and Mrs. Nüssler's sitting-room looked more like a shop than anything else, Spinning, knitting, sewing, embroidering, crocheting were going on there, bales of goods were unwound and then wound up again. Every one was busy, even young Joseph and young Bolster. Young Joseph had to help to wind skeins of wool or cotton. He sat straight up with his pipe in his mouth, and a skein of knitting cotton over his hands, his wife stood in front of him, and wound it into a ball. Then he had a little rest, but when Lina or Mina came in he had to begin again. And young Bolster did not escape; if ever any one had cause to curse the marriage it was he; he was continually being tramped on and tumbled over, and at last came to the conclusion that it was better on the whole to take up his abode in the yard than in the parlour until the trousseau was finished.

"Well," said Mrs. Nüssler one evening as she laid her hands in her lap, "the marriage may take place to-morrow, Bräsig, for all I care. I'm ready."--"Then," answered Bräsig, "you needn't put off any longer, for no doubt the methodist and Lina are ready when you are."--"Ah, Bräsig, that shows how little you know about it. The chief thing is still wanting. The government hasn't given its consent--what's the right word for it--to the election as yet"--"Oh, yes, I know what you mean, 'confirmed his call,' as they say now-a-days; for my own part, I consider 'vocated' a better word, we always used it long ago when the late parson Behrens came to the parish, but it has gone out of fashion now."--At this moment Christian, the coachman, came in, and said: "Good-evening, Mistress, here are the newspapers."--"Wer'n't there any letters at the post-office?" asked Mrs. Nüssler.--"Yes," said Christian, "there was one letter."--"Why didn't you bring it?"--"Nay!" said Christian scornfully, as if to show that that was too great a piece of folly for him to have been guilty of, "they asked such a ransom for it, that I hadn't enough, money to pay for it."--"How much was it?"--"One pound four! What do you say to that? They said there was a post-mark, or a post-stamp, or something of that kind on it. It came in the mail-cart, and is addressed to the young gentleman, I mean our Miss Lina's bridegroom."--"Good gracious, Christian! What a dear letter! Who can it be from, I wonder?"--"I know," said Christian, "but I don't intend to tell," and he glanced at Bräsig.--"You may speak out before Mr. Bräsig," said his mistress.--"Very well," answered Christian. "It was from a woman, but I've forgotten her name."--"Mercy!" cried Mrs. Nüssler. "From a woman! To my future son-in-law! And costing one pound four!"--"A common occurrence!" said Bräsig. "A common occurrence, even amongst methodists!"--"So it is!" said Christian, preparing to leave the room.--"Christian," and Mrs. Nüssler rose, "you must take the rye to Rahnstädt tomorrow, ask particularly what name it is at the post-office, and I'll give you the money, for I must have the letter."--"Very well, mistress," said Christian, going away, "if you want it, you shall have it."--"Bräsig," exclaimed Mrs. Nüssler, throwing herself back into her wicker-chair, and making it groan loudly, "what has my son-in-law to do with women's letters?"--"I don't know," said Bräsig. "I hav'n't the slightest idea, and I never trouble my head about secrets. Wait till the end, and you're sure to know."--"But," said Mrs. Nüssler, "Godfrey's such a quiet sort of fellow."--"Methodists ar'n't to be trusted," replied Bräsig, "never put faith in a Jesuit!"--"Bräsig," cried Mrs. Nüssler, springing to her feet so suddenly that her old chair gave a loud creak, "if there's any secret, I'll take my child back. If Rudolph had got into a scrape, I'd have forgiven him, for he's a thoughtless lad, but not hypocritical. But Godfrey! No. Not as long as I live. A man who pretends to be so much better than his neighbours, and then--no, let him keep away from me and mine. I'll have nothing to do with a man of that kind."

When Godfrey appeared at the supper-table, his future mother-in-law looked at him from head to foot, and from side to side, as if he had been trying to cheat her into taking false coin for true. And when Godfrey begged Lina to bring a glass of fresh water to him in his room after supper, Mrs. Nüssler interposed and said, that Lina had something else to do, so he turned to Mary, the parlour-maid, and asked her to do it, but Mrs. Nüssler told him he had better go to the pump for it himself, it was no further for him to go than for Mary. Thus she drew a magic circle round him, over which no woman must venture.

