instruction before she was confirmed by the pastor, she had retained
the habit of composing, from time to time, essays and exercises, and
thus it was that she would, on quiet Sundays, laboriously write out the
most marvelous compositions. One of her favorite methods in doing this
was to seize upon some melodious title that she had heard of or read in
the course of the week, and taking this, so to speak, as her text,
would proceed to pile up from it the most wonderful conclusions and
deductions, not infrequently culminating in very odd or nonsensical
dicta. Page on page of this balderdash she would perpetrate, just as it
issued from the convolutions of her silly brain. Such themes, for
example, as "The Various Beneficent Uses of a Sickbed," "About Death,"
"About the Wholesomeness of Resignation," "About the Giant Size
of the World," "About the Secrets of Life Eternal," "About Residence
in the Country," "About Nature," "About Dreams," "About Love,"
"About Redemption and Christ," "Three Points in the Theory of
Self-Justification," "Thoughts about Immortality," she often solved in
her own easy way. Then she would read aloud to her friends and admirers
these productions, and it was a supreme proof of her special regard and
affection for her to present one or the other of them to a close
friend. Such gifts, she insisted on, had to be placed within the pages
of a Bible, that is, if the recipient happened to have one.
This leaning of Zues' nature towards religious ecstasy and
contemplation had once gained her the profound and respectful affection
of a young bookbinder, a man who read every book he bound and who was,
besides, both ambitious and enthusiastic. Whenever he brought his
bundle of soiled linen to Zues' mother, he deemed himself to be in
paradise, for he swallowed greedily all of the maiden's thoughts, and
her boldest figures of speech now and then, he shyly said, would remind
him of things he had dared to think himself, but which he had never had
the skill and the courage to frame into words. Bashfully and humbly he
approached this talented virgin, who was by turns severe and eloquent,
and she deigned to suffer this modest intercourse and held him in
leading-strings for a whole year, not, however, without making the
hopelessness of his suit plain to him, gently but determinedly. For
inasmuch as he was nine years her junior, poor as a church mouse and
awkward in gaining a living, men of his calling not being in clover in
Seldwyla anyhow, since people there do not read much and, consequently,
have few books to bind, she never for a moment hid from herself the
impossibility of a union. She merely found it pleasant to develop his
mind and character and to furnish her own as a model to strive after.
Her own powers of resignation were all the time for him to take pattern
by, and so she embalmed his aspirations in an iridescent cloud of
phrases. And he on his part would listen modestly, and once or twice
find heart to risk a beautiful sentence himself. This she invariably
answered by instantly killing his observation with a finer one. That
year, when she calmly received the adoration of this youth, was
reckoned by her the most ethereal and noblest of her existence, since
it was not disturbed by a single breath from the lower and material
spheres, and the young man during it bound anew all her books, and with
infinite pains wrought night after night toward the ultimate completion
of an artful and precious monument of his adoration for her. This was,
to be plain, a huge Chinese temple of pasteboard, containing
innumerable tiny compartments and secret receptacles, and which might
be entirely taken apart and reconstructed on following carefully
previous instructions. This miracle was pasted all over with the finest
samples of varicolored and glazed paper, and everywhere ornamented with
gilt borders. Minute mirrors inside colonnaded halls of state reflected
the gay colors, and by removing one section of the structure or opening
another one there were more mirrors and hidden pictures, nosegays of
paper or loving couples. The curving or shelving roofs were everywhere
hung with little bells. Even a small stand for a lady's watch was
there, with hooks to hang it up on and with other hooks to trail a
slender meandering chain through. Only up to now no watchmaker had yet
offered a pretty watch or a chain to decorate this altar with. An
enormous deal of trouble and skill had been wasted on this pasteboard
temple, and its ground plan was just as correct as the work itself. And
when this monument of a year passed jointly so pleasantly had been duly
accepted, Zues Buenzlin encouraged the good bookbinder, doing violence
to her own well-regulated heart, to tear himself away from the town and
to set once more his staff for a wandering life. She pointed out with
perfect justice that the whole world stood open to him, and she assured
him that now, having schooled and ennobled his heart by improving his
acquaintance with herself, happiness elsewhere would certainly be in
store for him. She would never forget him and retire into solitude. And
indeed, the young fellow was so much affected by these moral
exhortations that he shed a few melancholy tears in passing the town
gate on his way. His masterpiece, however, since stood on top of Zues'
old-fashioned clothes press, daintily covered by a veil of green gauze,
thus defying dust and profane gaze. She considered it so much of a
sacred relic that she kept it intact and without even placing anything
whatever into those many tiny recesses of the temple. In her memory he
continued to live as "Emmanuel," although his real name had been Veit.
