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SELDWYLA FOLKS
THREE SINGULAR TALES
SELDWYLA FOLKS
THREE SINGULAR TALES
BY
THE SWISS POET
GOTTFRIED KELLER
TRANSLATIONS BY
WOLF VON SCHIERBRAND, Ph.D.
NEW YORK
BRENTANO'S
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1919
BRENTANO'S
* * *
_All rights reserved_
PREFACE
Gottfried Keller may fitly be called the greatest narrative writer that
Switzerland has ever produced. Born July 19, 1819, near Zurich, he was
reared in direst poverty. By dint of the hardest labor and by
practicing the utmost frugality, his father was barely able to provide
bread for wife and children. But in the midst of this penury the genius
of his young son Gottfried expanded. As a mere child he gave already
unmistakable evidence of being a dreamer, a thinker, a philosopher, a
"fabulist," an artist. Just able to write, the little boy forever
scribbled poems and fanciful tales, made rapid sketches with pencil and
pen, portraits, caricatures, landscapes. At the village school he
imbibed knowledge like a sponge. Soon the gnarled old schoolmaster,
half peasant, half teacher, looked aghast at his little scholar: he had
no more to teach him. Generous friends sent the youth to Munich, there
to study art. For at that time his desire was to become a great
painter. Desperately and with fiery energy the young fellow devoted
himself to study, and his attainments were considerable. They would
fully have sufficed for a career as a mediocre portrait painter. But
his very excess of zeal led to surfeit, to exhaustion, to a period of
lethargy. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." This fit of
listlessness lasted even for some time after Gottfried's return home.
All effort with him slackened.
Patrons finally intervened. With their aid he went to Heidelberg, and
for two full years, 1848-1850, he there pursued literary and historical
research. The historian, Hettner, took great interest in the young
Swiss. Next he went to Berlin, and during the ensuing five years he
wrote and studied in a desultory manner there. Great attention was paid
him by Goethe's intimate friend, Varnhagen von Ense, and the latter's
wife, the "seeress," Rahel, who drew the shy young man into their wide
literary circle, comprising for two decades the _beaux esprits_ of the
capital. But his bluntness of speech, his sturdy Swiss republicanism,
often gave offense.
For that was one of the remarkable points about Gottfried Keller:
despite his long residence on German soil and the flattering reception
accorded him by the intellectual _elite_ there, he remained a thorough
democrat, an uncompromising friend of the plain people, a fearless
champion of Swiss free government, a hater of tyranny in any form, a
despiser of monarchs and their favors. Among his poems, later collected
into a bulky tome, there are many that breathe defiance to royalty by
"divine grace."
Much of this sentiment of anti-monarchism has crept into his first
great work, the "Gruener Heinrich." This, a sort of autobiography in
guise of a big novel, alive with adventure as well as thoughts on men
and things, he first published from 1854 to 1855, but it was afterward
recast in characteristic fashion, 1879-1881. In a manner of speaking,
his "Gruener Heinrich" is also a confession of faith. There are many
didactic passages in it; the whole book, in fact, breathes the
convictions of its author. This is still more the case with the last
great work from Keller's pen, "Martin Salander," where the frequent
political and social precepts interwoven into the text of the story
form, from the purely artistic viewpoint, a serious blemish.
It is generally conceded that Keller's masterpiece is "Seldwyla Folks"
("Die Leute von Seldwyla"), which appeared in two sections, the first
of these in 1856, the second in 1874. From this group of weird,
fantastic tales the three forming the contents of this book are taken.
About the origin of the title Keller himself has written in his
inimitably oracular and whimsical style. The name and the town itself
are wholly fictitious. They represent a sort of collective traits of a
number of ancient, unprogressive Swiss towns, left head over heels in
medievalism, in outworn customs, with some peculiar features
exclusively their own. Each tale is a jewel cut and polished, a
distinctive literary entity, something that may not be duplicated
elsewhere in the whole realm of letters, with a full flavor of its own.
Where, for instance, in the literature of any tongue, is to be found a
humorous-sarcastic story of the raciness of "The Three Decent
Combmakers"?
From 1861 to 1878 Keller filled, to the eminent satisfaction of his
countrymen, the important and remunerative office of "Staatsschreiber,"
one that combined the duties of secretary of state with those of
custodian of documents and librarian for his native canton, which was
offered him in direct recognition of his literary merits. As such he
utilized for a cycle of semi-historical tales some of the most curious
records in his keeping, which are embalmed in his "Zurich Stories"
(Zuericher Novellen), 1877. In the year after that he retired from
office, and in 1882 appeared "The Epigram" (Das Sinngedicht), in 1883
his "Seven Legends," based on some of the Lives of the Saints,
singularly humanized and modernized, and in 1886 finally "Martin
Salander," an intensely patriotic and peculiarly Helvetian novel. He
was also a master of the short story, a sadly neglected field in
Teutonic literature.