The next day when they were all at dinner, the coachman came to the door, and signing to Mrs. Nüssler, said: "Oh, if you please, mistress, I want to speak to you for a moment."--Mrs. Nüssler at once signed to Bräsig, and the two old friends went out into the porch with Christian.--"Well?" asked Mrs. Nüssler.--"Here it is," said Christian, pulling a large letter out of his pocket, "and I know the woman's name too."--"Well?" asked Mrs. Nüssler again.--"Yes," whispered Christian in his mistress' ear, "her Christian name is 'Minnie,' and her family name is 'Stry.'"--"What? Mini--stry?" cried Mrs. Nüssler.--"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Bräsig, pulling the letter out of Mrs. Nüssler's hand. "That comes of ignorant people meddling with outlandish words; this is the vocatation from the ministry," and opening the parlour-door, he shouted: "Hurrah! You old methodist you! The marriage is to be next week."--And Mrs. Nüssler threw her arms round Godfrey's neck, kissed him, and said: "Godfrey, dear Godfrey, I've done you great wrong; but never mind, Godfrey, Lina shall bring you some water every evening, and the marriage shall be whenever you like."--"Bless me!" said Godfrey. "What is ....."--"Nay, Godfrey, I can't explain, it's too hard for me, but I'll tell you when you've been married three years."

So the wedding took place, and I might tell how Mina and Lina had a good cry together after the ceremony was over; how nice Godfrey looked when Lina had cut his hair properly; how Mrs. Nüssler assured every one who came near her that she was not bit tired, which meant that she was completely worn out. But I'll tell nothing about the marriage that I did not see myself, and there is one thing I can vouch for having seen it, and that is, that at half-past three the two old friends, young Joseph and young Bolster, lay down on the sofa together, and fell fast asleep.

Hawermann was at the marriage, but was very quiet and sad; Louisa was there also, her heart full of love for her little Lina, and she was very quiet too, but quietly happy. Mrs. Behrens had refused the invitation sent her, but just as all the company were giving three cheers for the bride and bridegroom, the door opened, and Mrs. Behrens came into the room in her widow's weeds. She threw her arms round Lina's neck, and said: "I am glad that you are to have it, very very glad; and I pray that you may be as happy as I was. You are now the nearest," Then she kissed her and patted her on the shoulder, and after that turned away and hastened out of the room without looking at any one else. As soon as she was in the passage she called: "Hawermann," but she need not have done that for he was already by her side, and after helping her into the carriage, he took his place beside her, and so they drove back to Gürlitz.

They got out of the carriage at the entrance to the church-yard, and walked together to the quiet green grave, there they stood hand in hand silently gazing at it and at the flowers that were growing on it. As they turned to go away little Mrs. Behrens said with a deep sigh: "I am ready now, Hawermann." They got into the carriage again and drove to Rahnstädt. "Louisa knows all about it," she said, "and will follow me tomorrow with the things." They went together into the new house, and little Mrs. Behrens kissed Hawermann, and thanked him for his kindness to her in having made everything look so like the dear old parsonage. She went to the window, and looking out, said: "Yes, it's very very like; all is here except the grave."--They looked out of the window for a long time in silence, at last Hawermann took her hand and said: "Mrs. Behrens, I have a great favour to ask of you. I have given Mr. von Rambow warning and am to leave him at Christmas. Will you let me have the garret, and will you allow me to board with you?"--If it had not been such a sad moment for them both' she would have asked a number of questions, and would have talked the whole thing over, but as it was she only said: "Your home is always wherever Louisa and I are. You are the nearest to us both."

It is ever thus in the world; what brings joy to one, brings sorrow to another, and marriage and death go side by side, although the difference between them is greater than between summer and winter. There are some people to be found with such beautiful dispositions, that in spite of their loss being the other's gain, or of their having gained by the other's loss, their love to each other forms a bridge over the abyss which might have separated them, but which their generous love has changed into a firm bond of union. And of this Mrs. Behrens and Lina were a bright example. Each clung to the other with a comprehending love and sympathy that never failed as long as they lived.

