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

by Fritz Reuter

CHAPTER VIII.

When Bräsig had told Hawermann and Mrs. Behrens all the news he had picked up at Rexow and Gürlitz, and had answered all their questions, he rose to go away again: "Don't be angry with me, Mrs. Behrens, or you either, Charles, but you see I must go to the club as soon as I have put on another pair of boots. You should come with me, Charles. We're going to choose a new president this evening, for the old one, as he himself confesses, is quite lost amongst us, I'm going to vote for lawyer Rein.--Do you know him? He's a nice fellow, and a man of the world; besides that I must say he's a bit of a wag. Then we have to decide a very important question--rector Baldrian says that it has a strong connection with the spirit of the times--I mean that we want to discover the cause of the large amount of poverty there is in the world. You should come with me, Charles." But Hawermann was not to be persuaded, so Bräsig went alone.

The first person Bräsig recognised on entering the hall of meeting was--Samuel Pomuchelskopp, who hurried forward to greet him, saying: "How d'ye do, brother! How are you, Zachariah?" Only a few people saw the expression of Bräsig's face when the squire of Gürlitz thus addressed him, and of those who saw, hardly anyone understood the meaning of what he had seen; but Bank the shoemaker told me about it: "Fritz," he said, "his face looked for all the world as if it had been reflected in a shoemaker's-ball. His mouth was as large again as it is by nature, his nose was twice as thick as usual and his face was glowing like a furnace. Can't you imagine what he looked like when he answered: 'Mr. Samuel Pomuchelskopp we are not on sufficiently intimate terms for you to address me so familiarly.' Well, he looked exactly like the picture of old Hofer, landlord of the Sands in the Tyrol, which is hanging on the coffee room wall of Fuchs' inn at Ivenack, except that he hadn't a musket in his hand. Then he turned his back upon Mr. Pomuchelskopp, and what a back! went to the election table and gave his vote in a loud clear voice that could be heard all over the hall, saying: 'I vote for Mr. Rein (pure) for our cause and actions must be pure, and if a scoundrel should chance to come in amongst us, he must be turned out' No one understood what he referred to, but there was a dead silence, for everyone knew that something had happened. When he went back to his seat everyone made way for him, because he looked like a bull ready to toss whoever opposed him, but he sat down quietly in his place, and every member of the club knows all that went on afterwards."--That was what Jack Bank told me, and I believe that he told the truth, for he was a great friend of mine and an honourable man although he was only a shoemaker. He was murdered by a ruffian while still a comparatively young man when he was standing up for the right. I mention this fact although it has nothing to do with my story, because he was my friend, and because I don't wish his virtues to be known only from the epitaph on his grave stone.

