The three old gentlemen on arriving at the bailiff's house, seated themselves comfortably in the parlour, and then Bräsig asked: "Is that book a no-vell, Charles, to amuse you on winter evenings?"--"I hardly know what it is, Zachariah, but I'll light the lamp and look."--When the lamp was lighted, Hawermann was going to look at the title of the book, but Bräsig took it out of his hand, saying: "Nay, Charles, we have a learned man here, Strull must read it to us."--The schoolmaster drew a long breath, and began to read as if it were Sunday and he were reading the gospel for the day; and whenever he paused for breath, it was when he came to a word he did not know. "'Printing and Paper from Frederic Vieweg & Son in Brunswick Chemistry in relation to A-gri-culture and Phy-si-ology.'"--"Stop!" cried Bräsig. "That's not the word, it's fisionomy."--"No," said Stroll, "it's pronounced 'phy-si-ology' here."--"Well, it doesn't much matter," said Bräsig. "Foreign words are rather peculiar, one man pronounces them in this way, and another in that.--Please go on!"--"'By Justus Liebig Drrr of Medicine and Philosophy Professor of Chemistry in the Ludwig University at Giessen Knight of the Ludwig-order of the Grand-duchy of Hesse and of the third class of the order of S-t-Anne of the Russian Empire Foreign member of the Royal Society of Science at Stockholm of the'--there's something in Latin that I can't read--'in London Honorary member of the Dublin Academy--cor-res-pon-d .....'"--"Stop!" cried Bräsig. "Preserve us all, Charles! What a lot of things that fellow is."--"But that isn't nearly all," said the schoolmaster, "there's as much again to come yet."--"Then we'll skip all that. Go on!"--"'Fifth revised and enlarged edition Published by Vieweg & Son Brunswick 1843.' Now comes a preface."--"We'll skip that too," said Bräsig, "begin where the book begins."--"There's a heading 'Subject' and it has got a stroke under it"--"All right!" said Bräsig. "Fire away!"--"'The task of organic chemistry is to investigate the chemical conditions of life and the completed development of all organisms.' End of the sentence."--"What did you say?" asked Bräsig.--"'Of all organisms,'" repeated the schoolmaster.--"Well!" exclaimed Bräsig. "I've heard many an outlandish word, but Organism, Organ ..... Stay! Charles, do you remember the bit of Gellert we had to learn by heart for parson Behrens: 'Mr. Orgon went to the door.' Perhaps this Orgon has something to do with that one."--"Do let the schoolmaster read on, Bräsig, otherwise we'll never understand."--"Why, Charles, talking of a thing is great use in teaching us what it means. You'll see that this book is just like those I tried to read about the water-cure, and begins with all kinds of incompr'ensible things. Now go on!"--"'The duration of all living things is dependent upon their reception of certain materials which we call food and which are necessary for the development and reproduction of every organism.' End of the sentence."--"The man's right enough there," said Bräsig. "All living creatures require food, and"--here he took the book from Strull---"'it is necessary for every organism.' I know what he means by organism now, it's the stomach."--"Yes," assented the schoolmaster, "but you forget that he uses the word 'reproduction' also."--"Ah!" said Bräsig, with a wave of his hand. "'Production.' That's a thing that has only been known in the last few years. When I was a child no one ever heard of production, and now they call every bushel of wheat and every ox a production. I'll tell you what it is, Master Strull, they only use these words as a flower of speech and to show how learned they are."--When they had read a little more of the book the schoolmaster rose to go home, and then the two old friends were left alone together, for Bräsig was to spend the night at Pümpelhagen.--At last Hawermann said with a deep sigh: "I'm very much afraid, Zachariah, that bad times are beginning for me."--"Why, what do you mean? Your young squire is a merry light-hearted sort of man, and is fond of a joke too. Didn't you notice that in the way he was talking about farming at dinner to-day?"--"What you thought a joke, Bräsig, he meant in earnest"--"In earnest!"--"Most certainly. He has studied farming; in new-fashioned books which don't at all approve of our old-fashioned ways, and I can't undertake the management of these new ways of farming at my age, for I don't understand them well enough."--"You're right there, Charles. People who have been accustomed to climb high towers from the time they were little children, don't get dizzy when they are called upon to do it in their old age, and people who have been brought up to learn science in their childhood find it quite easy to dance on a scientific tight rope when they are old. Do you understand me?"--"Perfectly. And, Bräsig,"--pointing to the book--"we were never taught to dance on that rope when we were young, and now my old bones are too stiff to attempt it. I've nothing to say against the new ways, I don't understand them, and if Mr. von Rambow will tell me how he wants things to be done, I'll carry out his views as well as I can; but I'm afraid that that kind of farming will require a great deal of money if it is to be done properly, and our purse is not a very heavy one. I thought at first that he would get something with his wife, but he didn't.[[2]] He had to get all new things in Rahnstädt himself, and they're not paid for yet"--"Don't distress yourself about that, Charles. He has made a good choice all the same. I was much taken with the young lady."--"So was I, Bräsig."--"You see what a woman can do in keeping things straight in what your sister has done. I'm going to call on her to-morrow, for those two young parsons seem to have been getting into a scrape of some kind. Good-night, Charles."--"Good-night, Bräsig."