And our old friend Godfrey did his part to strengthen the ties binding Mrs. Behrens to her old home. In his first sermon also it must be confessed that he thought less of himself than of the example his predecessor had always showed, so that when Bräsig came out of church he stroked Lina's cheek and kissed Mina, saying: "He is growing much more sensible. Methodists are often quite reasonable mortals; but they're the devil's own. I once knew a Methodist, I mean parson Mehlsack, who was really a good sort of man, but he had given himself so completely to the devil that he no longer preached about God; and as for the parson over in the beautiful Cracow districts, he proved padagraphically that there are three hundred and thirty three separate devils rushing about the world, without counting the regular devil and his grandmother. Now look here, Lina, this is the chief discomfort for the like of us in such matters. Suppose that you, and some of your friends seat yourselves round a bowl of punch in Rahnstädt, and you finish that bowl, and then another, and another, and a gentleman in a brown surtout seats himself beside you--the devil always wears a brown surtout, it's part of the contract that he should do so--and talks to you pleasantly the whole evening, and when you wake next morning, you see the same gentleman standing before you, and he says to you, says he: 'Good morning, my friend, you signed a paper for me last night,' he then shows you his cloven foot, and if he's in a good humour, he lets you have a sight of his tail, and flips you playfully over the ears with it, and so you become his heritable property. That's the way with honest Methodists, and with the other's it's even worse I can tell you."

So Godfrey and his wife took up their abode at the parsonage, and Mina of course went to pay them a visit. It sometimes happened when Godfrey came into the parlour in the dusk that he gave Mina a kiss by mistake, but it did not matter, for it was all in the family. A short time after the young couple went to their new home, Pomuchelskopp, his wife, Mally and Sally went to return the clergyman's call, and to try to get the lease of the glebe. Pomuchelskopp offered Godfrey half as much as Mr. von Rambow had given for the land, and his wife declared that it wasn't worth a penny more, for Joseph Nüssler had refused to take it. Godfrey bowed, and was going to have said: "Yes," when Lina started up out of her sofa corner, and said: "Wait a moment! I've got something to say to that. We must ask the advice of some one who understands the matter," and she called out at the door: "Uncle Bräsig, please come here."--So he came in dressed in a loose linen coat, and taking his stand right in front of his old school-fellow who was wearing his blue coat and brass buttons, asked: "What's the matter?"--Lina went up to him: "Uncle Bräsig," she said, "need the glebe be let. I should so like to farm it myself."--"Then it shan't be let, my dear little Lina," he said, stooping and kissing her, "I will farm it myself."--"I won't have any small tenant," cried Pomuchelskopp.--"Don't be afraid, Samuel--a--don't be afraid, Mr. Samuel, I am only going to be his reverence's bailiff."--"Mr. Nüssler signed a paper giving me the land...."--"No, showing what a fool you are," said Henny, thrusting her husband out of the room.

"My dear parson," said uncle Bräsig as he and Godfrey were walking in the garden, "you have not to thank me for having made this arrangement, it was all Lina's doing. It is a marvel to me how positive these innocent little creatures grow when once they're married. Well, perhaps it's better to trust everything to them, they always know best. Most probably you will wish to talk me out of my hatred of certain people, for you no doubt preach from the Christian standpoint of holding out your left cheek to the man who struck you on the right cheek, but I tell you that there must be hatred; where there is no hatred there can be no love, and I don't at all approve of the story of the right and left cheeks. I confess that I can hate; I hate Samuel Pomuchelskopp!--How?--What?--Why?--Wouldn't you hate him if he treated you as he treats me?"--"My dear Sir, the wickedness of the principles you have just ....." he was about to have vindicated his right to be a clergyman by giving the old bailiff as severe a lecture, as he had done on a former occasion about fishing, when fortunately Lina came up and throwing her arms round her old friend's neck, exclaimed: "Uncle Bräsig, dear uncle Bräsig, how are we ever to thank you for giving up your quiet life for our sake."--"Don't distress yourself, Lina. Love is as strong as hatred. Did you notice that I called Pomuchelskopp, Mr. Samuel, although he was really christened Samivel, which is a much grander name."--"No, no," interrupted Godfrey, "he must have been christened Samuel."--"No, reverend Sir, 'Samuel' is a Jewish name, and although he is really a Jew, that is, a white one, he was christened Samivel, and his wife's name is Canary."--"Uncle Bräsig," laughed Lina, "what a funny way of pronouncing it. Her name is Cornelia."--"It's quite possible, Lina, that she may call herself that now, for she may well be ashamed of the ugliness of her real name, but I know that I'm right. When the old parson at Bobzin died, and the clerk was taking the register-books for the new clergyman to look at, I saw amongst the entries: 'Mr. Samivel Pomuchelskopp to Miss Canary Kläterpott,' so you see that you see she was a Kläterpott, and a Canary too.--But that's enough of her, Lina, she has got nothing to do with us, and you and I will do everything capitally together and will have a happy union in farming matters. You must give me the small corner room overlooking the yard, and the devil himself must take part against me, if Godfrey isn't able to farm his own land after a year and a day. Good-bye, for the present. I know of two good milch-cows which I shall at once secure, then I'll get those two horses from old Prebberow, and we'd better keep George, Mr. Behrens' former servant, for he's a splendid dickshun'ry of the management of horses and cattle. Good-bye," and he went away, old heathen that he was, in his clinging to his hatred.