Meanwhile, wherever German was understood or spoken the writings of
Gottfried Keller had found intense appreciation, at first slowly, then
more rapidly, and eminent German critics and authors, such as Theodore
Storm, Berthold Auerbach, F. Th. Vischer and others, had pronounced
themselves ardent admirers of his. But in 1890 he died, after a
lingering illness.
The question may well be asked how it is that the literary lifework
of such a man as Gottfried Keller has for so many years been denied
the most sincere form of homage, that of translation, by the whole
non-German-speaking world. There may be additional reasons for this
seeming neglect, but I believe the chief one lies in the fact of the
unusual difficulty of the task. To cast the thoughts and conceits of an
individualistic writer into another vehicle of speech is in itself no
easy matter. But in the case of Gottfried Keller it is especially so.
For the man, as I took pains to point out, was a Swiss, not by any
manner of means a German. And not only is the subject matter of his
lyrical and epical output strongly tinged with Helvetism, but his very
language as well. The Swiss-German vernacular is more than a mere
dialect; it is almost a tongue of its own. On all but on the few solemn
and formal occasions of life the Swiss expresses himself in what he
terms "Schwyzer-Duetsch," which is indeed scarcely understood by persons
habituated to German proper, and even when the Swiss author perforce
drops into the latter he uses so many peculiarly Helvetian terms and
modes of speech, so many archaic saws, his whole method of handling the
language is so different that to reshape what he says into another
tongue without doing violence to the spirit, the soul, the flavor and
thus marring the translation irretrievably and doing gross injustice to
the original becomes doubly hard.
I can only say that I have done in this respect what was humanly
possible. What the final result has turned out to be is for the court
of last resort, for the final arbiter, the reader, to say.
W. V. S.
CONTENTS
PREFACE
THREE DECENT COMBMAKERS
DIETEGEN
ROMEO AND JULIET OF THE VILLAGE
THE THREE DECENT COMBMAKERS
THE THREE DECENT
COMBMAKERS
The people of Seldwyla have furnished proof that a whole townful of the
unjust or frivolous may, after all, continue for ages to exist despite
changes of time and traffic; the three combmakers, though, demonstrate
as clearly that not even three decent human beings may manage to live
for a long stretch under one roof without getting their backs up. And
with decent, with just, is not by any means meant heavenly justice, nor
even the natural justice of the human conscience, but rather that
vacuous justice which from the Lord's Prayer has struck the plea: And
forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors! And this simply
because they never contract any debts whatever and cannot stand the
idea of debts. Indeed, also because they live to no one's harm, but
also to no one's pleasure; because, true enough, they work and earn
money, but will not spend a stuyver, and find in their laboring task
some small profit but never any joy. Such soberly decent chaps do not
smash window panes for the wicked fun of it, but neither do they ever
light any lanterns of their own, and no enlightenment proceeds from
them. They toil at all sorts of things, and one thing, to their minds,
is as good as another, so long as no risk or danger be involved. But
they prefer to settle in such places where there are many unjust in
their sense. For if left to themselves, without any mingling with the
said unjust, they would soon grind each other sorely, as do millstones
which lack corn between. And if at any time some piece of ill-luck
befalls them, they are greatly amazed and wail and whine as though
their last hour had come, inasmuch as they, so they say, have never
done harm to anyone. For they look upon this world of ours as a huge
and well-organized police department in which nobody need fear any fine
or punishment so long as he unfailingly sweeps his sidewalk, does not
leave flowerpots standing loosely on his window sill and does not pour
any water into the street.
Now in Seldwyla there was a combmaking establishment the owner of which
habitually changed every fifth or sixth year, and this although it did
fair business when taken proper care of. For the small traders and
stand-keepers who attended the fairs in the neighborhood, obtained
there their horn wares. Beside the horn rasps and files, the implements
of various kinds, the most marvelous ornaments and back-combs of every
description for the use of the village belles and servant maids were
made there out of handsome transparent ox horns, and the rare skill of
the workmen (for, of course, the master never actually toiled himself)
consisted in branding and searing the close counterfeit of the most
artistically designed clouds of reddish brown tortoise shell, each
according to his conceit and fancy, so that, when admiring these combs
as the light played on their fantastic cumulations, it looked almost as
though the most magnificent sunups and sundowns were concealed within
the polished horn surface, rubicund gatherings of cloudlets,
thunderstorms and tornadoes, as well as still other varicolored
manifestations of the forces of Nature.