So Zachariah Bräsig seated himself in an out of the way corner of the hall looking like a thunder storm that might burst at any moment. Mr. Rein was elected president, so he rang the bell, crept into the vat or pulpit, thanked the members of the club for having done him the honour of electing him as their president and then added: "Gentlemen, before we enter on the question of the evening regarding the origin of poverty, allow me to mention that Mr. Pomuchelskopp of Gürlitz has applied for admission as member of this Reform club. I believe that no one has any reason to oppose his being admitted as one of us."--"Ah," cried a voice behind him sharply, "are you so sure of that? I beg to be allowed to speak," and when the new president turned round he saw uncle Bräsig standing beside the pulpit. "Let Mr. Bailiff Bräsig say what he has to say," answered the president, so uncle Bräsig clambered into the pulpit and began: "Fellow-citizens, how long is it since we swore to maintain liberty, equality, and fraternity in this hall, which used to be Grammelin's dancing saloon? I will say nothing just now about liberty, although I have no room to move in this confounded barrel; of equality I will also say nothing, for our new president shows us a good example in that respect by always wearing a grey coat, instead of going about in a blue surtout with brass buttons like some people; but it is of fraternity that I am going to speak. Fellow-citizens, let me ask if it is brotherly conduct for a man to threaten to have his neighbour's boots pulled off, and to leave his fellow man to hop home barefoot through the snow, and if there should be no snow, through the mud? Is it brotherly to be proud of saying such things? and of making a fool of another? I ask you if that is brotherly conduct? and I tell you that Mr. Samuel Pomuchelskopp is a brother after that fashion. I will say no more." He descended the pulpit and blew a long trumpet blast of defiance upon his nose. Wimmersdorf the tailor was the next to speak, he said that it was a great honour to the Rahnstädt Reform club that it was now to number a large landowner amongst its members; as far as he knew Mr. Pomuchelskopp was the only squire in their ranks, for Mr. von Zanzel was not to be counted although he had an estate and was a member of the club, as he neither bought anything in Rahnstädt nor had anything made there. He therefore voted for Mr. Pomuchelskopp's admission. "Bravo!" was shouted by many voices. "Wimmersdorf is right. You're right lad. How can we expect to live if we don't uphold such people?"--"I don't agree with you," said Schulz the carpenter letting his head appear above the edge of the pulpit by slow degrees, like that of a fat old snail out of a shell which has become rather a tight fit. "That's all nonsense, Wimmersdorf, great nonsense. If the Gürlitz potentate had ever troubled himself about us before, if he had paid his bills at once it would have been all very well, but he needs us now. If he were outvoted, would he go out modestly? I tell you no! And why? Because he is a great Mogul. Away with him, I say, away with him!" Then the snail crept back into its shell, but its speech had had a great effect. "Out with him! Out with him!" cried several voices, while others shouted: "Go on! Begin again from the beginning!" and a mischievous journeyman shoemaker sang in a loud clear voice:

"Little snail, pray don't be shy
Point your four-fold horns on high!"

But Schulz was much too wise to show himself again, he knew that he might only weaken the decided effect his speech had made if he said any more, so he took his stand by Bräsig at the back of the pulpit and joined him in shouting: "Out, out!" They would certainly have gained the day if the devil had not sent David and Slus'uhr to take their places in the speaker's pulpit, where they now made their appearance their upper lips adorned with moustachios to show their liberal principles. These two then proceeded to sing Pomuchelskopp's praises as though to the music of a psaltery and fiddle. Slus'uhr called the squire of Gürlitz: "An angel of charity."--"Yes, a fine solid angel!" cried the witty journeyman shoemaker--he had helped many a poor man in Rahnstädt (Slus'uhr did not think it necessary to mention that his friend had charged ten per cent interest for these little loans) and he was willing to do even more than that for the town. David sang a song to the same tune, but perhaps his eulogies were even more highly coloured and spiced than those of the attorney: "Gentlemen!" he began, making at the same time a peculiarly low bow to the witty shoemaker as if to ask him to be silent and let him go on: "Gentlemen, consider, only consider the weal of the whole town. Look here, per primo, there's Mr. Pomuchelskopp in person, and then there's Mrs. Pomuchelskopp--a horribly clever woman she is too!--then there are Miss Sally and Miss Mally, Mr. Gustavus, Mr. Anthony and Mr. Philip; then come Miss Mary, Miss Sophie and Miss Milly and the little Masters Christian and Josy, and last of all there's the baby. Wait a bit, I hav'n't done yet--then there are the housemaids, cooks and nursery maids, and the wenches who attend to the pigs--now who else is there?--then come the coachman, the grooms and the cowherd--there's something else he needs? Why shouldn't he need something? Every one does! You all require coats and trousers, shoes and boots, stockings, shirts and night shirts. In cold weather you must have warm coats, and in warm weather, light coats. Then on Palm Sunday when you are confirmed you must have good coats, and at Christmas likewise. Ah yes, have I not always said that this Christ you worship must have been a great man? How busy everyone is at Christmas time! We fill our shops and keep all sorts of beautiful things. Who buys them from us? Mr. Pomuchelskopp to be sure! I'll say no more." And indeed it was not necessary for him to say more, for no sooner had he finished his speech than all the shoemakers and tailors began in thought to make shoes and boots for the little Pomuchelskopps, and to sew trousers and coats for them, while the shopkeepers imagined themselves doing a large business with Muchel, and Kurz went so far as to sell him half the contents of his shop--in thought.

