And now it was Henny's turn--our brave old Henny! Pomuchelskopp had gone to live in Rostock, taking with him his whole family in the blue glass coach with the coat of arms on the panel, and a string of wagons full of furniture. When trade grew better again he gained a nickname for himself. He was called 'much too cheap,' for he never lost an opportunity of telling every one who would listen to him, how sad had been his fate in selling Gürlitz, as he had done, and he always ended his story by heaving a tempestuous sigh and saying: "Much too cheap; very much too cheap!" His brave old Henny looked after the house strictly, and kept up discipline; but the devil seemed to possess all the Rostock maid servants, they would not submit to the treatment, that the Gürlitz maids had had to bear. No servant would remain for more than a week, except the cook, a Päsel, and even she turned restive, and worthless creature that she was, rebelled after being in the house three months. Henny was exasperated with such conduct, and seizing the tongs, knocked her on the head with them. The cook made no answer, for she fell down senseless on the hearth. A doctor came and talked a great deal about suffusion, &c., but the end of it was that the poor woman had to be taken to the hospital. The doctor was an honest man, so he made the case known to the authorities, and Henny had to undergo trial for her misdeeds. She could not have been touched if she had used a stick of the same length and thickness as the tongs she had handled so courageously! But tongs are not mentioned in Mecklenburg law books, so Henny was condemned, besides paying costs, and damages to the injured servant, to six weeks imprisonment. Muchel protested, appealed, supplicated, but it availed him nothing; Henny had to suffer imprisonment because of the great courage she had shown. Pomuchelskopp told everyone he could get to listen to him how unjustly his wife had been treated; he reviled the judges, and unfortunately for him, these great personages heard what he had said and gave him four weeks in jail for his evil speaking. He tried to buy himself off, but in vain; even senator Bank said: no, they would see how the coward liked his quarters. So the husband and wife occupied different parts of the same prison during the Christmas and New Year's holidays of 1852--1853; when they had been there for a fortnight, the jailer went to his wife, and said: "What a difference there is between these two people, Sophie; he walks restlessly up and down his room cursing God, and the whole world, while she sits stiff and straight in the same place and attitude as when she first came here." Meanwhile Mally and Sally gave a large tea-party to their gentlemen and lady friends in honour of their parents' misfortunes, and Mr. Süssmann who had taken another place as shopman somewhere in Mill Street, of course out of compassion for his employer, was one of the guests.
As soon as our two old friends were once more free, Pomuchelskopp went to the parlour and bewailed his fate to his two daughters, and Henny made her way straight to the kitchen where she found a charwoman in command, for while she had been out of the house, a great indignation meeting had been held in Slepegrell's dancing room, when all the Rostock maid servants entered into a solemn covenant with each other, that none of them should take the Pomuchelskopp's place. That was the reason of the charwoman being there. "What do you get a day?" asked Henny. "One and four pence," was the answer. Henny snatched up the tongs, but presently bethought herself of what had happened on the last occasion. The effort of restraining herself was too great; she was taken ill upon the spot; in three days she was dead, and in other three days she was buried. Neither Pomuchelskopp nor his two daughters know where she lies, and whenever they are asked their invariable answer is: "Over there,--she is buried over there." Gustavus, who is now a farm bailiff, and who often goes to town on business, is the only one who knows the place. He sometimes takes one of the little ones with him, and showing him the grave, he says: "Look, Chris; that's where our mother lies."
I have been obliged to relate a great many sad events, and am not nearly done yet; but why should I not tell some of the pleasant things I also heard at the parsonage. For many a long year there was much happiness in the house that had been built for the widows of the clergymen of Gürlitz. Mrs. Behrens would sit at the window in the evenings looking at her husband's grave, and ah, how often she longed to go to him; then, when Dorothy brought in the lamp, she turned away from the window, and seeing the old furniture, the old pictures, and even the duster lying in its old place, she would recall to her memory how she and her pastor used to sit under those pictures and look at the homely objects she saw around her, and she was glad to live. Hawermann worked and laboured diligently; no longer for strangers, but for his children and his children's children, for Louisa had several pretty little girls. Once he had a pleasant surprise. Fred Triddelfitz came to see him--of course he was dressed in a blue surtout--accompanied by the little member of the women's council, and told him that he had a good estate in Pomerania, and that he was engaged to little Anna. He talked a great deal to Hawermann that evening about his arrangements, and when he was gone, Bräsig said: "You were right again, Charles--but who would have thought it? Your grey hound has become a sensible man, but don't you crow over that as your doing, it was Anna not you who reformed him," As for Bräsig himself, he employed himself in going about the country and picking up news. Now he was at Rexow, now at Pümpelhagen, and now at Rahnstädt, but his favourite place of resort was Hohen-Selchow. He went there nearly every three months, and when he came home he said: "All's going on well, Charles, he has quite given up farming, and spends his day in the barn inventing. His inventions are no good of course; but Bremer says that he couldn't wish for a better master, and Mrs. von Rambow's as happy and contented as a blessed angel in Paris. But Charles, Mr. von Rambow's by no means stupid. He has invented something that I mean to adopt. This is it. Take an old hat, cut a good sized hole in the front of it and put a small lantern inside, and then you may ride as safely by night as by day." Bräsig was as good as his word, and really made use of Alick's discovery, the effect of which was to terrify all the people he happened to meet. But once when he was at Hohen-Selchow he had an attack of gout that would have been of little consequence, but which seized both legs and then mounted into his stomach, because of a chill he got on his journey home. And that caused his death.
