CHAPTER IV
HOW THE EARS OF A SERVANT ARE OPENED TO A GOOD MASTER
Uli's answer was cut off by the cow, which proclaimed her pangs more clearly: now there was work to do, and the conversation could not be continued. All went well, and finally there was a handsome calf, coal-black with a white star, such as neither had ever seen; it was decided to raise it. Uli was twice as active and attentive as usual, and the little calf he treated quite gently, almost tenderly, and regarded it with real affection.
When they were done with the cow and she had had her onion soup, the morning was already dawning, and no time was left to continue their conversation.
The ensuing work-days engrossed them with various labors and the master was frequently absent on business in the neighborhood, so that they had no further talk together. But it seemed to be assumed by both that Uli was to remain, and when the master came home his wife could not praise Uli enough, saying how well he had performed his duty and that she had not had to give him any orders; he had thought of everything himself, and when she had thought of it it had already been done. This naturally pleased the master very much and caused him to speak with increasing kindness to Uli and to show more and more confidence in him. Nothing is more vexatious for a master than to come home in the evening tired or sleepy and find everything at sixes and sevens and his wife full of complaints; to see only half the work done that should have been accomplished, much of it botched and ruined, so that it had better have been let alone; and then into the bargain to hear his wife complain half the night how the servants had been unruly, had given impudent answers, and done just what they pleased, and how she hated to have it so—and if he ever went away again she would run off too. It is terrible for a man who has to go away (and the necessity arises occasionally) if the heavy sighs begin on the homeward road, as soon as he can see his house. What has happened today, he thinks—what shall I see and hear? And so he scarcely wants to go home at all; and whereas he would like to return with love and joy, he has to march with thunder and lightning into his rebellious realm.
In Uli something new had awakened and was filling his whole frame, without his rightly knowing it as yet. As time went on he had to think more and more of the master's words, and more and more he began to believe that the master was right. It was grateful to him to think that he was not created to remain a poor despised lad, but might yet become a man. He saw that wild ways would not bring him to that, and that the more he persisted in them the more ground he would lose. He was strangely affected by what the master had said about habits, and about the good name that one could get in addition to his pay, and so keep on earning more and more the more faithfully he worked; and how one could not look better to his own interest than by being very faithful in the service of his master.
He found himself less and less ready to deny that it was so. More and more examples kept occurring to him of bad servants who had become unhappy and remained poor, and on the other hand he remembered how he had heard others praised by their old employers, who told how they had had a good man or maid, and how these had done well and were now Well off.
Only one thing he could not understand—how he, Uli, should ever come to money, to wealth; that seemed absolutely impossible to him. His pay was thirty crowns in cash, that is, seventy-five francs; also two shirts and a pair of shoes. Now he still had debts of almost four crowns and had already drawn much pay. Heretofore he had never been able to keep within his income; and now he was to pay debts and save, and that seemed impossible to him, for in the natural course of things he was prepared to see his debts increase each year. Of the thirty crowns he needed at least ten for clothes, and even then he could not dress very elegantly; for stockings, shoes, shirts, of which he had only three good and four poor ones, washing, etc., at least eight crowns would go; a packet of tobacco every week (and he generally used more) made two crowns more; that left ten crowns. Now there were fifty Saturday nights, fifty Sunday afternoons, six of which were dance-Sundays at that; nobody knew how many market-days; then there was a review, perhaps even a quartering of soldiers, not counting all the chance occasions for a lark, such as weddings, shooting, bowling, the newly fashionable masquerades, and evening parties, the most dangerous of all evil customs. Independence Day, which degenerates into a perfect orgy of debauchery, was not then in vogue. Now if he figured only two pence a week for brandy or wine, that made four crowns again. If he skipped three dance-Sundays, still he needed at least a crown if he was to pay the fiddler, have a girl, and, as was customary, go home full; and often he needed a thirty-fiver for each of the other three Sundays. Now for the market-days, reviews, and other sprees he had only three crowns left. With this, he thought, it was really humanly impossible to get along; two markets and the review alone would use up more than that; so he had nothing at all for the rest. He figured it over and over, tried to cut down on clothes, on other expenses; but it couldn't be done. He had to be clothed and have washing done; nor could he run barefoot. And so, let him figure as he would, he always came to the sad result that, instead of putting by, he would be falling behind.
One day soon after this calculation master and man were hauling stones for a new stove. On the homeward way they stopped at an inn, for they had a long and hilly road. Since the master was not so niggardly as to order the poorest wine when the servant was with him, and only a halfpence worth of bread for the two, Uli became talkative as they proceeded. "Listen, master," said Uli, "I have been thinking that the pastor who gave you your instruction wasn't altogether a fool; but he didn't know anything about what pay a farmer lad gets and what he needs; I suppose he thought it was about as much as a vicar's pay. But you ought to know better, and that saving and getting rich are no go. I've spent many a day in figuring, till I was like to burst the top of my head off; but I always got the same result: nothing comes of nothing, and zero from zero is zero."
"Why, how did you figure?" asked the master.
Uli went through the whole account again for him, and when he was done he asked the master mockingly, "Now, what do you say to that? Isn't it so?"
The master said, "By your account, to be sure; but there's a very different way of reckoning, my lad. Here now, I'll figure it up for you my way; I wonder what you'll say to it."