But in spite of all this Bräsig and Schulz cried out the more: "Out! out!"--To which others replied: "No, remain!"--"Out! out!"--"Remain!"--At last there was a frightful uproar. The material interests of Rahnstädt in the shape of Pomuchelskopp's boots, trousers, &c. opposed the ideal of fraternity; it was a hard battle.--At last the president's bell produced a lull, and Mr. Rein began: "Gentlemen!" he said--"Out! out!"--"No, stay!"--"Gentlemen," he said once more, "God be thanked!"--"Out! out!"--"Stay!"--"Thank God, the opinion of this assembly has already been so clearly expressed that we may at once proceed to voting. So: Let all who wish to admit Mr. Pomuchelskopp into our club go to the musician's platform, and let the rest go to the other side."--The members of the Rahnstädt Reform-club were now all in motion. They stamped their feet as hard as they could on the floor as they walked, in order to show how firmly their minds were made up. It sounded in the distance as if Grammelin had set a fuller's mill to work on his premises, the consequences of which act would soon be seen, for Grammelin rushed in and exclaimed: "Mr. President, my lads, I entreat you to choose another way, a quieter way of voting!"--"What!" cried Thiel, the cabinetmaker. "We must vote or this wouldn't be a Reform-club."--"That's quite true, Thiel, but your voting is bringing down the plaster of my ceiling."--They all saw that it was true and so they agreed to Grammelin's request to vote with their hands instead of their feet.

The votes were counted and Pomuchelskopp was admitted to be a member of the Rahnstädt Reform-club,--Schulz, the carpenter, turned to Bräsig: "Ah, Mr. Bräsig," he said, "if things go on like this, what's to become of Germany?"--"I don't care," said Bräsig, "but don't let anyone talk to me of fraternity."

Then the question of the origin of poverty was brought forward. The president put the subject clearly before the meeting thus: "When did poverty first show itself in the world, and why does it still exist?"--Rector Baldrian was the first speaker. He mounted the pulpit from behind like everyone else, and as soon as he had taken his place, he leant forward and took a large bundle of books from his head pupil that he might the better prove the truth of his statements. When he had arranged before him on the ledge, the Bible, Xenophon, Plato, Aristotle, Livy, Tacitus, and as many volumes of Cicero as he happened to possess, he made a bow, and said that these books were an army of authorities he had brought to help him.--"Ah, lad," said John Bank to Deichert, the shoemaker, "it'll be slow work now, I know the man, let's each send for another glass of beer before he begins."--The rector now showed from the testimony of the Bible that poverty was known to the Jews of old.--"That isn't true!" cried a hoarse voice from amongst the crowd behind the speaker, "these cursed Jews have all the money. They know what a poor fellow feels?"--The rector paid no attention to this interruption, he showed all that could be learnt from the Bible on the subject, then taking up Xenophon he explained the condition of the Spartan Helots, but his audience did not seem to understand a word of what he was saying. After that he took up Plato, opened it at the part about the Republic, and added in all good faith that if the Rahnstädters had what Plato had imagined for the Athenians on these evenings, then every Rahnstädt labourer would have roast-beef and potatoes every day for dinner, and would be able to drive in a carriage every Sunday afternoon, and the children would have gold chains instead of ribbons to tie round their necks.--"He ought to tell us more plainly how we can have all that?" said some. "Hurrah for Plato, hurrah!" cried a number of voices.--"I say, lad, does he mean the old Jew Platow who can only see out of one eye?"--"Ah, lad, I used to know him well, he has often cut up a bit of beef in my shop," said Krüger, the butcher.--The president's bell rang and produced silence, then that rascal Mr. Rein turned to the rector, and begged him in the name of the assembly to be so kind as to give the Rahnstädt Reform-club a clear description of Plato's Republic. That was a terrible request! The perspiration stood in large drops on the poor rector's forehead as he three times began to explain the nature of that ideal Republic, and as often broke down, because his own ideas regarding it were not of the clearest. At last he said that Plato's Republic was a republic, and that he was sure all of his politically educated hearers knew what a republic was. As everyone was agreed on that point, the rector went on to speak about the Romans, and told his audience as a very curious fact that the Romans had now and then suffered from starvation, and had then shouted at the tops of their voices for "panem et circenses." "Now, my dear hearers," he continued, "you must know that 'panem' signifies 'bread,' and 'circenses' 'public games'."--At this moment Deichert, the shoemaker, sprang upon his bench, in spite of the efforts Jack Bank made to drag him back by the coat tails, and exclaimed: "The old Romans weren't such fools after all, and what they did we Rahnstädters can do any day. Why as things are now if I and Bökel, Jürendten and others were to play a game at vang-toon when we are sitting together at Pfeifer's, the mayor would have our cards taken away from us, and we should have to appear in the town hall with Daddy Pfeifer and pay a fine and costs! Why, I say again like the old Romans: Let's have free public games."--"You're right there, lad," cried Jürendt, "three cheers for the old Romans and Mr. Baldrian."--"Hurrah! hurrah!" and once more "Hurrah!" was shouted.--The rector bowed his thanks both for himself and the Romans, and as he saw how often the president glanced at the clock, he soon brought his speech to a conclusion. "My honoured hearers," he said, "when we consider the poverty at present amongst ourselves, we find that it is only the children of poor people and of journeymen who are obliged to go about our town begging." He then came down from the pulpit with his army of authorities under his arm.

