The German Classics of The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Vol. VIII by Various

V >> Various >> The German Classics of The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Vol. VIII

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"Listen, Uli," the master began, "things can't go on this way; you're
getting too wild to suit me. You go on night revels and sprees too
often. I won't trust my horses and cows to a man whose head is full of
brandy or wine, and I can't send him into the stable with a lantern,
especially when he smokes as you do. I've seen too many houses burned up
by such carelessness. I don't know what you're thinking of and what you
think is going to come of all this."

He hadn't burned up anything yet, Uli answered; he had always done his
work, no one had needed to do it for him, and nobody had paid for what
he drank; it was nobody's business what he spent on drink, it was his
own money.

"But it's my servant," answered the master, "that's drinking up his
money. When you carry on it comes back on me, and the people say that
you're the Bottom-Farmer's man and that they can't imagine what he's
thinking of to let you carry on so and to have such a servant as you.
You haven't burned up any house yet, but think, Uli, wouldn't once be
too much, and would you ever have a quiet moment again if you thought
you had burned up my house, and if we and the children couldn't get out
and were burned to death? And how about your work? I'd rather have you
lie abed all day long. Why, you fall asleep under the cows you're
milking, and you don't see, hear, or smell anything, and stumble around
the house as if your liver was out of whack. It's terrible to watch
you."

He wouldn't take this, said Uli, and if his work wasn't good enough for
him he'd leave. But it was always so nowadays, you couldn't satisfy a
master any more, even if working all the time; one was worse than the
other. As for pay, they wanted to give less and less, and the food got
worse every day. After awhile one would have to gather fleas, beetles,
and grasshoppers if one wanted to have meat and fat with his vegetables.

"Listen, Uli," said the master, "you're in a bad temper still, and I
oughtn't to have said anything to you. But I'm sorry for you, for you've
been a fine lad and used to be able to work. For awhile I thought you'd
turn out well, and I was glad. But since you began this idling and
night-running, you've become a different fellow. You don't care about
anything any more; you're a sorehead, and when I say the least word to
you either sauce me or sulk for a week. Go now, think it over, and if
you're not willing to change, then in God's name leave me; I don't want
you any longer. Give me your answer in a week."

He'd soon have his mind made up, it wouldn't take a week, Uli growled as
he went out; but the master pretended not to hear.

When the master came out, his wife asked him as usual, "What did you say
to him, and what did he say?"

"I couldn't do anything with him," answered the master. "Uli is still in
a bad temper, for he hasn't slept off his spree yet; it would have been
better to talk to him tomorrow or in the evening, after the natural
seediness of 'the day after' had softened him up a little. Now I've
given him time to think it over, and shall wait and see what comes of
it."

Uli went out in bitter anger, as if the greatest injustice had been done
him. He flung the tools around as though everything was to go to smash
in the one day, and he bawled at the cattle until the master ached in
every bone. But the latter forced himself to be calm, merely saying
once, "Easy, easy!" With the other servants Uli had no dealings, but
scowled at them too. As the master had not reprimanded him before the
others, he did not care to inform them of his disgrace, and because he
did not make common cause with them he considered that they were on the
master's side and his enemies--a state of mind quite in accord with that
deeply truthful saying: "He that is not for me is against me." So there
was no one to put notions into his head, and he had no opportunity to
swear that the devil or what-not might take him if he stayed here an
hour after his time was up.

Little by little the wine and other spirits departed from him, and more
and more sluggish grew his limbs; the previous tension yielded to an
intolerable exhaustion, which affected not only body but mind. And as
every act of the exhausted body is hard and painful to perform, so every
past and potential act seems to the exhausted spirit, which would fain
weep over what it laughed at before; what formerly caused pleasure and
joy now brings only grief and sorrow; the things but yesterday eagerly
grasped now bring a craze that would tear the hair from its head, aye,
even the whole head from its body. When this mood envelops the soul it
is irresistible, and over all a man's thought and ideas it casts its
sickly gleam.