Whoever maintains that he has a right to hate another man, must be content to be hated in his turn, and no one was so hated on that day as uncle Bräsig himself.

When the Pomuchelskopps were at home again, Henny began to stroke the quiet father of the family and Mecklenburg law-giver the wrong way, and stung him with her sharp words as though with thorns and nettles. She continually taunted him in the words of her favourite proverb: "Ah, yes, Kopp," she would say, "you're as wise as the Danish horse which always came home three days before it began to rain!"--At last the much enduring man could bear it no longer, he sprang to his feet, exclaiming: "Mally, have I not always been a kind father to you?"--But Mally was too deeply ingrossed in the Rostock paper to be able to answer.--"Sally," he cried, "can I help the world being so wicked?"--But Sally stitched and sewed the body of a little cupid in her worsted work so diligently that she could only sigh and look as if she were sorry her father was not like the cupid in her work that she might run her needle into him after her mother's example. Gustavus then came in clattering a slate against a board, as if he had been sent for to play an accompaniment to the family drama.

But when things get to a certain pass they become unbearable! Human nature cannot deny the argument of a stick, and our old friend was now determined to show his rebellious family that he was master in his own house; having thus asserted himself he rushed out of doors and left them alone. He hastened into the garden, and up to the sundial, but he found no comfort there. He had certainly showed his own flesh and blood that he would not be bullied, but that did not make him happier, for there before his very eyes lay the glebe, the beautiful glebe. And beyond that was Pümpelhagen. Both of these were his by rights, for had he not paid three hundred pounds for the glebe, and how much more to Slus'uhr, to David and to that wretch Mr. von Rambow! He could not bear the sight, and turning round, gazed up into the blue sky, and asked himself if there was any justice on the face of the earth. At that moment Phil came to him, and pulled him by the tail of his blue coat--for in putting Henny down, he had for the time being put an end to all order in the house--and told him that Mr. von Rambow was there, and wanted to speak to him.