And she told everyone with whom she discussed the case that Emmanuel
alone had completely understood her inner self. This she said now that
he was gone, but while he had been with her in the flesh she had been
of different opinion, for she had rarely admitted to him that he was
right, deeming it wiser to thus urge him on to higher and ever higher
endeavor in his search of a perfect agreement of mind with his idol.
Indeed, she had more than once intimated to him, at times when he hoped
he had at last fully entered the arcana of her soul, that he was
farther and farther from it.
But he, too, Veit-Emmanuel, played her a little trick. He had placed in
a false bottom, in one of the diminutive apartments of his pasteboard
fairy palace, the most touching of all love letters, bedewed with his
tears, wherein he confessed his bitter grief at parting from her, his
love, his worship and his sublime steadfastness, and in such passionate
and sincere terms had he done this as only genuine feeling can find,
even if it has lost itself in a cul-de-sac. Such touching, such moving
things he had never said to her, simply because she never would give
him the chance, having always interrupted him when he was on the point
of doing so. But as she had not the slightest suspicion that any such
document had been put away within the temple, she never found the
missive and thus fate for once dealt justly and did not let a false
beauty see that which she was not worthy of. And it was also a symbol
that she it was who had not fathomed the somewhat silly, but devoted
and sincere heart of the youth.
For a long while she had been praising the doings of the three
combmakers, and had called them three decent and sensible men; for she
had closely observed them. When, therefore, Dietrich, the Suabian,
began to linger longer and longer in her dwelling when bringing or
fetching his shirt, and to pay court to her, she treated him in a
friendly manner and kept him near her for hours by means of her lofty
conversation. And Dietrich talked back, of course, to please her, just
as much as he could; and she was one of the kind that could stand more
than a fair measure of laudation. Indeed, one might truthfully say that
she liked it all the more the more spiced and peppered it was. When
praising her wisdom and kindness, she kept still as a mouse, until
there was no more of it, whereupon she would with heightened color pick
up the thread where it had been dropped, and would touch up the
painting in those spots where it seemed to require a trifle of
additional color. And Dietrich had not been going back and forth in
her house for any great length of time when she showed him that
mortgage of hers, and he thereupon began to exude a quiet, sedate
species of self-satisfaction, and began to behave toward his rivals
with such stealth as though he had invented the perpetuum mobile. Jobst
and Fridolin, however, soon unearthed his secret, and they were amazed
at the depth of his dissimulation and at his cleverness. Jobst above
all clutched his hair and tore out a good handful of it; for had he
himself not been going to the same house for a long while, and had it
ever occurred to him to look for anything there but his clean linen?
Rather, he had hitherto almost hated the washerwomen because he had
been forced to dig up a few stuyvers every week to pay them. Never had
he thought of marriage, because he was unable to conceive of a wife
under any other aspect than that of a being that wanted something out
of him which he did not deem her due, and to expect something from such
a feminine creature that might be of advantage to him had never entered
his thoughts, since he had confidence only in himself, and his
calculations had so far never gone beyond the narrowest horizon, that
of his secret. But now reflecting deep and serious he reached the
determination to outdo this sly little Suabian, for if the latter
should really succeed in getting hold of Dame Zues' seven hundred
florins, he might become a keen competitor. The seven hundred florins,
too, suddenly shone and glittered very differently, in the eyes both of
the Saxon and of the Bavarian. Thus it was that Dietrich, the man of
invention, had discovered a land which soon became the joint property
of the three, and thus shared the hard lot of all discoverers, for the
two others at once got on the same track and likewise became steady
callers on Zues Buenzlin. She therefore saw herself surrounded by a
whole court of decent and respectable combmakers. That she relished
greatly; never before had she had a number of admirers at one time. It
became a novel entertainment for her shrewd mind to handle these three
with the greatest impartiality and skill, to keep them at all times
within bounds and cool reason, and to thus influence them by frequent
speeches in favor of the beauties of resignation and unselfishness
until Heaven itself should by some act of intervention decide matters
irrevocably.