While Uli, as long as the effect of the wine was upon him, had been
angry with the master for his rebuke, now that its force was spent he
became angry at himself for his debauch. He recalled the twenty-three
farthings which he had gone through in one evening, and which would now
take almost a fortnight's work to earn again. He was angry at the work
which he would have to do for this purpose, at the wine which he had
drunk, at the tavern-keeper who had furnished it, and so on. He lost all
sense, forgot everything, did everything wrong. He was uncomfortable,
discontented with himself, hence also with all others, with the whole
world; he had good words for none, and nothing suited him. He imagined
that the mistress was intentionally cooking poor meals and preparing
everything he didn't like; that the master was tormenting him with
needless work; that the horses were all bad-tempered and that the cows
purposely did everything they could to bother him--the stupidest cows
that ever grazed on God's earth.

The farmer and his wife let the lad alone; it seemed as if they paid no
heed to him. But it was not so. The mistress had once or twice remarked
to her husband how wildly Uli was carrying on--she had never known him
to be in such a state before. Had her husband spoken too sharply to him?
But the farmer did not think so; Uli wasn't angry at him alone but at
the whole world, he said--probably chiefly angry at himself and was
letting it out on others.

On Sunday he would talk with him again. Things couldn't go on this way
any longer; Uli would have to mend his ways or go. But he mustn't be too
harsh, said the mistress. After all, Uli wasn't the worst in the world;
they knew what he was, but they didn't know what they might get.

CHAPTER II

A QUIET SUNDAY IN A FINE FARMHOUSE

[This describes in detail the Sunday activities on the
farm--churchgoing, visits from relatives, an afternoon walk, inspection
of the crops and the cattle, a coffee party.]

CHAPTER III

A NOCTURNAL ADMONITION

After they had hung up the lantern out in the stable and bedded the
horses, the master himself made a bed for the cow, which tramped
restlessly back and forth and could not lie down for uneasiness, and
then remarked that it might be an hour or two yet, and they would go out
and sit on the bench and smoke a pipe; the cow would give warning when
the time came.

It was a mild night, half spring, half summer. Few stars twinkled in the
blue ocean above; a ringing shout, a distant wagon broke in at times
upon the stillness of the night.

"Have you made up your mind now, Uli?" asked the master, when they were
sitting on the bench before the stable.

Uli answered that he was still rather undecided, but his tone was no
longer angry. He wouldn't take everything, but he shouldn't mind
staying.

He had already adopted the generally accepted maxim, never to show
eagerness lest the opponent draw an advantage from it. Hence the
remarkable calm and cold-bloodedness in farmers, which diplomats should
admire. But in its full extent and application it is a vicious policy,
which causes unspeakable evil, estranges countless people, makes them
appear enemies to one another, generates coldness where generous zeal
should be kindled, and results in an indifference which causes an
involuntary goose-flesh to scamper up the back of every friend of
goodness.

The master did not take the reply amiss, but said that he felt the same
way. He had nothing against Uli; but things would have to change. He
wanted to know who was in the wrong, and whether he couldn't say a word
in his own house any more without getting cross words all the week and
seeing a face sour enough to poison all America.

He couldn't help it, said Uli. To look cross was his style of
friendliness, and if his face hadn't looked the same as usual it wasn't
on his master's account, for he had no special complaint against him or
anybody. But he was only a poor servant after all, and had no right to a
home or any fun; he was on earth only to be unhappy, and when ever he
tried to forget his misery and have a good time everybody got after him
and tried to put him down. Whoever could shove him into misfortune, did
so. Who could be expected to look sweet all the time?

He ought to see that he didn't want to shove him into misfortune--quite
the contrary, said the master. If any one was doing that it was himself.
When a lad went with bad girls he was the cause of his own misfortune,
and no one else. "No, Uli," continued the master, "you must give up your
loose living; you make yourself unhappy, and I won't have such vexation
as you've caused me this week."

He hadn't done anything bad, Uli rejoined.

"Ho, ho," said the master; "I wonder whether getting full is something
good."

Oh, there were much worse than he, said Uli, and there were lots of
farmers that he couldn't hold a candle to.

He couldn't deny it, said the master, but a bad man didn't make the
others good, and even if many a farmer was a drunkard or even a
scoundrel, that didn't make Uli any better if he was a loafer and other
things besides.

Well, a man surely ought to be allowed to have some fun, said Uli;
who'd want to live if he couldn't have any fun any more?