"I won't change much what you put down for clothes. It's possible that if you want to keep yourself in good condition, and in particular to have shirts that will save washing, and to look as a self-respecting lad likes to look on Sundays and work-days, you'll need even more at first. But for tobacco you've put down two crowns, and that's too much. A man that has to go into the stable and on the barn-floor ought not to smoke all day, not till after working hours. You don't need to smoke to offset your hunger on my place, and if you could get out of the habit altogether it would help you a lot. When a man doesn't smoke he always increases his wages.
"The other ten crowns that you put down for amusements of all kinds I'll strike out, every one. Yes, open your mouth and look at me like a stork at a new roof. If you want to cure yourself and come to something, you've got to make some decent resolution at the outset—a resolution not to squander a single penny of your pay in any way. If you resolve simply to go gallivanting a little less often, to spend a little less than before, that's just throwing your money to the winds. Once in the tavern, you're no longer master of yourself; the old companionship, the old habit will carry you along, and you'll spend two or three weeks' pay again. Then the after-thirst will come and you'll have to improve other evenings, and more and more you'll lose all belief that you could ever help yourself up, you'll become slacker every day, and you'll despair of yourself more and more. Besides, it's not so dreadful as the face you makeup. See how many people never take a glass the year round, or go into a tavern. It's not only poor day-laborers, who have all they can do to keep off the parish, but some of them are well-to-do, even rich people, who've made it a habit never to spend anything uselessly, and they are not only contented but can much less understand how a reasonable man can enjoy idling than you are willing to understand me when I say a man can live without idling."
"I walked home once with a little man from the Langental market. He was surprised to find me going home so early; usually he had to go home alone, he said. I answered that I hadn't had anything more to do, and that I didn't care to sit in the tavern till evening; that it cost money and time, and a man didn't know when and how he would finally get home. He felt the same way, he said. He had begun with nothing and barely got along. For a long time he had supported father and mother alone, but now he had his home and farm paid for and every year two cows to sell, and not one of them under six hundred pounds. But he had never wasted a cent from the very beginning. Only once, he remembered, in Burgdorf he had bought a roll for a halfpenny without needing to—he could have stood it till he got home, and had a cheaper meal there. Well, I told him I couldn't say as much; many a penny I had wasted. But one could overdo it, too, for a man had to live. 'Yes, to be sure,' said he. 'I live too, and am happy. A farthing saved gives me more satisfaction than another man gets from spending a crown. If I hadn't begun that way I'd never have come to anything. A poor lad doesn't know enough to stop at the right time when once he begins; when he's thrown away one penny it pulls a dozen along after it. But you mustn't think I'm a miserable miser. Many a man has gone away empty-handed from the big farm-houses and has got what he needed from me. I didn't forget who has blessed my work and will soon demand an account from me.' At this I looked the little man up and down with great respect; nobody could have told what was in him from his looks. Before we separated I wanted to buy him a bottle of wine for his good advice. But he refused; he didn't need anything, and whether he squandered my money or his would come to the same thing on that future account. Since then I've never seen him; probably he's gone to his account by now, and if nobody had a worse one than he many a man would be better off.
"So this is my opinion: every single farthing of your pay that you spend for such useless things is ill spent. Stay at home, and you'll save not merely ten crowns, but a lot besides. All the servants complain how many shoes and clothes they need, when they have to be out in wind and weather; but do you know how most of their clothes are spoiled? By running around at night in all kinds of weather, through thick and thin, and with all that goes on then. If you wear your clothes twenty-four hours, you evidently use 'em up more than if it was only fourteen. You don't go calling in wooden shoes, and do you burst out more shoe-nails by day, or by night when you can't see the stones, the holes, or the ditches? And tell me, how do your Sunday clothes look after you've stumbled around in them drunk, pulled each other about, and rolled in the mud? How many a Sunday jacket has been torn to pieces, the trousers ruined, the hat lost!
"Many a man would surely need less for his clothes if he stayed at home; I say nothing about the girls. And think, Uli, if you need ten crowns now for such useless habits, in ten years you'll need twenty and in twenty forty, if you have them; for a habit like that doesn't stand still it grows. And doesn't that lead straight as a string to your old ways?
"Finally, Uli, you get not only thirty crowns, but also many a penny in the way of tips when a cow or a horse is sold, and the like. Use those when you must have an outing and can't give up the tavern. Out of that money you can drink a glass or two at a review, if you like, or put it by against your going into garrison; there'll be plenty for that. You've drawn a lot of your pay; but if you'll believe me and follow my advice you can get out of debt this year; and next year you can start laying by. And if you believe me, I don't say that I can pay you only thirty crowns. When a servant attends to his business and doesn't have his mind set simply on foolishness; when I can intrust something to him and things go the same whether I'm with him or not, so that I don't have to come home every time in anxiety lest something has gone wrong—then I won't haggle over a crown or two. Think of that, Uli: the better the habits, the better the name, the better the pay."
At these words Uli's mouth opened and his nose lifted, and at last he said that that would be fine, but it probably would never happen; he didn't think he could stand it.
"Well, try it a month and see how it goes; and don't think about gadding, drinking, and the tavern, and you can do it all right."