Mrs. Behrens, Mrs. Nüssler, and his old friend Charles Hawermann came round his bed, and Mrs. Behrens asked: "Dear Bräsig, shall I not send for the young parson."--"No, don't, Mrs. Behrens. You've called me an old heathen all my life long; perhaps I was wrong in acting as I have, but oh, how I always hated methodistical twaddle..... It's better to leave me alone, and I like it better so. Charles, remember that my sister's child, Lotta, is to have £300, and the rest of my money is to go to the Rahnstädt school; for, Charles, Mrs. Behrens has enough to live on, and so have you, but my heart aches for the poor little school-children. Mrs. Nüssler has to live, my god-child Mina has to live, you have to live, Charles, and you all have to live, while I have to die." Soon after that he became delirious, and his mind went back to the time of his boyhood; he thought he was herding his father's sheep, and that an old ram was giving him great trouble, so he called Mrs. Nüssler to help him, and she seated herself on his bed and supported him in her arms. He then began to talk of his three sweethearts, and Mrs. Nüssler, saying over and over again that it was she alone he had really loved, and Mrs. Nüssler, kissed the words away from his mouth: "I know that, Bräsig; my dear old Zachariah, I know that," she said. His delirium grew worse, and he spoke of his having been appointed assessor--of the law of evidence--of young Mr. von Rambow and Lake Lauban, and of his having thrown the pistol into the water, and of having lost four pence on a wager. And then a wonderful light came over his face as he told his dear old love, Mrs. Nüssler, stories about the twins, especially Mina, and of Charles Hawermann and Louisa, but all confusedly and mixed up together. He held Mrs. Nüssler's hand tight all the while. Suddenly he raised himself and said: "Mrs. Nüssler, please put your hand on my head; I have always loved you. Charles Hawermann, will you rub my legs, they're so cold." Hawermann did as he was asked, and Bräsig said very slowly with one of his old smiles: "In style I was always better than you." That was all.
Our dear little Mrs. Behrens was not long in following him.--There are very few people who are happy here on earth, and who are yet quite happy to die. She was one of the few, she was perfectly satisfied with her lot here below, but whenever she thought of the world above, a picture of old times came into her mind, and the happy sound of old days rang in her ears, for she always imagined Heaven to be like a pretty little village church, where the angels sang and her pastor preached. She is now with him once more, and let us think of her as putting on his gown and bands for him and singing with him in the heavenly quire; not "songs for the dying," as of yore, but "songs of the Resurrection."