He was succeeded by John "For my part".--"Gentlemen," he said, "for my part, I am a dyer," here he stretched both hands out over the edges of the "vat" to show how blue they were dyed by his work, "I was in Mr. Baldrian's school when I was a boy, and I say that he's right, we must have a republic. You may choose Plato's if you like, for my part, or any other; but what the rector says of the journeymen is a sin and a shame; I mean the journeymen, for my part, and not the rector. Gentlemen, I, for my part, have travelled to other lands in my calling as a journeyman dyer."--"You sat quietly at home with your mother," cried a voice.--"What's that you say? I went as far as Birnbaum in Poland, and even further; for my part, onward was my motto, as far as the blue sky extends and an honest dyer in blue can get work," here he beat upon his breast. "And gentlemen," he went on, "I could, for my part, have two men under me; but I can't manage it, for indigo is too dear."--"Ah, you rogue!" cried Deichert, the shoemaker, "you use logwood."--"I think, for my part, that you're talking nonsense," replied John.--"What indigo?" exclaimed a number of voices, "he dyes with logwood!"--"Yes," cried the wit, "anyone can tell the women who get their things dyed by him in a moment, they all have a washed out look, for that wretched logwood comes off so dreadfully."--"Young man," asked John with a grand air, "have you ever examined my tubs?"--"You should hold your tongue when people speak of poverty. You're a rich man," cried another.--"For my part, gentlemen, I think that's all bosh. It's true that I've built myself a new house ...."--"Of logwood," cried the shoemaker.--"Of logwood," shouted a dozen voices.--"No," cried the dyer, "of pine, with oaken posts."--"Of logwood!" was shouted again by the assembly.--"For my part, gentlemen," exclaimed the dyer beating his breast with his blue hand and drawing himself up to his full height, "I'm a Rahnstädt citizen and that's all that I've got to say."--"And it's quite enough," cried a number of voices.--"Then you're a very good thing," said some of the labourers, "down with the slow coach, we know all that he has to say." So John "For my part" had to come down from the speaker's desk.