As each of the three had confided to her his secret and his plans, she
immediately made up her mind to render happy that one who really would
attain his goal and become owner of the business. And in thus deciding
in her own heart how she should proceed, she from that hour on
deliberately excluded the Suabian, since he could not succeed except
through and by her money. But while thus actually discarding the
Suabian as a possible candidate for her hand, she reflected that, after
all, he was the youngest, handsomest and most amiable of the trio, and
thus she would spare for him many a token of regard and confidence, and
lull him into the belief that his chances were the best. But while so
doing, she knew how to arouse the jealousy of the other two, and thus
spur them on to greater zeal. And so it came to pass that Dietrich,
this poor Columbus who had first sighted and nearly taken possession of
the pretty land, became nothing but a mere pawn in her game, nothing
but the poor fool who unconsciously assisted in the angling for the
real fish. Meanwhile all three of them assiduously wooed and courted
the coy maiden, running a close race in the difficult art of showing
all the time devotion, modesty and sense, while being kept by the
bridle. She on her part was in her element, for she forever told them
to be unselfish and to practice resignation. When the whole four now
and then happened to be together, they made the impression of a
singular conventicle where the queerest remarks were being expressed.
And despite of all their timidity and humility it would happen once in
a while that one of the three, suddenly dropping his hosannahs in
praise of the rare gifts and virtues of the maiden, would plunge into a
measure of self-laudation. At such moments it was edifying and truly
touching to see Zues gently interrupt the rash one and chide him for
his breach of good manners. She would then shame him by forcing him to
listen to a homily on his rivals.
However, this was really a hard sort of life for the poor combmakers to
lead. No matter how much ordinarily they had themselves under control,
now that a woman had entered as a factor into their game, there would
occur wholly novel spurts of jealousy, of fear, of misgiving, and of
hope. What with a fury of work and increased economy, they almost
killed themselves and certainly lost flesh. They became melancholy, and
while before people--and especially before Zues--they endeavored hard
to maintain the appearance of the utmost harmony, they scarcely spoke a
word to each other when alone together at work or in their common
sleeping chamber, lay down sighing in their joint bed, and dreamed of
murder, albeit still resting quietly and immovably one next the other
as so many sticks. One and the same dream hovered nightly over the
trio, until really once it came to one of the sleepers, so that Jobst
in his place by the wall turned over violently and kicked Dietrich.
Dietrich avoided the kick and gave Jobst a hard push, and now there was
among the three sleepy combmakers an outbreak of elemental wrath. The
most tremendous row ensued in the bed, and for fully three minutes they
treated each other to fearful lunges, kicks and pushes, so that all the
six legs formed an inextricable tangle, until with a thundering crash
they rolled out of bed and began to howl like savage beasts. Becoming
fully awake they at first thought the devil were after them or else
thieves had entered their room. Screaming they rose quickly. Jobst took
his stand upon his tile; Fridolin planted himself firmly upon his own,
and Dietrich did the like upon that tile beneath which his still rather
slender savings reposed. And thus standing in a triangle, they worked
their arms like flails and shouted their loudest: "Get out; get out!"
until the master came rushing up from below and after a while quieted
the three frenzied fellows. Trembling then with fear, shame and anger,
they crept back into bed, and then, wide-awake, lay there mute until
dawn came and forced them to rise.