In the summertime, when these proud artisans loved to wander over the
surface of the land and when they were scarce, they were treated with
courtesy by the masters, and received good board and wages. But during
the winter, at a time when they were looking for shelter and were
plentiful, they had to be humble, had to turn out combs till their very
pates smoked with the effort, and all for slender pay. During that
inauspicious season the mistress of the house one day after another
would put a big dish of sourkrout on the table, and the master himself
would then say: "These are fish!" And if at such a time any fellow was
rash enough to remark: "With your permission, this is sourkrout!" he
was instantly handed his walking papers and had to issue forth into the
dreary winter landscape. However, as soon as the meadows once more
turned green and the roads became passable, they all said: "All the
same, it's sourkrout!" and made up their bundle. For even in case the
mistress instantly threw a boiled ham on top of the smoking sourkrout,
and the master would murmur: "Goodness, I thought all along it was
fish! But this time, surely, it is a ham!" nevertheless the workmen
were not to be propitiated any longer. They longed for freedom and the
open, as during the long winter all three of them had had to sleep in
one bed and had grown thoroughly tired of each other because of the
continual kicking of ribs and because of frozen and numbed bare sides.
But it so happened that once a decent and gentle soul came that way,
from out of the Saxon lands, and this good fellow complied with
everything, worked as hard as any ant and was absolutely not to be
frozen out, in such fashion that finally he became so to speak a part
of the furnishings of the house and saw the owners changing several
times, those years being somewhat more given to changes than of yore.
Jobst (such was the creature's name) stretched himself in the bed as
stiff as a ramrod and maintained his particular place next the wall,
both winter and summer. He likewise willingly accepted the sourkrout
for fish, and in the spring received with humble thanks a mouthful of
the ham. His lesser wages he put aside as he did his larger ones. For
he never spent anything; rather he saved every penny. He did not live
like the other workmen: he never touched a drop of wine, did not
associate with any of his own countrymen nor with other young fellows,
but stood evenings under the house door and joked with the old women,
lifted the heavy water pails upon their padded heads, at least when he
chanced to be in good humor, and went to bed with the chickens, except
at such times as he could do extra work against extra pay. Sundays he
also toiled until late into the afternoon, no matter if the weather was
fine. But do not assume that he did all this with pleasure and
alacrity, as did John the merry Chandler in the well-known song. On the
contrary, he was always cast-down and of ill-humor because of these
voluntary abstentions from the amenities of life, and he was forever
complaining about his hard lot. Come Sunday afternoon, however, Jobst
went in all the disarray and filth of workaday, and with his clattering
sabots across the lane and fetched from the laundress his clean shirt
and his neatly ironed "dicky," his high linen collar or his better
handkerchief, and proceeded to carry these things in his hands to his
room, stepping the while with that rooster-like majesty which used to
distinguish the prideful artisan of former days. For it belonged to
their privileges, when walking attired in leather apron and heavy
slippers, to observe a very peculiar stride, affected and as though
they were floating in upper spheres. And of them all the highly
instructed bookbinders, the jolly shoemakers and cobblers, and the
rarer and queer-mannered combmakers excelled in these mannerisms. But
arrived in his little chamber Jobst once more took thought to himself,
ruminating and seriously reflecting as to whether it was really worth
while to don the clean shirt and the snowy "dicky." For with all his
gentleness and moral decency he was, after all, somewhat of a swinish
fellow, and thus doubts arose in his penurious little soul as to the
advisability of the whole proceeding, and as to whether the soiled
linen would not do just as well for another week or so, in which latter
case he would simply remain at home and work a little more. Then he
would sit down with a sigh and begin anew, teeth clenched and mien
fierce, cutting into the horn, or else he would transmute the horn into
pseudo-tortoise shell, in doing which, however, he never forgot his
innate sobriety and want of imagination, so that he always put but the
same odious three splotches into the smooth surface. For with him it
was always thus that he would not use even the slightest trouble if he
was not specially bidden to do so.
On the other hand, if his resolution ripened into the actual taking of
a walk, he spent first one or two hours painfully adorning himself,
next he took his dapper little cane and stalked stiffly towards the
gate of the town, and there he would stand around humbly and tediously
and would carry on stupid gossip with others of the same ilk, some of
those who did not know any more than himself how to kill time
pleasantly, perhaps ancient and decrepit Seldwylians who had neither
money nor gumption to find their way into the gay tavern. With such
godforsaken old fossils he was in the habit of placing himself in front
of a house in process of construction, or near a field in seed, before
an apple tree injured in the last storm, or perhaps next to a new yarn
factory, and then he would discuss with an infinitude of detail these
things, the need of them, their cost, about the hopes entertained as to
the next crop, and about the actual condition of the fields, of all of
which he would know no more than the man in the moon. In fact, he did
not care whether he did or not; the main thing with him was that time
thus slipped away in what to him appeared the cheapest and the
pleasantest manner. And thus it came about that these, the old and
decrepit Seldwylians, only spoke of him as the "well-mannered and
sensible Saxon," for they themselves understood not a whit more than he
himself. When the people of Seldwyla founded a large brewery on shares,
hoping therefrom for huge business in their town, and when the
extensive foundation walls emerged from the ground, Jobst used to make
it his task of boring into the soil thereabouts with his cane, talking
like an expert and showing the keenest interest in the progress of the
work, for all the world as if he were the most assiduous toper himself
and as if the success or non-success of the enterprise were a matter of
life and death with him. "No indeed," he would then exclaim in his
lisping voice, "this is a shplendid undertakking. Only, the devil of it
is it costs so mooch monnee! So mooch monnee! It's a pity! And here,
this here vault ought really to be a leetle, yoost a leetle bit deeper,
and this wall a leetle bit thicker." And the other idiots sided with
him and said he knew all about it.
