Hauning said nothing to this advice, but she looked as if, for her part, she had no intention of acting upon it, and Pomuchelskopp turned to Malchen and Salchen: "Children, I beg of you, not a word of what is spoken here! Not a word to the servants! and be friendly to the people, and beg your dear mama to be friendly also. Lord knows, I have always been for friendliness!"

And then Malchen and Salchen began upon Hauning: "Mama, you have'nt heard, you don't know what is going on everywhere. Johann Jochen told in the kitchen how the laborers' wives have scourged the proprietor Z.

of X. with nettles. Mama, we must give in to them; it won't do."

"You are all fools," said Hauning, going out of the room. "Shall I be afraid of such a pack?" and she closed the door. But in this condition of supernatural, heroic courage, she stood quite alone, and without other help it was quite useless, for Muchel in his distress for the future, would neither stir nor move, and the remaining members of this simple family, for once, sided with their father.

"Children," cried the father, "every one must be treated kindly. The confounded wretches! Who would have thought of this, three months ago?

Philipping and Nanting, you must not beat the village children any more, and don't draw an a.s.s's head on the back of old Brinkman's coat again! These rascals! But they are set on by that cursed Rahnstadt Reformverein, and by the Jews and the shopkeepers; but wait a bit!"

"Yes, father," said Salchen, "and Ruhrdanz the weaver has already joined the Reformverein, and the rest of the villagers will all follow his example; and it may be a bad thing."

"Good heavens, I should think so! But wait, I must get the start of them, I will join it myself."

"You?" cried the two girls, in one breath, as if their father had proposed to sit fire to his house and home, with his own hands.

"I must, I must! It will make me popular among the burghers, so that they will not excite the canaille against me; I will pay up the tradesmen's bills, and--yes, it must be done,--I will advance something to my day-laborers."

Malchen and Salchen were astonished, never in their lives had they heard father talk like that; but they were still more astonished when father went on to say, "And let me tell you one thing, you must be very civil to the Herr Pastor and the Frau Pastorin,--good heavens, yes! Mother won't do it--Hauning, what trouble you make me! The parsonage people can do us a great deal of good, or a great deal of harm. Ah, what can not a proprietor and a pastor accomplish, if they stand faithfully by each other, in these bad times! We must send them a friendly invitation; by and by, when it is quiet again, we can drop the intercourse, if it does not suit us."

And sure enough! After a few days Pastor Gottlieb received a note containing the compliments of the Herr and the Frau Pomuchelskopp--for old Hauning had given in on this point--to the Herr Pastor and the Frau Pastorin, and requesting the honor of their company to dinner. The man waited for an answer. Brasig happened to be there, having come over to look after things a little. When Gottlieb read the invitation, he stood there, looking as if he had received a summons to the Ecclesiastical Consistory, to answer to charges of false doctrine, or immoral conduct.

"What?" he exclaimed, "an invitation from our proprietor? Where is Lining? Lining!" he called, out at the door. Lining came, read the letter, and looked at Gottlieb, who stood before her without a word, then she looked at Brasig, who sat in the sofa-corner, grinning like a Whitsun ox. "Well," she said at last, "we cannot go, of course?"

"Dear wife," said Pastor Gottlieb,--he always called her "dear wife,"

when he wished to throw the weight of his clerical dignity into the balance, at other times he said merely "Lining,"--"dear wife, you should not refuse the hand that your brother offers."

"Gottlieb," said Lining, "this is not a hand, it is a dinner, and the brother is Pomuchelskopp. Am I not right, Uncle Brasig?" Brasig said nothing, he only grinned, he sat there like Moses' David, when he had staked a louis-d'or, and waited to see whether clerical dignity, or good, sound common sense would turn the scale.

"Dear wife," continued Gottlieb, "it is written, 'Let not the sun go down upon your wrath,' and 'If thy brother smite thee on one cheek,'----"

"Gottlieb, that does not apply to this affair; we have no wrath against him, and as for smiting on the cheek, I am of Brasig's opinion. G.o.d forgive me the sin! it may have been different in old times, but if it were the fashion now, there would be a great deal of grumbling in the world, for we should all go about with swollen cheeks."

"But, dear wife----"

"Gottlieb, you know I never interfere in your clerical affairs; but a dinner is a worldly affair, and one at the Pomuchelskopps is more than worldly. And then, you quite forget, we have company. Isn't Uncle Brasig here? And wouldn't you rather dine here to-day, with Uncle Brasig, on pea soup and pigs' ears than at Pomuchelskopp's grand dinner? And they have not invited Mining either," she added, as Mining entered the room, "and they know that Mining lives with us."