Mr. von Rambow? Ah, ha! He had some one now whom he could bully, he would make him pay for all the discomfort he had suffered that morning at the hands of his own family. Mr. von Rambow? Well! He was about to have gone to him, when his visitor stood before him: "Good morning, Mr. Pomuchelskopp. I hope I see you well--I came to hear what arrangements you had made about the glebe."--Ah! The glebe! Wait, I mustn't let him guess, and Pomuchelskopp looked slyly down to the point of his nose without making any reply.--"Well," said Alick, "how is it settled?"--But Pomuchelskopp made no answer, and continued to gaze down his nose as if it were a mile long, and he had not nearly reached the end of it yet.--"What's the matter with you, neighbour? I hope it's all right."--"I hope so too," answered Muchel, stooping to pull up a weed, "at least the three hundred pounds I lent you are all right?"--"Why?" stammered Alick in amazement, "but what has that to do with it?"--Wait, Alick. Do not be in such a hurry. Wait. He wants to plague you a little. What must be, must be.--"Mr. von Rambow," said Muchel pulling up another fine weed, and then turning to his visitor with a flushed face, "Mr. von Rambow, you got the three hundred pounds, and I was to have had the glebe, but I hav'n't got it."--"Why, you were so sure of it ..." began Alick.--"Not nearly so sure as you. You got the three hundred pounds--didn't you now? You got the money I say--and I," here he tapped his left foot impatiently on the ground and muttered the next words in a low gruff tone that seemed to come from the lowest region of his stomach, "and I, have been taken in!"--"But ...."--"You needn't say 'but' to me, I've heard enough 'buts' this morning. Let us talk of bills instead," here he groped in his pocket, "Oh, Ah, I see I have another coat on, my pocket-book isn't here. I've had one of your bills for the last three weeks."--"But, Mr. Pomuchelskopp, pray--why do you speak to me about it to-day? It isn't my fault that you didn't get the lease of the glebe."--It was all of no use. He had better have been quiet. Pomuchelskopp had heard too much that day of the glebe, so he pretended not to hear Alick's last words, and said: "I am a kind-hearted man, and am always willing to do what I can for my friends. People say that I'm rich, but I am not rich enough to be able to throw away money. There's time enough for that, But, Mr. von Rambow, I must see, I must see something. I must see to my business, and when a man signs a bill, he must see ...."--"Oh, Mr. Pomuchelskopp," cried Alick in great anxiety, "I forgot all about it. Indeed ..... I didn't remember."--"Oh," said Muchel. "You didn't remember? But a man ought to remember such things, and ...." he suddenly stopped himself before he had said too much, for his eye fell on Pümpelhagen--no--He must take care--He must not shake the tree before the plums were ripe. "And," he went on, "I have to thank that fellow Bräsig for my disappointment. That's all the reward I get for the kindness I showed the man when he was a lad. I lent him money to buy a watch. I gave him trousers when his own were torn, and now? Ah! I know what it is, it's all that sly rascal Hawermann's fault."

If you give the devil one finger, he seizes your whole hand, and then he leads you where he wills, and if he desires it, you must fall on your knees before him, and entreat him for mercy in your abject misery and gnawing pain. So it was with Alick. He was obliged to agree with Pomuchelskopp, for he had now to row in the same boat with him, and so he joined him in his accusations of Bräsig and Hawermann. Why? Because Pomuchelskopp held his bills and had therefore the whip hand of him. The light-hearted, gallant young officer of a few years back, was gone, and in his stead was a broken spirited man who tried by telling all the scandalous stories he had heard of the two old bailiffs to propitiate the Moloch who stood beside him in a blue coat and brass buttons. He had betrayed his best friend. He had spoken falsely. As he thought of what he had done while he was riding home, he felt a bitter contempt of himself rising up in his heart, and he rode quickly in order to leave the house where he had behaved so basely as far behind him as possible.

He rode home, and when he came to his fields where Hawermann was at work, he saw the old bailiff standing in the full heat of the sun beside the sowing machine, getting everything in order. When he saw that, he felt as if coals of fire were burning his head. When he had gone a little further he met a man in a linen coat, and saw that it was uncle Bräsig. Bräsig was standing by the wall and shouting across the field: "Good day, Charles. Here I am at the old work, I'm going to buy some cows, and everything is getting into good order. We're going to farm ourselves, and Samuel Pomuchelskopp is out in his reckoning." At that moment he heard Alick's horse, and turned round to see who was there. The remorse Alick felt for what he had done made him speak more kindly than usual: "How d'ye do, Mr. Bräsig. You're always on your legs?"--"Why not, Mr. von Rambow? They do me good service in spite of gout now and then, and as I've undertaken to manage farming matters for the young people at the parsonage, I am on my way to Gülzow, to get a couple of milch-cows from farmer Pagel for the parson."--"You know all about such things of course, Mr. Bräsig," said Alick wishing to be civil.--"Yes, thank God, I know pretty well. We farmers have only to give a glance at a field and we can see whether it has been properly treated. Look, I was over there yesterday," pointing to the paddocks, "I went past the fence, and I saw that the mare and foal were quite starved, and no wonder. Some one steals the oats out of their manger and if you want to put a stop to that, you'll have to have a lock put on it."--Alick looked at him; was it not pure love of aggravation that made him say that? Naturally! He gave his horse a touch of the spur: "Good-bye," he said and rode away.--Bräsig looked after him: "If he's too great a fool to take the hint, he needn't do it. I meant him well. It seems to me as if the young nobleman does not want God's .... nay, I oughtn't to say that. He'll come to his senses at last, but he'll have much to suffer first. Charles," he shouted across the field, "he has given me another hint to mind my own business!" Then he went away to buy the cows.