However, for all his enthusiasm he never failed to show up in time for
his Sunday supper. For that was indeed the sole chagrin he inflicted on
the mistress at home that he never missed a meal, Sunday or any other
day. The other workmen would go to the tavern with their comrades and
friends, dance, play cards and amuse themselves. But not so Jobst. On
his account alone the master's wife was forced to remain at home
Sundays, or else to provide his lonesome supper. And then, after
chewing as long as he could his portion of bread and sausage or cold
meat, he would spend another considerable while pawing over his slender
possessions, fingering them as though they were the treasures of
Aladdin, with bated breath, and then he would retire to his strictly
virtuous couch. That according to his notions had been an enjoyable, a
roystering Sunday.
But with all his humble, decent and inconspicuous ways, Jobst was not
lacking in a species of inner, hidden irony, as though in his own
peculiar way he were making fun of the world with its vanity and its
foolishness. Indeed he seemed even to have strong doubts as to the
grandeur and worth of things in general, and to be conscious of
harboring within his own soul plans far more momentous and stirring. On
Sundays, notably when delivering his expert opinions on creation as a
whole, he often showed a face alive with superior, with almost owlish
wisdom. It was plainly to be seen in his pinched features how he
carried within his inmost ken plans of immense importance, plans
compared with which the doings of the others, after all, were but as
child's play. The great, the overwhelmingly great plan he cherished day
and night and which had been all these years his loadstar, ever since
he had first appeared in Seldwyla, amounted indeed to this: To save his
wages until there would be a sum sufficient to present himself some
fine morning, on an occasion when the business would be once more for
sale, with the money in his hand and purchase it, himself at last
becoming owner and master.
This darling hope lay at the bottom of all his scheming and contriving,
as he had not failed to notice how an industrious and abstemious man
could not fail to flourish in Seldwyla. He, to be sure, was such a man,
one who went his own quiet way and who was bound to profit from the
carelessness of the people thereabouts without falling into the same
errors as these. And once master and owner of the establishment, it
would not be difficult for him to acquire citizenship and then, he
calculated, he would spend the remainder of his life more sensibly and
economically than any previous citizen of Seldwyla had ever done, not
bothering the slightest about anything which was not likely to increase
his wealth, not spending a penny, but accumulating more and more money,
watching all the time his chances among the spendthrifts of the town.
This plan was indeed as simple as it was sensible and well-considered,
especially as he had begun to realize it, in his own slow but sure way,
for a number of years past. For he had already saved up quite a neat
little sum; this he had hidden away securely, and with things going on
as they had hitherto, it was but a question of time when his scheme
would attain full fruition.
But there was one point about his plan which seemed to brand it as
almost inhuman. That was the fact that Jobst had conceived it at all,
that is, in Seldwyla, for nothing in his heart really inclined him to
Seldwyla, and nothing compelled him to remain there. He cared not a fig
really either for the town or its inhabitants, either for the political
condition of the country or its manners and customs. All this was as
indifferent to him as was his own native land, and which latter he did
not even care to ever see again. In a hundred other places of the world
he might have equally well succeeded with his diligence and his habits.
However, he had discarded all sense of free choice, and with his
grossly grasping senses he had seized upon the first tendril of hope
that offered, in order to keep hold and suck himself through it full of
wealth and vigor. The saying, it is true, is: "Where I fare well, there
is my home," and this may be true enough in the case of those who can
really show some good and sufficient reasons why they love their new
country and who of their free and conscious will went out into the wide
world in order to achieve success and to return as men of weight, or of
those who escape unfortunate conditions at home and, obeying a strong
tendency, join the modern migration across the seas; or of those who
somewhere have found better and truer friends than at home, or who
discovered conditions abroad that suited their ideals and secret hopes
better or who became bound by stronger ties abroad. And this new home
in any case, this second home where they found things more to their
taste and where they succeeded well, they necessarily must care for, so
long as there they are treated humanely and fairly. Jobst, however,
scarcely knew where he was; the institutions and customs of the Swiss
he was unable to understand, and he merely said sometimes: "Why, yes,
the Swiss are strong on politics. Maybe that's good, so long as one
likes it. But I don't, and where I'm from nobody ever bothered about
political things."