This decided Gottlieb, he liked pea soup and was particularly fond of pigs' ears; and I must say that he thought highly of Uncle Brasig, who had helped him so much and stood by him so faithfully, and one of his greatest clerical grievances was that such a man as Uncle Brasig, whose life was so honest and honorable, had yet so little the outward demeanour of a Christian and churchman. So he declined Pomuchelskopp's invitation, but when they had sat down to their pea soup, and Brasig came out recklessly with the information that he was really a member of the Rahnstadt Reformverein, Pastor Gottlieb sprang to his feet, regardless of the pigs'-ears, and delivered a regular sermon against the Reformverein. Lining pulled him by the coat, now and then, telling him that his soup would be cold; but Gottlieb was not to be diverted: "Yes," he cried, "the vengeance of G.o.d has come upon the world; but woe to the men whom he chooses as the instruments of his vengeance!"

Since they were not in church Brasig ventured to interrupt him, inquiring whom the Lord had chosen for the purpose.

"That is in the hand of the Lord!" cried Gottlieb. "He may choose me, he may choose Lining, he may choose you."

"He will not choose Lining and me," said Brasig, wiping his mouth, "Lining fed the poor, in the year '47, and I have, for several weeks, declared for equality and fraternity in the Reformverein; I am no avenger, I wouldn't harm any man; but if I could get hold of Zamel Pomuchelskopp, then----"

Gottlieb was too excited to listen longer, and went on with his discourse: "Oh, the devil is going about the world like a roaring lion, and every speaker's stand, in these cursed Reformvereins, is an altar, on which sacrifice is offered to him; but I will oppose to this altar another; in the House of G.o.d I will preach against this sacrificing to devils, against these Reformvereins, against those false G.o.ds and their altars!"

With that, he resumed his seat, and ate, hastily, a couple of spoonfuls of pea-soup. Brasig left him in quiet for a while; but when he saw that the young clergyman had come back to worldly affairs sufficiently to attack the pigs' ears, he said, "Herr Pastor, you are right in one point, the speaker's stand at Rahnstadt looks uncommonly like a devil's altar, that is to say, a cooling-vat from a distillery; but I can't say that sacrifices are offered to him upon it, unless Wimmersdorf the tailor does it, or Kurz, or your respected father, for he always makes the longest speeches,--no, don't interrupt me!--I was only going to say, so far as I am acquainted with the devil, and that is now a good many years, he would not meddle with the Rahnstadt Reformverein, for he is not so stupid."

"Gottlieb," said Lining, "you know I never interfere with your clerical affairs, but you would surely not bring such a worldly matter as the Reformverein into the pulpit?"

Yes, he would, Gottlieb said.

"Well, then, go ahead!" said Brasig, "but what people say, that of all men the pastors understand their business the best, is not true, for, instead of preaching in the people who don't go to church, you will preach out those who do go."

And Uncle Brasig proved to be in the right, for when Gottlieb, one Sunday, preached with terrible zeal against the new times--of which, by the way, he understood about as much as if he had come into the world yesterday,--and against the Reformverein, and, the next Sunday, was going on with the business, only Lining and Mining and the s.e.xton were there to hear him, for a few old spinning women, who sat here and there, were not to be reckoned in the audience, since they did not come on account of the sermon, but only for the soup, which they got on Sunday noons at the parsonage. So he went home, with his sermon and his womenkind, the old women followed with their soup-kettles, the s.e.xton locked up the church, and Gottlieb felt like a soldier, who in his zeal has thrust his sword into the thick buckler of his enemy, and stands there without defence.

So the times were bad, all over the country, every one's hand was against his neighbor, the world was turned round, those who had something and had been boasters were become humble, those who had been counted wise were now thought foolish, and fools grew into wise men over night; the distinguished were of no account, n.o.ble men gave up their n.o.bility, and day-laborers were called "Herr."

But two things ran like a thread through all this confusion of cowardice and insolence, which had power to comfort and cheer. One thread was gay-colored, and when one came near enough, and could free himself from the common anxiety and the common greediness, he could find much amus.e.m.e.nt in it, that was the ludicrous side of human nature, which turned up so clearly; the other thread was rose-colored, and upon it hung everything with which one human being could make others happy, pity and compa.s.sion, sound common sense and reason, honest labor and self-denial, and this thread was love, pure human love, which is woven through the dull gray web of selfishness by helpful hands, as a token from G.o.d, that shall remain in the worst of times; and who knows but this stripe may grow broader and broader till the whole gray web turn rosy red, for this thread,--thank G.o.d!--is never cut off.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