As I was thinking over all of these events, I turned the corner of the path at the arbour where so many of the Pümpelhagen family had sat in their hour of sorrow, and I saw three little girls of from four to eleven years old playing on the grass. A lady with a kind, gentle, and happy face was seated in the arbour sewing, she let her work fall into her lap, and smiling at the little girls threatened them with her finger, saying: "There can be too much of a good thing." Beside her was a strong active looking man reading a newspaper. He put the paper down and shook his head as much as to say that he could not attend to it just then. A little further off sat an old man with a small maiden of twelve years old leaning against his knee, he interrupted her childish chatter to say to the lady: "Let them make as much noise as they like, Louie, they'll be only too apt to grow steady and wise before their time."--When I got quite round the corner the old man exclaimed: "Bless me! Isn't that?"--And Frank and Louisa came forward to welcome me, and Frank said: "That's right, Fritz, I am glad that you've come to see us."--I said: "My Louisa," for my wife's name is Louisa, "wishes to be very kindly remembered to you, Mrs. von Rambow."--And then there was a great deal of talk amongst us for a little while, but our pleasure did not last long, for suddenly there was noise and rushing in the garden as if the wild huntsman and his pack had broken loose, and I saw running towards us four boys with brown eyes and brown cheeks, grey trousers and grey jackets. A tiny little lad of six rushed up to Frank, threw his arms round his knees, and shouted over his shoulder: "I'm first!"--"Yes," said another, who might perhaps be twelve years old, "I should think so, for you ran through the meadow; but I say what a mess you're in! Won't mother scold you!"--The little fellow looked down at his trousers, and certainly if his mother was satisfied, he might be so too.--"Won't your parents be here soon?"--"Yes," said the eldest, "They're just behind us. Our grandmother's coming too, and Mrs. von Rambow, who arrived at our house yesterday evening."--"What, Frida!" cried Louisa. "I'm so glad!"--A few minutes later, Rudolph and Mina came in sight, and they might be said to resemble the noontide of a beautiful day, when the sunlight is brightening the landscape far and wide, when the shadows are short, and when men pull off their coats that they may work better and more easily. Rudolph is now a man of weight amongst his colleagues, for he has not only given up the old system of farming, which in many respects was a mistaken one, but makes money by the change for himself and teaches others to follow his example, thus benefitting the whole land. Behind them came Mrs. Nüssler and Frida. Mrs. von Rambow looked round her half sadly when she reached the arbour, and after the first words of welcome, Louisa said to her eldest daughter: "Frida, bring your aunt a chair," for she remembered that Mrs. von Rambow had once said that she disliked sitting on the bench where she had been so miserable.--Mrs. Nüssler went to Hawermann and asked: "How are you, brother Charles?"--"Very well, thank you," shouted Hawermann, for his sister had grown very deaf. "And you?"--"Very well except for my deafness. You say that must have been caused by a chill. But, how did I get a chill without knowing it? I'll tell you, Charles, it comes from Joseph's having talked so much during the last years of his life, that he must have strained my ears. He couldn't help it you know, it was his nature to talk."--Parson Godfrey now arrived with Lina and three children. The children all played together while their parents talked. Towards evening tables were spread in the open air, one for the parents alone, and one for the children. Louisa's eldest daughter managed everything at the children's table, and grandfather Hawermann looked after the other, and they both acted on a different plan from that of our old acquaintance Henny. How kind and gentle they all were that day at Pümpelhagen.--While we were all enjoying ourselves at supper we saw some one coming up the garden path. It was Fred Triddelfitz accompanied by his little wife. Everybody jumped up to welcome them, and for a few minutes there was a regular fire of questions and answers. Suddenly that monster Fred Triddelfitz caught sight of me, and asked: "How did you get here, Fritz?"--"And how did you get here?" I asked in my turn.--"Why, Fritz, I hav'n't seen you for seven cold winters," he said.--"Nor I you, Fred," I replied.--And so we went on Fritzing and Fredding each other till everyone was laughing at us.--"Fritz," he asked, "do you still write books?"--"Yes, Fred, I've got a whole heap of my books now."--"Well then, Fritz, do me a favour; I entreat of you not to bring me into one of your books."--"Ah," I said, "I can't gratify you there, Fred, for I've got you in one already."--"What am I doing in it?" he asked quickly.--"You're at the 'randyvoo' in the great ditch, you know."--"What's that?" asked Louisa, who was sitting opposite me.--Frank laughed heartily and said: "I'll tell you afterwards."--"No, no," cried Fred.--"What's the meaning of all this?" asked Anna, looking first at me, Fritz Reuter, and then at her husband, Fred Triddelfitz.--I was silent, and he said: "I'll tell you another time." Old grandfather Hawermann laughed aloud. When we were alone together after supper, Fred laid his hand on my arm, and asked: "Who told you about the rendez-vous?"--"Bräsig," I answered.--"So I thought," he said, "well, Bräsig was the chief actor in the whole story."--"You're right there," I replied.
Perhaps I may be asked: Where are Pümpelhagen, Gürlitz and Rexow? You will look for them in the map in vain, and yet they are in Germany; indeed I hope that they may be found in more than one district of our fatherland. Pümpelhagen is wherever a nobleman lives who thinks no higher of himself than of his fellowmen, who looks upon the lowest of his labourers as his brethren, and who works with and for them. Gürlitz is wherever a clergyman is to be found who preaches what he believes to be the truth, but who is not self-sufficient enough to expect that his people should hold the faith exactly as he holds it; who makes no difference between rich and poor, and who is not contented with preaching alone, but who works amongst his people, helping and counselling them whenever it is needful. Rexow is wherever a middle-class man labours to increase the knowledge and usefulness of others, as well as his own, and who thinks more of the good of those amongst whom he lives than of heaping up riches. Wherever these three places are bound to each other by the love of sweet tender-hearted women and merry children, the three villages may be found close together.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1]: Translator's note. Muschüken (from monsieur) is the Mecklenburg name for rusks.
[Footnote 2]: Translator's note. One of the Chauffeurs who infested the Rhineland.