The customs of the Seldwylians he hated, and he felt afraid of their
noisy demonstrations when they organized a political procession or had
mass meetings. At such times he sat in the rear of the workshop and
feared bloody riots and murder growing out of it all. But nevertheless
it remained his sole object and his great secret to stay on in Seldwyla
until the end of his days. Such just and decent persons like him you
will find scattered all over the earth, and where they are for no
better reason than that it just so happened they got hold without
trouble of their own of one of these sucking tubes guaranteeing a
satisfactory income. And this they do steadily, giving no thought the
while to the land of their birth, but without loving their new home,
without a glance to right or left, and thus resembling not so much a
freeman as one of those lower organisms, odd animalculae or vegetable
seeds, which by the whims of wind or water are accidentally carried to
the spot where they flourish.
Thus Jobst had lived year after year in Seldwyla, slowly but constantly
adding to his secret store which he had buried under the tiles of his
chamber floor. No tailor could boast of having earned anything through
him, for he still possessed the same Sunday coat in which he had
arrived in town, and the garment was still in the same condition.
Neither had any shoemaker done any work for him in Seldwyla, for the
soles of his boots were still intact. The year, after all, has but
fifty-two Sundays, and only the half of these were utilized by him for
a walk. Nobody, in fact, had been the better for his stay in town; as
soon as he received his wages the money went to the hiding-place
mentioned, and even when he went off on his Sunday excursions he never
put a coin in his pocket, so as to foil any temptation for spending.
When hucksters or old women came to the shop with goods or fruit, with
cherries, plums or pears, it was amusing to watch Jobst, who tenderly
felt of the quality of the fruit, entered into discussions with the
vendors, thus leading these to indulge false and extravagant hopes,
only to be disappointed. He would, however, advise his comrades as to
how to make the most of their purchases, how to bake their apples in
the oven, to peel them or to stew them, without ever asking for or
receiving one mouthful himself. But though nobody ever saw the color of
his money, neither did they ever hear him swear, show any anger, demand
anything not strictly within his rights, or give vent to ill-humor. He
was the very essence of pacifism. He carefully avoided quarrels or
argument, and he did not even make a wry face when anyone, as happened
frequently, would play tricks on him. And while indeed eaten up
constantly with curiosity as to the issue of every kind of gossip,
disputes or wrangling he had come to know about, since these furnished
him with one of his chief amusements, and while he would keep a strict
account and inquire in a mild way about them and the right and wrong in
each case, the while the other workmen were indulging in their rude
brawls or tavern orgies, he nevertheless was mighty careful never to
interfere or to take a decided part for or against. In short, he was a
most curious medley of truly heroic wisdom and persistence, coupled
with a gentle but pronounced want of heart and feeling.
At one time he had been for many weeks the sole workman in the
establishment, and he had flourished under these circumstances like a
green bay tree. Nights especially he rejoiced in the exclusive tenancy
of the big, wide bed. He made full use of his opportunities, and went
through incredible contortions while stretching his lank limbs in the
bed. He in a manner trebled his person, changing his posture
ceaselessly, and indulged in the hallucination that, as usual, there
were three of them and he were urgently requested by the other two not
to stand on ceremony and to take things easy. The third one being
himself, he voluptuously complied with the invitation, wrapped himself
completely in the feather bed, or else straddled his legs, lay across
the full width of the couch, or in the harmless exuberance of delight
would even turn a decent somersault or two.
But alas! the day came when he, already indulging in some such innocent
capers, after having retired early, suddenly saw a strange workman
sedately enter the chamber, being led thither by the mistress of the
house. Jobst was just lying in measureless comfort with his head at the
foot of the bed, his not quite immaculate feet on the pillows, when
this happened. The stranger unfastened his heavy knapsack from his
back, stood it in a corner, and then, without loss of time, began to
undress, since he felt very tired. Jobst quick as a flash assumed the
proper position in bed and stretched himself along his accustomed spot
next to the wall. While doing this the thought rushed through his head:
"Surely he'll soon clear out again, since it is summertime and fine
weather for roaming about."
This hope on further consideration took firm root, and with sundry
sighs and grunts lulled him to sleep. He dreamt, though, of a speedy
resumption of the kicking and rowing in bed, and a nightmare woke him
in the middle of the night, an evil omen. He was amazed, however, when
dawn came, and he had felt neither pokes in the ribs, nor had been
feloniously deprived of his share of the covering. Not only that; the
new arrival, although a Bavarian, was inordinately polite, peaceable
and well-behaved, for all the world like a counterpart of his own self.
