The first of our friends who had deceased was Bauschan. He did not die a natural death,--not that he committed suicide--no! One day weaver Ruhrdanz came into the Rexow farm-yard, with a rusty flint-lock, took Bauschan by the collar, and led him into the garden; the new crown-prince was there as a spectator, and--as appeared afterwards--behaved very badly upon the occasion, rushing about, and growling. A shot was heard, and soon after Ruhrdanz came in, and reported that Bauschan had made a very Christian end. Frau Nüssler poured him a glass of schnapps, and when he had drank it, very gravely, he said that he and the other Gurlitz people had been before the court that morning; they were all sentenced to a year's imprisonment, and because he was the head one, or the ringleader, as they called it, he must have six months longer. He went out, but came back to say: "Frau, you will not forget my old woman! It all happened because we had no papers."
The second who died was Jochen himself. Since the time that he had given up the control, he had taken to managing; he ran about the fields all day, especially in places where there was nothing to do, and would stand there, shaking his head, but saying nothing. And one Sunday, between Christmas and New-Year's, when the snow lay a foot deep over the fields, he was out and happened to fall into a ditch. He came home quite chilled; Frau Nüssler gave him camomile tea, by the quart; he drank it submissively, but next morning he said, "Mother, what is not to be helped, is not. What must be, must. It is all as true as leather, and one can do nothing more about it," and with that, he fell asleep. He had managed himself to death, and Frau Nüssler thought seriously of inscribing on his tombstone:
"He died in his vocation."
Moses was the next; the old man had walked firm and upright through life, and firm and upright he went out of it. He died firm in his faith, and they did for him according to the customs of the tribe of Judah,--for he belonged to the tribe of Judah,---and when he was buried David sat in the ashes, with a torn coat, and many Christians followed him to the church-yard around which he had built the oaken fence, and I believe he is in Abraham's bosom, where Christians are also received. And the day after his funeral, there were three people standing at his grave, namely, Habermann, and the two young Fraus von Rambow,--Frida was come for a visit,--and Habermann wiped his old eyes, and the two young Fraus laid a couple of fresh wreaths on the grave of the old Jew, and, as they walked thoughtfully away through the Rahnstadt meadows, Habermann said, "He was a Jew in faith, and a Christian in deeds."
And now comes Häuning's turn--our brave old Häuning. Pomuchelskopp had gone off, neck and crop, bag and baggage, in the blue coach with the coat of arms, and with as many furniture wagons as he had fat sheep, to Rostock. When times got a little better for credit, he earned himself a nickname, they called him, "Much too cheap!" for he related his story to every one who would listen to him, and lamented his hard fate, and the sale of Gurlitz, and always ended with a deep sigh, "Much too cheap! Oh, very much too cheap!"
His brave Häuning pursued her course unterrified, and kept up her authority; but, dear knows, what a time she had with those Rostock maid-servants! They would not put up with such treatment as the Gurlitzers were compelled to endure. Every week, she had a new maid; one, indeed, behaved more reasonably, that was an old cook; but when she had been there about three months, this worthless creature became refractory. Häuning was very decided, she caught up the fire-tongs, and gave her a hard blow on the head. The girl hadn't another word to say, for she fell flat on the kitchen hearth. A doctor came and talked a great deal about suggillations and fractures; but the end of the story was, the poor girl was taken to the hospital. The doctor was an honest man, he reported the matter to the rightful authorities, and Häuning was summoned before the court. If she had made use of a pudding-stick, of the same length and thickness, they would have done nothing to her; but, in her valor, she had seized the tongs! Tongs were not down in the Mecklenburg statutes, and so Häuning was condemned, besides the costs, and what she must give the poor girl, to six weeks' imprisonment. Pomuchel protested, he appealed, he supplicated; it was of no use; Häuning was imprisoned on account of her great valor. He told his story to every one who would listen, he poured out streams of abusive talk about the court; at last, one of the judges happened to hear of it, and the chancellor made Pomuchel a present of four weeks' imprisonment, for himself. He tried to buy off, with money; but it was no go; even the Herr Senator Bank said, "No! this time the poltroon should be served out." And so those two old brave people were confined in adjoining rooms, over Christmas, 1852, and New Year's, 1853; and when they had been there a fortnight the jailer remarked to his wife: "Fika, there is quite a difference between the two; he runs about his room as if he was crazy, berating everybody, and she sits there, stiff and stark, in the same place, where she sat down the first evening."
Malchen and Salchen, meanwhile, to the great distress of their elders, gave a great tea-party, to which Herr Süssmann was invited, as he had, merely out of compassion, accepted a situation in the Mählenstrasse.
When our old friend were set free, Pomuchelskopp sat down in the living room, and bewailed himself to his daughters. Häuning went straight to the kitchen, and there found a day-laborer's wife; for, during their imprisonment, there had been a great excitement, and the Rostock maid-servants had resolved that no respectable girl should go into service at the Pomuchelskopps. So they hired this woman by the day.
"What do you get a day?" asked Häuning.
"Sixteen groschen," was the reply. Häuning grasped the tongs, but bethought herself in time. But this self-control made the evil overflow into her blood, and three days after she was dead; and in three days more she was buried. Pomuchelskopp and his daughters do not know where she lies, and if any one inquires, they say, "She is buried over yonder,--over yonder." But Gustaving, who, in his capacity of inspector, often visits the city, knows. He took one of the little ones by the hand, and showed him the place: "See, Krischaning, mother is buried there."