Seldwyla Folks: Three Singular Tales

by Gottfried Keller

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.'"

Of all this the combmakers really did not want to hear just then, but on the contrary insisted that Zues should select one of them and tell him to remain in Seldwyla, and each one of them in saying so only thought of himself. She, however, was careful to avoid a premature choice. On the contrary, she told them bluntly that they must obey her on pain of forfeiting her friendship forever. At once Jobst, the oldest of the three, skipped off, right into the house of their ex-master, and to perceive that and follow him in haste, was the work of an instant, since they were afraid that he might be planning something against them on the sly, and thus the trio acted all day long, whisking about like falling stars, hither and thither. They hated each other like three spiders in one web. Half the town witnessed this queer spectacle, observing the three strangely excited combmakers, they who until that day had always been so orderly and quiet. The ancient people of the town could not but feel that something evil, something tragic was underway, and they would nod and whisper to one another of their fears. Towards nightfall, however, the combmakers became tired and spent, without having reached any definite conclusion, and in that mood they retired and stretched out their limbs in the old bed, with chattering teeth and half-sick with impotent rage. One by one they crept beneath the covering, and there they lay, as though felled by the hand of death itself, with thoughts in turmoil and confusion, until at last sleep came like balm for their uproarious minds.

Jobst was first to waken, at early dawn, and he saw that spring was weaving its garlands and that the great orb was rising in the east, in a mass of cloudlets of dainty hue. The first rays of the sun were already penetrating the dusky chamber wherein he had been sleeping for the past six years. And while the room assuredly looked bare and unattractive enough, it seemed nevertheless a paradise to him, a paradise from which he was about to be driven thus unjustly and unfairly, it appeared to him. He let his eyes wander all over the walls, and counted on them the traces left by all the preceding journeymen that had been harbored under that roof. Here there was a dark stain from the one who was in the habit of rubbing against the wall his greasy pate; there another one had driven in a nail, on which he used to hang his long pipe, and, sure enough, a bit of scarlet tape still clung to the nail. How good and harmless had they all been, all those that had come and gone, while these fellows now, spread out their whole length next to him in bed, would not go. Next he fastened his glance upon the objects nearer his field of vision, those objects which he had noticed thousands of times before, on all those occasions when he had lain in bed in a contemplative mood, mornings, nights, or daytime, and when he had enjoyed in his own peculiar way the bliss of existence, free of cost and with a serene mind. There was, for example, a spot in the ceiling where the wet had damaged it. This spot had often set his imagination at work. It looked like the map of a whole country, with lakes and rivers and cities, and a group of grains of sand represented an isle of the blessed. Farther down a long bristle from the painter's brush attracted Jobst's wandering attention; for this bristle had been held back by the blue paint and was embedded in it. This phenomenon interested Jobst greatly, for it was his own handiwork. Last autumn he had accidentally discovered a small remnant of the azure paint, and to utilize it had proceeded to spread it over that portion of the ceiling nearest to him. But just beyond the bristle there was a very slight protuberance, almost like a chain of mountains, and this threw its shadow across the bristle over against the isle of the blessed. About this rise in the scenery he had been brooding and speculating the whole of the past winter, because it seemed to him that it had not been there formerly.