This unheard-of fact cost Jobst his calmness of mind. He could not
drive the misgivings thus engendered from his head. And while the two
were dressing in the dim light of early morning, he scrutinized his new
fellow-worker closely. It seemed a singular case to him. He observed
that this new man, like himself, was no longer quite young, but cleanly
and decent in speech and manners. The Bavarian on his part with words
well-set and sober inquired of Jobst about the circumstances of life in
Seldwyla, just about in the same way in which he himself would have
done it. As soon as this became apparent to him, Jobst grew secretive
and kept to himself the simplest and most harmless things, opining
that, of course, the Bavarian must have some occult motive in coming to
this town. To ascertain this secret now became the prime object with
him. That there was a deep secret he never had the slightest doubt.
Why else should this man, just like himself, be such a gentle,
smooth-spoken and experienced sort? Only by the theory of his harboring
a deep-laid scheme, of being a designing person, could he explain
matters to himself. And thus began a kind of silent, never-sleeping
warfare between these two. Each did his best to find out the "secret"
of the other; but it was all done with the greatest precaution, in
words of double meaning, by amiable subterfuges and in peaceable ways.
Neither ever gave a clear answer to any question, but yet after the
lapse of but a few hours each of the pair was firmly convinced that the
other was in all essential respects his own double. And when in the
course of the day Fridolin, the Bavarian, several times visited the
chamber and busied himself with something, Jobst seized upon the first
chance to go there likewise at a moment when the other was fully
occupied with his work, and hurriedly made a search of Fridolin's
personal property. However, he discovered nothing but almost precisely
the same articles owned by himself, down to a small wooden needle case,
except that here he found it in the shape of a fish, while his own bore
a sportive resemblance to a baby; and, further, in lieu of a somewhat
dilapidated conversational grammar for popular use in which Jobst
sometimes studied French, the Bavarian could boast of a neatly bound
copy of a book entitled "The cold and the hot Vat, an indispensable
Handbook for Dyers." And in it there was a penciled note on the margin:
"Pledge for three Stuyvers which the Nassau man borrowed of me." From
this Jobst judged that he was dealing with somebody who knew how to
take care of his own, and thinking so instinctively cast searching
glances along the floor. Soon, too, he noticed a tile which seemed to
have recently been removed. And sure enough, when he took this out, he
found the man's treasure, folded and wrapped in the half of an old
handkerchief tightly wound about with tough twine, almost as heavy as
his own, although his was encased in an old sock. Trembling with
excitement he replaced the tile in its yawning hole, trembling at the
thought of such admirable foresight and wise economy in the case of
another, a rival, a competitor. He flew down the stairs, and in the
workshop he set to as if it depended on his exertions to provide the
entire world with combs for generations to come. And the Bavarian did
the same, as if Heaven itself must also be combed. During the ensuing
week each found full confirmation of his first suspicion. For if Jobst
was industrious and frugal, Fridolin was active and abstemious, and
with the same regretful sighs at the difficulty of these virtues. And
when Jobst was serene and sapient, Fridolin was jocular and knowing. If
the one was humble, the other was even more so. When Jobst showed
himself sly or ironical, the other was sarcastic and almost astute. And
if Jobst made a face betraying his peaceful disposition, his double
succeeded in putting on an air of incomparable asininity.
The whole was not so much a race between the two as it was the simple
exercise of conscious mastery in all these arts. Each was fully
permeated with the conviction that the other would excel him if not
constantly on the watch. Neither disdained imitating the other. Each of
them was forever on the lookout to perfect himself, taking the other as
a model in any traits which he himself might yet lack or be deficient
in. And with all that they looked most of the time as though each was
perfectly incapable of seeing through the other. Thus they resembled
two doughty heroes who behave towards each other with knightly courtesy
and even assist one another until the moment shall arrive when they
begin to hack away at each other.
However, after the lapse of this week a third came, a Suabian, by name
Dietrich, whereat the two in silence rejoiced, as at a jolly foil
against which their own greatness of soul could best be measured and
compared. And they intended to place the poor little Suabian between
their own selves, to make the contrast between him and their own patent
virtues all the more striking, about as in the case of two stately
lions with a tiny monkey between, with whom they might deign to play.
But who can describe their astonishment when they observed that the
Suabian behaved precisely in the same manner as themselves, and when
the recognition of a kindred soul took place by the identical processes
as had been the case before. The same adroit system of standing
sentinel over each other was repeated. But with this signal difference,
that now it was a triangular game, whereby not only they themselves
altered somewhat their own attitude, but the third man his also, and
that they all three finally stood towards each other in distinctly
different positions.
This became first apparent on the night of his arrival when they took
him between themselves in bed. The Suabian demonstrated his entire
parity. Like a match he lay within the slim space, so perfectly poised
and without the flicker of an eyelid that there actually remained a bit
of room, of neutral territory, on either side. And the bed cover
remained spread over the trio as tight and smooth as the wrapping paper
over three herrings. He was evidently their match. The situation now
commenced to be more serious, more complicated, and since all three now
faced each other like the three corners of a triangle, and since no
friendly or confidential relations were under these circumstances
feasible between them, no armistice or courtly tournament, they got
into a state of mind where they with malice aforethought, each in his
own way and with his own weapons, gently and slily began to try ousting
each other out of bed and house.