CHAPTER III.
Next morning Fred Triddelfitz swam about the farm-yard at Pümpelhagen like a pickerel in a fish-pond, for he had put on his green hunting-coat and grey breeches, in order that--as he said to himself--Mrs. von Rambow might have something pleasant to look at. His eyes which used to glance ever and anon at Hawermann's window when he was at work in the yard, were now turned often and curiously in the direction of the manor-house, and when the squire opened his window and called him, he shot across the yard as if he were indeed a pickerel and Alick were the bait he wanted to catch.
"Triddelfitz," said Mr. von Rambow, "I have determined to make a short address to my people this morning, will you tell them to come up to the house at nine o'clock."--"Aye, aye, Sir," said Fred, who thought that answer more respectful than any other he could have used.--"Where is the bailiff? I want to speak to him; but there's no hurry."--"He has just gone out at the back gate with Mr. Bräsig."--"Very well. When he comes back will do perfectly."--Fred made as grand a bow as he could, and turned to go, but after walking away a few steps, he went back and asked: "Pray, Sir, do you want to see the women as well as the men?"--"No, only the men. But wait a moment--yes, you can tell the married women to come too."--"Aye, aye, Sir," said Fred, who then set off round the village, and desired all the married women, and the men who worked on the farm to go up to the manor-house in their Sunday-clothes.--It was now eight o'clock, and if the ploughmen who were at work in the more distant fields were to get up to Pümpelhagen in time, they must be called at once, so he set off to fetch them.
Hawermann had accompanied his old friend a little bit of the way towards Rexow, and then crossing the fields, he went to see how the ploughmen were getting on with their work. Whilst he was there, Fred came over the hill and made towards him in as straight a line as he could, considering his way of walking and the roughness of the ploughed land. "Mr. Hawermann," he said, "the men must unyoke their horses at once, for the squire wants all the workmen to be up at the manor-house at nine. He is going to make them a speech."--"What is he going to do?" asked Hawermann surprised.--"Make a speech," was the answer. "All the other men and the married women have received orders to be ready. He had forgotten the women, but I reminded him of them."--"You'd better," ....--"have left it alone," Hawermann was going to have said, but he stopped himself in time and added quietly: "Go and give the men your message."--"But you're wanted too."--"Very well," answered the old man turning to go home with a heavy heart.--That bit of land ought to have been finished that morning, and now nothing to speak of could be done till the afternoon.--And there was another thing. His master had made this arrangement on the very first day without telling him of his intention. He had consulted Triddelfitz, not him, and yet there was no such desperate need of hurry.--Still that did not grieve him so much as the thought of the speech. What on earth was he going to say? Was he going to lecture them about their duty? If he was it was unnecessary to do so. The people went to their work as naturally as to their dinner ..... they did not think about their duty, they just did it. It would be a great pity to speak to them either in praise or blame upon the subject. Too much talk did more harm than good. Labourers were like children, if they were praised for doing their duty, they began to think that they had done more than their duty.--Or was he going to give them some proof of his generosity? He was quite good-natured enough for that.--But what could he give them?--They had all they needed. He could give them nothing tangible, for he knew too little of their position to do so, he would, therefore, be obliged to content himself with vague figures of speech and meaningless promises, which everyone would of course interpret according to his own hopes and wishes, and which it would be impossible ever to realize.
These were Hawermann's thoughts as he went to join his master in his study. Mrs. von Rambow was in the room ready dressed for her walk over the farm. She went forward to meet him as he came in and said: "We must wait for a little, Mr. Hawermann, Alick wants to speak to the people before we go."--"That won't take long," said Alick who was turning over some papers.--There was a knock at the door.--"Come in."--And Fred entered with a letter in his hand: "From Gürlitz," he said.--Alick broke the seal and read the letter. It was from attorney Slus'uhr to say that when David and he happened to be passing Gürlitz that morning they had gone in to see Mr. Pomuchelskopp, from whom they had accidentally heard of Mr. von Rainbow's return home, and as they wished to speak to him on particular business, they would do themselves the pleasure, &c. &c. There was also a postscript to say that the business was very pressing. Alick was in a very painful position, for he could not refuse to receive the two men however much he might wish to do so. He went out to the door, and told the messenger that he would be glad to see the gentlemen, but when he returned to the study he looked so grave and anxious that his wife asked him what was the matter. "Oh, nothing," he answered. "I'm thinking about my speech. I'm afraid that it will last longer than I thought at first, and so perhaps it would be better if you and Mr. Hawermann were to set out at once without waiting for me."--"Oh, Alick, without you! I had been looking forward ...."--"But you see, my dear child, I can't help it. I know the whole place perfectly, and--and I will follow you as soon as I possibly can."--It seemed to Hawermann that the squire was nervously anxious to get rid of them both, so he came forward and asked Mrs. von Rambow if she would go with him now. She consented and followed him somewhat gravely.