However, the nocturnal spook had only been the prelude to something
worse. For at breakfast the master let them know that for the time
being he had no longer need of three journeymen, and that two of them
would have to pack up their bundle. It appeared that they had defeated
their own object by hurrying and hastening work, so that now there were
more wares than the boss was able to dispose of, while on the other
hand, he, the master, himself had taken advantage of the extreme mood
for work his men had shown for months to lead on his part an opulent
and disorderly life, spending nearly all his extra gains in riotous
quips. Indeed, when the details of his doings became public it turned
out that he had run into such an amount of debt that the load of it
came well-nigh smothering him. Thus it came about that he, looking over
his own situation, was unable to employ or support his three workmen,
no matter how abstemious they were and how intent on his further
profit. For consolation he told them that he was equally fond of all
three of them and loath to tell either to go, wherefore he had made up
his mind to leave it wholly to them which of the three should leave and
which should stay. All they had to do, he remarked smilingly, was to
agree among themselves upon that point.
But they were unable to come to a decision as to this. Rather they
stood there pale as ghosts, and simpered timidly at each other. Then
they became tremendously excited, since they clearly perceived that the
most momentous hour of their existence was approaching. For they judged
from the words of the master that he would not be able to continue the
business much longer, and that, therefore, it would soon become an
object of sale. The goal, then, each of them had striven for with such
infinite patience and cunning seemed in sight, and to their heated
fancy was already glittering and shining like a new Jerusalem. And now
came this awful decree, and two of them would have to turn their backs
upon the heavenly prospect. It was almost more than they could bear.
After a very brief consultation and reflection all three of them went
to see the master, and declared with tearful voices that rather than
leave him they would stay on, even though they would have to work
gratis. But then the master declared jovially that even in that case he
had no further use for all the three. Two of them, he again assured
them, would have to quit the house. They fell at his feet; they wrung
their hands; they asked and implored him to let them stay on: only for
another three months, for one month, for a fortnight. The master,
however, after at first enjoying the humor of the situation, at last
lost all patience. Besides, he was perfectly aware what their motive in
all this pretended loyalty for him was, and that soured his temper.
Suddenly an idea occurred to him, and he did not hesitate to make them
a proposition.
"Why," he smiled, "if you cannot agree among yourselves at all as to
who is to remain and who to go, I will tell you how we will decide this
matter. But that is absolutely the last proposal I shall make to you.
To-morrow being Sunday, I shall pay your wages; you pack up your
belongings, get ready to go forth and take your staffs. Then you will
in all good faith and perfect harmony leave jointly, going out by
whichever gate you may agree upon, and march on the highroad for
another half-hour, no more, no less, and then stop. Then you will rest
yourselves a trifle, and if you care to do so, you may even drink a
shoppen or two. Having done so, you will all three of you turn once
more and walk back to town, and whoever will then first ask me for
work, him I will keep, but the other two must wander forth for good and
all, wherever they might choose to go."
Hearing this cruel decision, they three fell once more at his feet and
begged him most pitifully to have mercy on them and to desist from his
plan. But the master, who by this time began to anticipate some rare
fun in his wicked soul, was obstinate and would not listen to them,
hardening himself. Suddenly the Suabian sprang up and ran out of the
house like a man demented, across the street to Zues Buenzlin. Scarcely
had Jobst and the Bavarian observed that, when they ceased to lament
themselves and followed the youngest. Within a very brief space the
three of them were seated in the dwelling of the frightened maiden.
Zues felt rather abashed and undecided by reason of the adventure
taking such an unexpected turn. But she calmed herself, and viewing the
matter from her own particular angle, she resolved to make her plans
subservient to the master's odd conceit. In fact, she regarded this new
aspect of affairs as a special dispensation of Providence. Touched and
devout she fetched out one of her volumes, then with her needle at
random pricked among the leaves, and when she opened the book at the
spot, she found a passage that spoke of the persistent following of the
righteous path. Next she made the three guests turn up passages
blindfolded, and all that was found treated of walking along the narrow
way, of advancing without looking backwards, in short, of nothing but
running and racing. Thus, then, she decided, Heaven itself had
prescribed the projected race for to-morrow. But since she was afraid
that Dietrich, as being the youngest and the ablest in jumping,
walking, and running, and thus most likely to win the palm if left
without supervision, she made up her mind to go herself along with the
three lovers, and to watch for an opportunity for bending or
influencing possibly the outcome of this undertaking in accordance with
her own secret desires. For she wished, as we must recall, one of the
older men to be the victor, she did not care which of the two.