When the master of the house saw that these three queer customers would
put up with anything, if only they were allowed to remain in his
service, he first lowered their wages, and next gave them scanter fare.
But this only led to an aggravation of diligence on their part, and
that again enabled him to flood the whole surrounding district with his
goods, and he got orders upon orders, so that he made a pile of money
out of their cheap labor and possessed a veritable gold mine in them.
He let out his leather belt around the loins by several holes and
began to play quite an important part in the town, while all this time
his foolish workmen slaved like beasts of burden in their dark and
ill-ventilated shop at home, striving, each of them, to force the other
two out of the race. Dietrich, the Suabian, although the youngest of
them, proved of the same calibre as the other two. The only difference
was that he as yet had scarcely any savings, inasmuch as he had not yet
traveled around much, having been a prentice until recently. This would
have been an unfortunate obstacle for him in the race, for Jobst and
Fridolin would have had greatly the start of him, if he as a Suabian
had not been inventive in stratagem. For although Dietrich's heart,
like that of the others, was wholly bare of any sinful or earthly
passion, always excepting the one of persisting to remain in Seldwyla
and nowhere else, and to reap all the advantages of that plan, he
nevertheless bethought him of the trick of falling in love and to woo
such a maiden as should possess about such a dowry in size as the
respective treasures which the Saxon or the Bavarian had hidden under
their tiles.
It was one of the better peculiarities of the Seldwyla folk that they
were averse to wed unattractive or unamiable women just for the sake of
a somewhat larger dowry. There was no very great temptation anyway, for
wealthy heiresses there were none in their town, either pretty or
homely ones, and thus they at least maintained their sturdy and manly
independence even by disdaining the smaller mouthfuls, and preferred to
unite themselves rather with goodlooking and merry girls, and thus lead
for a few years with them at any rate a happy life. Hence it was not
hard for the Suabian, spying about for a suitable partner, to find his
way into the good graces of a virtuous maiden. She dwelt in the same
street, and in conversation with old women he had soon ascertained that
she possessed as her own undoubted property a mortgage of seven hundred
florins. This maiden was Zues Buenzlin, the twenty-eight-year-old
daughter of a washerwoman. She lived with her mother, but could freely
dispose of this legacy from her deceased father. This valuable bit of
paper she kept in a highly varnished trunk. There, too, she had the
accumulated interest money, her baptismal certificate, her testimonial
of confirmation, and a painted and gilt Easter egg; in addition to all
this she preserved there half a dozen silver spoons, the Lord's Prayer
printed in gold letters upon transparent glass, although she believed
the material to be human skin, a cherry stone into which was carved the
Passion of Christ, and a small box of ivory, lined with red satin, and
in which were concealed a tiny mirror and a silver thimble; there was
also in it another cherry stone in which you could hear clattering a
diminutive set of ninepins, a nutshell in which a madonna became
visible behind glass, a silver heart, in a hollow of which was a scent
bottle, and a candy box fashioned out of dried lemon peel, on the cover
of which was painted a strawberry, and in which there might be
discovered a golden pin displayed on a couch of cotton wool
representing a forget-me-not, and a locket showing on the inside a
monument woven out of hair; lastly, a bundle of age-yellowed papers
with recipes, secrets, and so forth; also a small flask of Cologne
water, another holding stomach drops, a box of musk, another with
marten excrements, and a small basket woven out of odoriferous grasses,
another of beads and cloves, and then a small book bound in sky-blue
silk and entitled "Golden Life Rules for the Maiden as Betrothed, Wife
and Mother"; and a dream book, a letter writer, five or six love
letters, and a lancet for use to let blood. This last piece came from a
barber and assistant surgeon to whom she had once been engaged, and
since she was a naturally skillful and very sensible person she had
learned from her fiance how to open a vein, to put on leeches, and
similar things, and had even been able to shave him herself. But alas,
he had proved an unworthy object of her affections, with whom she might
easily have risked her temporal and heavenly welfare, and thus she had
with saddened but wise resolution broken the engagement. Gifts were
returned on both sides, with the exception of the lancet. This she kept
in pawn as pledge for one florin and eight and forty stuyvers, which
sum she on one occasion had lent him in cash. The unworthy one claimed,
however, that she had no right to it since she had given him the money
on the occasion of a ball, in order to defray joint expenses, and he
added that she had eaten twice as much as himself. Thus it happened
that he kept the florin and forty-eight stuyvers, while she kept the
surgical appliance, with which Zues operated extensively among her
female acquaintance and earned many a penny. But every time she used
the instrument she could not help mentioning the low habits of him who
had once stood so close to her and who had almost become her partner
for life.