Rexow was quiet. That means the day-laborers, Frau Nussler and Rudolph; young Jochen and young Bauschan were not so well off. Young Bauschan had taken a stroll through the cow-shed, and had observed there, under the care of old Fla.s.skopf, the cow-herd, a droll little beast, which seemed to him almost like a photograph of himself, and was also named Bauschan; he could remember, from his childish years, the circ.u.mstances under which he had succeeded Bauschan the sixth upon the Rexow throne, and he at last came upon the gloomy thought that this copy of himself, so carefully brought up on sweet milk, by Jochen Fla.s.skopf, was in training for some high destiny, and might possibly, under the name of Bauschan the eighth, be his own successor; it would be in accordance with the times. He was greatly troubled, and could not decide what to do, whether, under the pretext that he could not accommodate himself to the times, and preferred to a.s.sociate Bauschan the eighth with himself, under the t.i.tle of co-regent, he should share with him the rule of Rexow; or whether he should treat him as a pretender, eat up his sweet milk, put fleas in his skin, and drive him out of the Rexow country, in short, declare war against him.

He kept watch of Jochen, to see what should be the upshot of the matter; but young Jochen, in these days, had enough to think about in his own affairs, he also was in the greatest agitation, and the times were so bad, that these two old friends were no longer united, but were agitated from wholly different causes; Bauschan looked upon a pretender to the crown as a great nuisance, Jochen positively wished for one; Bauschan looked with great disgust upon a private condition, with gnawed bones, which he could no longer bite; Jochen looked upon it as a golden cup, which Mining should fill for him with coffee in the morning, mother with strong beer at noon, and chocolate in the evening, and, when Brasig was there, with punch; he wished to be rid of the sovereignty, especially in such times as these, when one could not smoke his pipe in peace. He always read the "Rostock Times," but always threw it aside with vexation, saying to his wife, "Mother, they say nothing yet about the geese."

He imagined he was counted all over the country as a hard-hearted master, because, upon Rudolph's advice, he had exchanged the geese his day-laborers were accustomed to raise for a good piece of money, and he considered it the sacred obligation of the "Rostock Times," which he had read now for over forty years, to take his part on the goose question. And in my opinion, the "Rostock Times" might very well have done so, but they may have forgotten the matter, or possibly never heard of it at all. But he came near going distracted over it; if two girls stood together chattering about their cap-ribbons, he believed they were talking about the fact that no goose-eggs had been set in Rexow that year, and if two day-laborers, threshing oats on the barn-floor, talked about their wages, he thought they were grumbling, because they had no geese at harvest-time, to eat the oats. He could not accommodate himself to these new times, and new methods of farming, and was positively decided to rule no longer; Bauschan, on the contrary, was quite unwilling to abdicate, and so, between these two old friends, the egg was broken, and the bond was severed.

Frau Nussler was, in spite of these wild times, very quiet, as I have said; but Jochen's condition made her anxious, and she often looked out for Brasig. "I cannot imagine," she said to Rudolph, "why Brasig does not come. He has nothing in the world to do, yet he does not look after me at all."

"Well, mother," said Rudolph, "you know what he is; if he has nothing to do, he makes something to do. However, he is coming to-morrow."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, mother," said Rudolph, hesitating a little, "I was over in our rye this morning, near the Gurlitz boundary, and I ran over to the parsonage a minute; he was there, and he will come to-morrow."

"Rudolph, you are not to go running over there so, I will not have it; when I go with you on Sundays, that is another thing. There you go chattering and chattering, and putting all sorts of nonsense about weddings and marriage into Mining's head, and nothing can come of it yet."

"Eh, mother, if we don't get married before long, we shall both be old and cold."

"Rudolph," said Frau Nussler, as she left the room, "what is to become, then, of Jochen and me? We are still young, and able to work, shall we be laid on the shelf?"

"Well," said Rudolph to himself, when she had gone out, "you are not so very young, after all. These old people can give themselves no rest!

The old man might be willing, but the old woman would work three young ones dead. Well, Brasig is coming to-morrow; I will have Brasig on my side."

And Brasig came. "Good morning! Sit still, Jochen! Well, have you had a little rebellion here, already?"

"Eh!" said Jochen, smoking furiously, "what shall I do about it, Bauschan?" for he must ask Bauschan, since Brasig was already out of the room, and calling after Frau Nussler.

"Good gracious, Brasig!" said she, drying her hands on her ap.r.o.n, for she had washed them hastily, not wishing to offer him a pair of doughy hands, for she had just been kneading bread, "why do you never come near us, and in these dreadful times? How is my brother Karl?"

"'Bonus!' as the Herr Advocate Rein says, or 'bong' as the greyhound says, or he is doing well, as I say; only that he is always thinking of the destruction of his honest name, and the separation of his little Louise from Franz, and these inward wounds injure him, in every relation, so that he will have nothing to do with the Reformverein, and Parliament, and political matters."

"Thank G.o.d!" said Frau Nussler, "I know my brother Karl well enough to be sure he would have nothing to do with such fool's play."