Kurz was the next to address the meeting: "Fellow citizens," he said, "we came here to talk of poverty and the honourable gentleman who spoke last told us about indigo instead. It's enough to bring down a judgment upon him! How can we tradesmen be expected to pay our taxes when every dyer imports his own indigo. Now the honourable gentleman who spoke last does this in order that no one may guess how much logwood he adds to the tub of indigo! He takes care to keep his trumps out of sight."--"You always peep at the cards," cried some one behind him; he stared Bräsig full in the face, and then went on as if nothing had been said to interrupt him: "If he chose he might buy his indigo from me at a much lower price than he can get it in Rostock. But, gentlemen, our subject is poverty. If matters remain as they are we shall soon all be poor."--"He's right there, lad," said Deichert to Jack Bank.--"Fellow citizens," continued Kurz, "I bought myself a carriage and horses to send about the country side with my wares, for I must neglect no possible mode of turning an honest penny in these hard times."--"These small profits don't seem likely to come any more," said Fred Sievert, the driver.--"But," Kurz went on, "they took possession of my carriage last year at Tetterow."--"Because you didn't pay the tax," interrupted Fred Sievert.--Kurz cared nothing for such a small matter as an interruption, for he had once been turned out of the meeting and had come back again at another time, so he went on: "The mayor sent for me and asked me, what van I employed to carry my wares.--'My own van,' I answered.--'Then you do it per se,' he said.--'No,' I said, 'not per sea; Rahnstädt isn't a sea port town; per van.'--'Oh, I was talking Latin,' he said with a laugh."--"Fellow citizens, what is the world coming to when our judges begin to talk Latin? When our horses and carriages are put under arrest? That's the way to become poor! How are we trades-people to carry on business when we make such very small profits on coffee, sugar, tobacco and snuff as we now do?"--"You'd better hold your tongue about your confounded snuff," interposed Deichert, "it gave me such a swelled nose," and he covered his nose with his hand, but did not make much by that action, for everyone laughed when they saw that it stretched out beyond his hand both to the right and left.--"Fellow citizens," said Kurz, "I know very well that poverty must exist, but I think it ought to be kept within reasonable bounds. I mean, it should never be more than each man can deal with by himself without becoming a burden on his neighbours. But is that possible in the present sad condition of our town? Fellow citizens, I have been struggling for many years past to put an end to certain unjust privileges in the possession of which some people are revelling through the favouritism of the authorities."--"I say, lad," said Thiel, the cabinetmaker, to Jürendt, "you'll see that he's going to speak about the town jail, and if he does, he'd better get out of that, for Wredow, the baker, is my brother-in-law."--And sure enough he was right!--"Fellow citizens," cried Kurz, "I mean the town jail; that un ....."--"Down with him!" shouted Thiel, the cabinet-maker.--"Yes, down with him!" was echoed throughout the hall.--"We won't listen to anything about jails or pails," cried a number of voices.--"He won't allow anyone to make a small profit except himself," said Fred Sievert.--"He wants to have everything for himself, and the town jail into the bargain."--The president rang the bell in the most inhuman manner, while Kurz gesticulated wildly, and shouted: "Fellow citizens ...."--"What's all this row 'fellow citizen'?" said Thiel and Deichert while dragging the unfortunate shopkeeper out of the pulpit by the tails of his coat. He soon disappeared into the hollow of the "vat", but his two hands were long to be seen grasping the sides of it convulsively, reminding one of a pot of soup boiling on the kitchen fire, in which the fat bubbles up with a sound like "town jail--jail--jail," then all was silent and Kurz fell almost fainting into Bräsig's arms. Bräsig and Schulz took him out of the room between them.--"Hold your foolish tongue," said uncle Bräsig shoving Kurz into the room next to that in which the meeting was held, "do you want to be turned out in good earnest?"--Then the two old fellows placed themselves on guard, one on each side of Kurz, like the two men in the "willen Manns-Gulden" who watch a rampant lion lest he should suddenly spring upon the people. The only difference was that Bräsig and Schulz acted more wisely than the wild men in having each a long pipe instead of a whip in their hands.