Soon after they were gone Alick addressed the assembled villagers, but his whole pleasure in making his speech from the throne was destroyed by the remembrance of the disagreeable letter in his pocket. The speech was much what Hawermann had imagined it would be. It was made up of good advice and promises couched in such long words and high-flown language, that the villagers were quite puzzled as to what it all meant; the only thing they understood was that the squire had promised them all sorts of good things, and had said that any one who had a favour to ask was to go at once to him, and his request would meet with fatherly consideration.--"Ah!" said Päsel to Näsel. "That's a good look out for us. He'll do that, will he? I'll go to him to-morrow, and ask if I may bring up a calf this year."--"You got one last year."--"That doesn't matter, I can sell it to the weaver at Gürlitz."--"Well," said Kegel to Degel, "I'll go to him to-morrow, and ask him to give me another bit of potato-ground next spring, and tell him that my piece isn't big enough to supply my family."--"That was because you didn't hoe your potatoes at the right time; the bailiff gave you a bit of his mind about it you remember."--"What does that matter? The devil a bit he knows about that, and he's our master now, and not the bailiff."--So the people went away restless and discontented with their present condition, and Alick himself was anxious and unhappy because of the visit that was hanging over him that morning. The only person at Pümpelhagen who was perfectly contented was Fred Triddelfitz, so the young squire had not cast the pearls of his speech entirely before swine.
Slus'uhr and David arrived, and what can I say about their visit? They sang the same song as before, and Alick had to renew his bills again. From long practice he had grown quite expert at this. Borrowing money is a dreadful thing, nothing comes up to it except perhaps being beheaded or hung, neither of which is precisely a pleasant experience; still I have known people who never rested till they had borrowed from all the Jews and Christians they could persuade to lend them money. Alick was not as bad as that, but yet he thought it as well to make use of the present opportunity, and get a new loan from David of sufficient money to pay for the refurnishing of the house. His excuse was that it was better "to have to do with one usurer than with several," and it never seemed to occur to him that that one was as bad as a dozen.
Meanwhile Hawermann and Mrs. von Rambow were walking over the farm. The beauty of the summer-morning soon chased away the slight shadow of displeasure from the lady's fair face, and she began to look about her, and try with right good will to learn something about farming in Mecklenburg. Hawermann soon discovered to his great delight that she was by no means so ignorant of agricultural matters as she thought herself. She had been brought up in the country, and had always taken an intelligent interest in what was going on around her. She liked to know why this or that was done, a mere superficial knowledge did not content her. So it was that she already knew enough about farming to understand the reasons for the differences she noticed between the crops at Pümpelhagen and those at her old home. The soil on her father's estate was light and sandy, while here it was a rich clay, well suited for the cultivation of wheat. The old bailiff gave her many simple little hints which helped her very much. They were both delighted with their walk, and a friendly confidence in each other was the result of their common enjoyment of the same subjects.
When they reached the Gürlitz march, Hawermann showed her the glebe-lands, and told her that the late squire had taken a lease of them.--"And the barley over there," asked Mrs. von Rambow. "That's part the Gürlitz estate, and it belongs to Mr. Pomuchelskopp."--"Ah, that was the gentleman who met us yesterday with his family," cried Frida. "What sort of man is he?"--"I never see anything of him," said Hawermann, rather confused.--"Don't you know him?" asked Mrs. von Rambow.--"Yes--no--that is, I used to know him; but we hav'n't seen anything of each other since he came here," replied the old man, and then he introduced another subject of conversation, but Frida laid her hand upon his arm, and asked: "Mr. Hawermann, you know that I am a stranger in this neighbourhood, and Alick seems to know very little about these people. Tell me, are they proper acquaintances for us?"--"No," said Hawermann shortly.--They walked on silently, at last Mrs. von Rambow stood still, and asked: "Can you, and will you tell me the reason why you broke off your old acquaintance with that man?"--Hawermann looked at her long and earnestly. "Yes," he said at length, but more as if he were speaking to himself than to her. "And if you believe me as the late squire did, it will perhaps be better for you to know it."--He then told her his story plainly and quietly, hiding nothing and exaggerating nothing. Mrs. von Rambow listened attentively and without interrupting him. When he had finished she merely said: "I didn't like what I saw of these people yesterday, and now I dislike them."--They had been walking through the glebe-lands for some time, and had reached the hedge at the end of the parsonage-garden; suddenly they heard a sweet young voice at the other side of the hedge exclaim: "Good-morning, father, good-morning," and at the same moment the lovely girl that Mrs. von Rambow had seen at the parsonage-door on the preceding day sprang through the garden-gate towards her father. But on seeing who was with him she blushed deeply and stopped short, so that if Hawermann wanted to have his good-morning-kiss, he would have to go and help himself to it.