In furtherance of this plan she insisted that the three be quiet for a
spell and cease slandering and berating each other, but rather summon
themselves to acquiescence in God's will. She put on her judicial air
and said:
"Know, my friends, that nothing happens here below without the
direction and sometimes direct interference of Providence, and no
matter if the plan of your master be unusual and singular, we must look
upon it as ordered by higher powers than he, although it may be that he
has not even an inkling of this. He is the dumb and unconscious
instrument in the hands of the Ruler. Our peaceable and harmonious
intercourse here has been too beautiful altogether to have been
prolonged much farther. For, behold, all the good things in life are
but transitory and pass away, and nothing is lasting but evil things,
the loneliness of the soul and the persistence of sin, whereupon we
feel impelled to consider all this and to try and grasp their meaning
in this life and in the life to come. Hence, too, let us rather
separate before the wicked demon of discord raises its head amongst us,
and let us bid each other farewell, just as do the soft zephyrs of
springtime when they swiftly move along high in the sky, and let us do
this before the rough storms of autumn overtake us. I myself will
accompany you on the first stage of your hard road, and will be the
eyewitness of your trial race, so that you will start on it with a good
courage and so that you know behind you a gentle propelling power,
while victory winks from afar. But just as the victor will forbear to
show a spirit of undue pride, those who have been defeated will not
permit themselves to become despondent nor to load their souls with
grief or wrath because of their lack of success in the venture. They
will depart feeling affection for him who bears the palm, and will
enshrine him and us in their inmost heart. They will fare forth into
the wide world with joyous disposition. They must reflect on the fact
that men have built cities galore that outshine in their splendors and
beauties Seldwyla by far. There is, for instance, a huge and memorable
city wherein dwells the Father of all Christendom. And Paris, too, is
quite a mighty town, where may be found innumerable souls and many fine
palaces. And in Constantinople there rules the Sultan, of Turkish faith
is he, and there is Lisbon, once destroyed by an earthquake, but since
reconstructed finer than ever. Again we have Vienna, the capital of
Austria and called the gay imperial city, and London is the wealthiest
town of all, situated in Engelland, along a river the name of which is
the Thames. Two millions of human beings, they say, have their
habitation there. St. Petersburg, on the other hand, is the capital and
imperial city of Russia, whereas Naples is the capital of the kingdom
of the same name, near which is the Vesuvius, a high mountain forever
breathing fire and smoke. On that mountain, according to the version of
a credible witness, a lost soul once upon a time appeared to a ship's
captain, as I have read in a curious book of travel, which soul
belonged to John Smidt, who one hundred and fifty years ago was a
godless man, and who now commissioned the said captain to visit his
descendants in Engelland, so he might be redeemed. For look you, the
entire mountain is the abode of the damned, as may also be read in the
tract of the learned Peter Hasler where he discusses the probable
entrance to hell. Many other cities there are indeed, whereof I will
still mention Milan, and Venice, built wholly upon water, and Lyons,
and Marseilles, and Strasbourg, and Cologne, and Amsterdam. Of Paris I
have already spoken, but there is also Nuremberg, and Augsburg, and
Frankfort, and Basle, and Berne, and Geneva, all of them handsome
towns, and pretty Zurich, and besides all these still many more which I
have neither leisure nor inclination to enumerate here. For everything
has its limits, excepting the inventive genius of man, who goes
everywhere and undertakes anything which seems to him useful. And if
men are just everything prospereth with them; but if they are unjust
they will perish like the grass of the fields and vanish like smoke.
Many are called, but few are chosen. For all these reasons and because
of others to which our duty and the virtue of a clear conscience oblige
us, we will now submit ourselves to the voice of fate. Go forth,
therefore, and prepare for the time of trial, and for the period of
wandering, but do so as just and gentle beings, who bear their worth
within themselves, no matter whither they may go, and whose staff will
everywhere take root, who, no matter what their calling may be and no
matter what business they may seize upon, are always in the right in
saying to themselves; 'I have chosen the better part.'"