Meanwhile Fred Sievert had shown that the poverty they were suffering from was caused by their having to pay so much for keeping up the roads, and had proposed that the road tax should be done away with. Wimmersdorf the tailor had then given it as his opinion that something must be done for the poor, and had thought that, at that moment, the only feasible plan was to write on the door of the Grand Duke's castle it Rahnstädt that it was "national property." If the castle were sold and the money that it brought were distributed amongst the poor, he considered that there would be no more pauperism in Rahnstädt. This motion was carried unanimously, and seven men were sent to the castle armed with Grammelin's stable lantern and a bit of chalk to see about putting the plan into execution.

"Christian," said a voice behind Mr. Pomuchelskopp, "I like this sort of thing very much. You can write too, so you must write that on our squire's front door to-morrow evening." Pomuchelskopp looked round; he thought he recognised the voice, and found himself--face to face with one of his own labourers, who had joined the Reform club before him, and who had the assurance to nod to him on catching his eye. He was very much taken aback, and did not in the least know what to do. He asked himself what card he should play, whether being 'master' was still a trump card, or whether 'fraternity' had taken its place. Something had to be done at once. He must at least bring the opinion of the meeting round to his side. So just as Bräsig and Schulz came back into the hall after having seen Kurz safe home, the president said: "Mr. Pomuchelskopp is going to make us an address." Pomuchelskopp forced his way slowly through the crowd, and as he passed them, he seized the opportunity of shaking hands with Thiel the carpenter, of giving Wimmersdorf the tailor a friendly slap on the back, and of speaking to the witty journeyman shoemaker. When he had got into the tribune, he said: "Gentlemen." Now it always makes a great impression when a man dressed in a blue surtout with brass buttons addresses a crowd of smock-frocked labourers and poorly dressed mechanics as "gentlemen," so a murmur went through the hall: "He's right!"--"He knows how to treat us!"--"Gentlemen," repeated Pomuchelskopp as soon as the murmurs had ceased, "I am not an orator, but a simple farmer. I have heard better speakers," here he bowed to rector Baldrian, John 'For my part' and Wimmersdorf, and even Fred Sievert's services were recognised by Mr. Pomuchelskopp on account of his speech about the road money, "and I have also heard worse," here he glanced towards the door out of which Kurz had been led but a short time before, "than myself, but gentlemen, I didn't come here because of your eloquent speeches, but because of the principles that actuate you."--"Bravo, bravo!"--"Gentlemen I am heart and soul for liberty, heart and soul for equality, and heart and soul for fraternity. I am very grateful to you for having admitted me into your noble association." He now pulled a white handkerchief out of his pocket and placed it on the ledge by his side. "Gentlemen, you were talking about poverty. I have spent many a silent hour in thinking over that question, and have passed many a sleepless night in considering how the evil may best be remedied." He wiped the perspiration from his forehead with the handkerchief as if to impress his auditors with the deep anxiety this subject caused him. "Of course, Gentlemen," he went on, "I allude to the poverty that exists in small towns, for there is no such thing as poverty in the country."--"Oh! oh!" cried a voice behind him, "It's time for you to speak, Christian."--"Our labourers," pursued Muchel, paying no attention to the displeasure to which his last remark had given rise, although he knew who had spoken quite well, "our labourers have each a free house and garden, grazing for a cow, as well as hay and straw for its winter fodder; they have fire wood and peat; as much potato and flax land as they require, and every week they are given a measure of barley and the same quantity of rye or three shillings in money. Then there's all the thresher's corn, and the labourer's wives can make six pence a day besides if they like. Now, I ask you gentlemen, if the labourers in town are as well off as that? What can a labourer want more?"--"Nothing! nothing!" cried all the town labourers. "Gentlemen," said a journeyman carpenter named Stephen Rutschow, "I am a journeyman carpenter, and my wages in summer are ten pence a day, one penny of which I have to give back to my master. I'd much rather be one of Mr. Pomuchelskopp's labourers than what I am."--"You donkey!" cried Schulz. "You might have had plenty of work all spring, but you're too fond of lounging about."--"Silence! silence!"--"Gentlemen," continued Pomuchelskopp, "I have told you what the position of my labourers is, and will now tell you how they're treated. Any labourer may give warning at any time and go to another place. Isn't my conduct worthy of all honour? Isn't that enough?"--"Christian speak, the time has come," cried the same voice as before. "Gentlemen," said Pomuchelskopp in conclusion, "I have been induced to become a member of your noble association because of your high principles, and because of the great poverty existing in all small towns such as this. You shall see that--although I am not a rich man--I will do all that lies in my power to help you. And now, gentlemen, I ask you to help me in return, for if town and country are only true to each other, order will be maintained, and everything will be conducted to a peaceful end by this most admirable assembly. Long live the Rahnstädt Reform club!"--"Hurrah!--Hurrah!--Hurrah!" was shouted from every corner of the hall, interspersed here and there with: "Three cheers for Mr. Pomuchelskopp!" Muchel then returned to his seat bowing and smiling.

