"Besides," said the quaint old man, "this is a whim of mine, if you like that better. You breed particular kinds of dogs, cattle and horses; why shouldn't I breed a particular class of human beings?"
He died suddenly, and his relations inherited his property, ran through it in a few years, and the school was forgotten. But it had produced a certain number of men of great economic, intellectual and moral value, though none of these ever occupied prominent positions.
The nobleman's spirit would have rejoiced at his pupils' progress, for he had not brought them up to be geniuses, but to be useful, average citizens such as are always needed in the community. One of these pupils was Kazimierz Gosławski. He, too, had learnt various trades, but he took a special liking to two of them—those of blacksmith and locksmith. He could also draw a plan of an engine or a building, make mathematical calculations, prepare a wooden model of a foundry, and at a pinch make his own clothes and boots. The longer Gosławski lived, the more he appreciated his master's methods, and realized the practical importance of the anecdotes. He held his benefactor's memory sacred, and he and his wife and little daughter prayed for his soul every day. Gosławski had been working in the mechanical part of Adler's factory for seven years, and was the soul of the workshop. His earnings amounted to two and sometimes even to three roubles a day. There was a certain head-mechanic knocking about who drew a salary of fifteen hundred roubles a year, but he occupied himself more with factory scandals than with his own work.
In order to uphold his authority, this mechanic gave orders and explanations, but he did it in such a way that no one either understood them or attempted to carry them out; and this was a blessing for the factory, for had his mechanical ideas been realized in iron, steel and wood, the greater part of the engines would have had to go into the melting-pot.
It was only after Gosławski had found out the damage done to an engine, and put his hand to repairing it, that things went right again. More than once this simple locksmith had replaced parts of engines; unconsciously he had sometimes made inventions without anyone knowing about it. If it had been known, the invention would have been put down to the genius of the head-mechanic, who always boasted of his achievements, and regretted that in this unintelligent Poland one had no chances of becoming director of several factories, no matter of what kind.
Adler had too keen an eye not to see Gosławski's value and the incompetence of his head-mechanic. But Gosławski was made of too dangerous a material to be given a place as independent manager, and the head-mechanic was a good scandal-monger; so he was kept in the foreground, and the other did the work. In this way everybody was satisfied, and the world at large never suspected that the well-known factory was really run by the brains of a "stupid Polish workman."
Gosławski was a man of medium height, with the coarse hands and bow-legs of a workman. When he was bending over his vice he was indistinguishable from the others; but when he looked up from under his mop of dark hair, his thin, pale face showed that he was an intellectually developed human being with a nervous disposition. Yet his calmness and the look in his thoughtful grey eyes proved that reason prevailed over his temperament.
He talked neither too much nor too little, and never too loudly. Sometimes he got animated, but never let himself be carried away by excitement; and he knew how to listen, looking attentively and intelligently all the while into the speaker's eyes. Only to factory scandals he listened with half an ear and without interrupting his work. "What is the good of these things?" he used to say. But he would interrupt his most important work to listen to explanations coming within the range of his profession. He kept himself a little aloof from his fellow-workmen, though he was always friendly and ready to give advice, or even help, in small jobs. Yet he would never ask anybody's help for himself, for he had the same respect for a man's knowledge or time that he had for his money. The aim of his life was to establish a smith's workshop of his own. For this reason he hoarded up his earnings; he did not trust his money to the bank, and did not like to lend it to his fellow-workmen: rather would he give away a rouble or two now and then. For he was not mean: both he and his wife had plenty of clothes, plain but good, and on Sundays he would not begrudge himself a glass of beer or even a glass of wine. By means of this reasonable economy he had saved about eighteen hundred roubles, and was now looking about for the loan of a small building on some landowner's estate, in which he could set up his workshop. In exchange he would give preference to the landowner's orders. These arrangements are often made between a landowner and his smith, and Gosławski had a place of this kind in view for Michaelmas.
His earnings in the mill were rather uncertain. When a new line was tried in the manufacture of cotton goods (and in this Gosławski was unequalled), he was very well paid by the piece; but when the experiment had turned out a success, and he had taught others how to do the work, his pay was reduced by half, or even three-quarters; sometimes he was only paid the tenth part. To keep the level of his wages higher, he would often work overtime, come early and stay late.
When the workmen complained that the boss was cheating them, Gosławski replied that they could not wonder, for they were cheating him in return. But sometimes he would lose patience, and mutter between his teeth: