The farmer's wife had often visited her husband in the presence of the examining magistrate. Peter had several times accompanied his mother, but Thoma did not come. Her father was too high-spirited to inquire for her, or ask why she staid away. Perhaps she disapproved of his obstinacy in staying in prison; perhaps she approved of his pride, for Landolin had told the judge, "I will not go out with a halter round my neck, for people to make sport of me; one to pull it tight, so as to choke me a little, and another to graciously loosen it. I will only go as a free man. And didn't you say that I am to appear in court next week?"
So he staid in prison, and was not obliged to see any one but his wife, his son, the examining magistrate, and his attorney. But one pair of eyes he saw, that looked more friendly at him than the eyes of a child or a sister. The district judge's wife had obtained permission to visit the prisoners.
And the hearts must indeed have been hard that were not gladdened when that lady entered the cell, while the guards waited at the open door.
Madame Pfann--for by this simple title did the judge's wife allow herself to be called--Madame Pfann was exceedingly happy in her marriage. Although her husband could not forbear occasionally laughing at her missionary zeal, nevertheless he willingly allowed her her own way in everything. He delighted in the many successes she achieved, but above all other things, in the unwavering faithfulness with which she fulfilled the duty she had taken upon herself.
They had an only son, who in July, 1870, entered the army as a volunteer, was promoted to a lieutenancy on the field of battle, and had remained in the service. Madame Pfann had not waited for some great event before she set herself to work. Years before she had commenced the work of philanthropy, and carried it out with a zeal that was universally acknowledged. She was the daughter of a plain professor in the gymnasium at the capital; and she took pleasure in saying that she owed her capacity for her work to her father's simple and noble character.
She was aware that people called her conduct eccentric and sentimental; but she cared nothing for that.
An old-time saying tells us that on the path of heroic deeds a man has to battle with giants and monsters. Madame Pfann had had to battle with a great and noble intellect. She remembered Goethe's cynical words, that finally the world would be bereft of all beauty, and each one would be only his neighbor's benevolent brother.
Veneration for our great poet was an heir-loom in her girlhood's home. Fierce was the conflict before she overcame the mighty coercion of the master mind, but she gained at last that liberty which shakes off the fetters of an undue veneration. She was convinced that even a Goethe cannot give precepts for all time. Our age has made the unity of human interests its law, and no longer tolerates a mere æsthetically selfish life. Yes, out of a life devoted to the common welfare, springs a new beauty of being.
Madame Pfann often met with rudeness and thoughtlessness where she least expected it, so that her experiences were sometimes painful; but she remained steadfast.
In her visits to the prisons, she refused to interfere in the least degree with the course of the law. She only desired to comfort the prisoners; to make them at peace with themselves; and above all things she wished to help their friends who were left destitute at home. Here, too, she had sorry experiences. Rascals imposed upon her, and amused themselves in sending her on fruitless missions, and would even give her directions whose baseness she could not suspect.