The very moment he left it, the pulpit was again filled, and Zachariah Bräsig's red face showed itself above the book board. His face did not shine down on the assembly with the peaceful radiance of the sun or moon, no, it more nearly resembled the thunderbolt that God sometimes sends down upon the world as a punishment for its sins. "Fellow citizens," he cried, looking at his fellow citizens with an expression that seemed to say that he had devoured two of them for breakfast that morning, and intended to pick out the fattest of them for supper, "Fellow citizens, if Mr. Samuel Pomuchelskopp had remained quietly in his own farm-yard at Gürlitz, I should have said nothing; if he had not spoken too familiarly to me here tonight; if he had not told a whole string of most unblushing lies in this sublime corner of our fatherland," here he thumped the "vat" to show that it was it he alluded to, "I should have said nothing."--"That's got nothing to do with it," interrupted Wimmersdorf, "that's only abuse."--"Silence! He can speak as well as anybody."--"Mr. Wimmersdorf," said Bräsig, "if you don't like my speech you may shut your ears for all I care, as I think you're a foolish fellow. Now you may go and have me taken up for libel if you like, I am bailiff Bräsig."--"Quite right--go on," was the cry. "Fellow citizens, I repeat that I should have said nothing, for I hold it to be very wrong of any farmer, or of any man, to speak against a master in the presence of his labourers. But when a man,"--"a great Mogul!" shouted Schulz--"places himself on the altar of fraternity in order to throw dust in the eyes of this assembly, and knowingly give them a false idea of the condition of his labourers, I will speak. Fellow citizens, my name is bailiff Zachariah Bräsig."--"Hear, hear."--"Mr. Samuel Pomuchelskopp has told you that there's no poverty in the country, because he has arranged everything that affects the labourers so perfectly. 'Bonus,' as our honoured president says--but, fellow citizens, these things sound very well, in like manner as with the roast beef and plums of life--they are uncommonly good to eat--but very few of us can get them. For example, take the houses. To the right of Gürlitz farm is a kind of pig sty, that is called a cottage, in which Willgans lives--is Willgans here?" Willgans was not there. "It doesn't matter. The thatch has never been mended during the last three years, so that the rain comes in in streams, and when there is a storm whilst he and his wife are out harvesting, the children may be seen paddling about in the kitchen like frogs in a pond. When he asked his master to have it mended, Mr. Pomuchelskopp said his name was Willgans (wild goose) and water was always pleasant for geese to swim in."--"Faugh! He oughtn't to have said that."--"And now with regard to the grazing and hay for a cow. Where is the field for the cow to graze in? About two miles and a half from the village, at the very edge of the estate, is a large meadow on which nothing but twitch and fir trees will grow, and the women have to go all that distance three times a day to milk the cows. That's to say, three of them have to do so, for eighteen labourers out of the whole one and twenty have lost their cattle from disease, and the three cows that remain are just like dancing masters, their figures are so slight and elegant!"--"What a great Mogul the fellow is!" cried Schulz from behind. "Out with him, out with him!"--"Silence! Let Mr. Bräsig go on."