All these things were locked up in that trunk, and the trunk again was
kept in a large walnut wardrobe, the key to which Zues had constantly
in her pocket. As to her person, Zues had rather sparse reddish hair as
well as clear pale-blue eyes; these now and then possessed some charm,
and then would throw glances both wise and gentle. She owned an
enormous store of clothes, but of these she only wore the oldest.
However, she was always carefully and cleanly dressed, and just as neat
was the appearance of her room. She was very industrious and helped her
mother in her laundry work, ironing out the finer and more delicate
fabrics and washing the lace caps and the jabots of the wealthier
Seldwyla ladies, thus earning quite a bit. And it may be that it was
due to this sort of activity that Zues always exhibited the peculiar
stern and dignified bent of mind which women show when they are dealing
with laundry work, especially with the work over the tub. For Zues
never unbent at all until the ironing began. Then, it might be, a
species of sedate cheerfulness would seize upon her, in her case,
however, invariably spiced with words of wisdom. This sedate spirit,
too, was recognizable in the chief decorative piece on the premises,
namely, a garland of soap cakes, square, accurately gauged cakes, which
encircled the large living room on shelves. The soap was thus exposed
to the warm air currents in order to harden and become fitter for use.
And it was Zues herself who always cut out the cakes by means of a
brass wire. The wire had fastened to it at either end two small wooden
knobs so one could seize them there for a more commodious cutting of
the soft soap. But a fine pair of compasses used in dividing the soap
in equal sections was also there. This instrument had been made for her
and presented as a valued gift by a journeyman mechanician with whom
she had at one time been as good as engaged. From him, too, came a
gleaming small brass mortar for the pulverization of spices. This
decorated the edge of her cupboard, right between the blue china tea
can and the painted flower vase. For long such a dainty little mortar
had been her special desire, and the attentive mechanician was
therefore extremely welcome when he appeared one afternoon on her
birthday and likewise brought along something to put the mortar to its
legitimate use: a boxful of cinnamon, lump sugar, cloves and pepper.
The mortar itself he hung, before entering at the door, by one of its
handles to his little finger, and with the pestle he started a gay
tinkling, just like a bell, so that out of the adventure grew a jolly
day of festivity. However, shortly afterwards the false scoundrel fled
from the district, and was never heard of more. Besides that, his
master even demanded the return of the mortar, since the fugitive had
taken it from his shop, but had forgotten to pay for it. But Zues did
not deliver up this valuable object. On the contrary, she went to law
for its undisputed possession, and in court she defended her claim
valiantly, basing her rights on the fact that she had washed, starched
and ironed a set of "dickies" for the vanished lover. Those days, the
days when she was forced to defend her rights to the mortar in open
court, were the most conspicuous and painful of her whole life, since
she with her deep feelings felt these things and more particularly her
appearance in court for the sake of such delicate affairs much more
keenly than others of a lighter disposition would have done. All the
same she scored a victory and kept her mortar.
If, however, this neat soap gallery proclaimed her exact working
tactics and her passion for toil, a row of books, arranged in orderly
fashion on the window ledge, did honor to her religious and disciplined
mind. These books were of a miscellaneous description, and she read and
reread them studiously on Sundays. She still possessed all her school
books, never having lost a single one of them. She also still carried
in her head all her little stock of scholastic learning acquired at
school; she knew the whole catechism by heart, as well as the contents
of the grammar, of the arithmetic, of her geography book, of the
collection of biblical stories, and of the various readers and
spellers. Then she also owned some of the pretty tales by Christoph
Schmid and the latter's short novelettes, with handsome verses at the
end, at least a half dozen of sundry treasuries of poetry and
gatherings of popular fairy tales, a number of almanacs full of
specimens of homely wisdom and practical experience, several precise
and remarkable prophecies of tremendous events to come, a guide for
laying the cards, a book of edification for every day of the year
intended for the use of thoughtful virgins, and an old and slightly
damaged copy of Schiller's "The Robbers," which she slowly perused
again and again, as often as she feared she might begin to forget this
stirring drama. And each time she read it, the play appealed to her
sentimental heart anew, so that she made constant references to it and
commented in a highly praiseworthy manner on the various personages
presented in it. And really all there was in these books she also
retained in her memory, and understood exceedingly well how to speak
about them and about many other things as well. When she felt cheerful
and contented and did not have to hasten her labors too greatly, speech
flowed continuously from her lips, and everything under the sun she
knew how to judge and to put into its proper category. Young and old,
high and low, learned and unlearned, they all were compelled to listen
and to receive instruction from her. First, she would hear everybody
out, meanwhile smilingly and sensibly straightening out the case in her
wise little head. And then, having now perceived whither all these
plaints or fears tended, she would solve the more or less knotty
problem at a stroke. Sometimes she would speak so unctuously and
elaborately on matters that irreverent criticasters had compared her to
learned blind persons who have never had sight of the world and whose
sole solace it is to hear themselves talk.