--"Yes, fellow citizens, I will go on. As for the fire wood and peat: The peat is bad, it crumbles away without giving any heat, and the fire wood is nothing but any branches and cones the children can find in the woods and bring home on their backs. And the potato and flax land? Where is it? A poor bit of ground at the outside of the estate. And who manures it? The birds manure it, and when one sees the few handfuls of potatoes that are dug in autumn, one clasps one's hands above one's head and exclaims: 'Great God! And that's what's to feed the people and the pigs all winter!' But they can't live on it, they steal what more they require. They don't steal from Mr. Pomuchelskopp; they know better than to do that; but they steal from the neighbours, and a friend of mine, Mrs. Nüssler, has given orders that if any of the Gürlitz labourers are caught stealing from her potato-stores, they are to be let off, for they're starving."--"Hurrah for Mrs. Nüssler!" cried John Bank. "Hurrah!" was shouted throughout the hall, and again, "hurrah!"--"And the flax," pursued Bräsig, "is only so long," showing about a foot's length on his arm, "indeed Attorney Slus'uhr, who is a particular friend of Mr. Pomuchelskopp, said jestingly in my presence, that the Gürlitz women all wear short chemises because the staple of the flax is too short to make long cloth."--"What a wretch the fellow is, to make a joke about other folk's misery," cried Schulz, "Out with him, out with him!"--"Fellow citizens," continued Bräsig, "I tell you that the houses, cow's grass, fire wood and peat, potato and flax land are the roast beef and plums of the labourers in the country; they are pleasant things, but are not to be had, that's the reason of the poverty in country districts. What is the cause of poverty in towns? I will tell you, fellow-citizens, for I have lived in Rahnstädt long enough to have observed the human nature to be seen here; the great poverty in towns arises from the extreme pauverté to be found there?" Having said this he descended the pulpit, and "Bravo!" was shouted throughout the hall. "He's right!" said some. "Long live Mr. bailiff Bräsig!" cried others. The president then closed the meeting, for he said that no one would care to speak after that last address. Everyone surrounded Bräsig, congratulated him, and shook him warmly by the hand. The only exceptions to the general rule were Pomuchelskopp and David Berger, leader of the town band; for the one had slipped away quietly, and the other had run home to collect his fellow musicians. When Bräsig got out at the inn door he found himself in the presence of seven performers on brass instruments, who stood round him in a half circle, and played: "See the conquering hero comes!" in his honour, while David Berger, who had put on his spectacles, beat time with one of Grammelin's billiard cues. The Gürlitz labourers then came up to uncle Bräsig, and Rührdanz the weaver said: "Don't be afraid, Sir; you've stood by us, and we'll stand by you." And so when Bräsig was solemnly conducted through the marketplace and through all the principal streets in Rahnstädt, this small band of oppressed and saddened men followed him faithfully, for it was the first time that any one had spoken as though he understood and felt for them in their dire necessity, and the knowledge that one is not quite forsaken does more to develop and keep alive the good that is in the human heart than any admonitions however well intended.

Bräsig said a few words of farewell to his guard of honour when they all reached Mrs. Behrens' house. He said he could not ask them in, as it was a sort of parsonage, but added that he invited all present to drink a bowl of punch at Grammelin's on the following evening. The invitation was accepted with a 'hurrah,' and when Bräsig was comfortably in bed and was telling his friend Charles all the events of the evening, the musicians struck up: "High stand the laurels o'er the bed where the warrior sleeps." Meanwhile the Gürlitz labourers were walking home talking gravely and seriously as they went. "We must rebel, lads," said Rührdanz the weaver "there's no help for it, but let us act quietly and firmly, not violently; for what would the Grand Duke and Mr. Bräsig say if we were to be so ungrateful for his speech as to act like brutes instead of honest men?"