"But Uli, is it any fun if you don't want to see anybody for a week
afterward, if you don't feel happy anywhere? Is it any fun if it can
make you miserable and unhappy for the rest of your life? Such fun is
the devil's bait. Of course you can have your fun; every man has a right
to it, but in good and right ways. You can tell whether a man is good or
bad by his enjoyment of good or bad things."

"Well, it's easy for you to crow," said Uli, "you've got the finest farm
for miles around, your stables are full of good stock, you granaries
full; you have a good wife--one of the best, and fine children; you can
enjoy yourself, for you have things to enjoy; if I had 'em, I'd never
think of sprees and wild living. But what have I got? I'm a poor lad,
haven't a soul in the world that wishes me well; my father's dead, my
mother too, and my sisters are all looking out for themselves.
Misfortune's my lot in this world; if I get sick, nobody wants me, and
if I die they'll bury me like a dog, and not a soul will cry over me.
Oh, why don't they kill the like of me when we come into the world!" And
with that, big strong Uli began to cry bitterly.

"Now, now, Uli," said the master, "you're not so badly off, if you'd
only think so. Give up your wild life and you can be a man yet. Many a
man has started with as little as you, and got house and farm and full
stables."

Yes, said Uli, such things didn't happen any more, and then a man had to
have more luck for that than he had.

"That's stupid talk," said the master; "how can a man talk of luck when
he throws away and squanders all he gets his hands on? I never saw a
coin yet that wasn't willing to leave the hand that spent it. But your
mistake is just this--that you don't believe you could become a man. You
think you're poor and will stay poor and are worth nothing, and so you
stay poor. If you thought something different, things would go better.
For everything still depends on what a man believes."

"But for goodness gracious sake, master," said Uli, "how should I get
rich? Think how little my pay is, and how many clothes I need; and I
have debts to boot. What's the use of saving? And can't I have any fun?"

"But for goodness gracious sake," echoed the master, "what are you
coming to if you've got debts now, while you're strong and well and
nobody to care for? You'll be a vagabond, and then nobody will want you
any more; you'll earn less and less and need more and more. No, Uli,
think it over a little; this can't go on. There's still time, and I tell
you honestly it would be a pity."

"It's no use; what's the good of drudging and giving up all my fun? I
shan't get anywhere; a poor lad like me can never be anything else,"
wailed Uli.

"See what the cow's doing," said the master. And when Uli came back with
the reply that the calf was not coming just yet, the master said, "I
shall remember all my life how our pastor explained serving in our
religious teaching, and how he made it so clear that you had to believe
him; and many a man has grown happy by doing so. He said that all men
got from God two great funds to put out at interest--namely, powers and
time. By good use of these we must win temporal and eternal life. Now,
many a man has nothing to exercise his powers on, so as to use his time
serviceably and profitably; so he lends his powers and his time to some
one who has too much work, but too little time and powers, in return for
a definite pay; that is called serving. But it was an unfortunate thing,
he said, that most servants regarded this serving as a misfortune and
their employers as their enemies or at least their oppressors; that they
regarded it as an advantage to do as little as possible for them, to be
able to waste as much time as possible in chattering, running, and
sleeping; that they became unfaithful, for they withheld in this way
from their masters what they had lent and sold to them--time. But as
every disloyalty punished itself, so this also caused very direful
consequences; for betrayal of the master was betrayal of oneself. Every
action tended imperceptibly to form a habit which we could never get rid
of. When a maid-servant or a man-servant had for years done as little as
possible, worked as slowly as possible, always grumbled at each new
task, and either run away, heedless of the outcome, or dawdled over it
so that the very grass grew under their feet, had taken no pains with
anything, spoiled as much as possible, never been careful but always
indifferent to everything--this soon formed a habit, and after a while
it couldn't be shaken off. Such a habit would be carried along into each
employment, and if in time independence came and marriage, then who had
to bear these habits--laziness, sloth, insubordination, discontent? The
man himself had to bear them and all their consequences, distress and
calamity, until death, through death, and before God's judgment seat. He
told us to look and see how many thousands were a burden to their
fellows and an offense to God, dragging themselves around as repulsive
creatures, visible witnesses to the thoughtful, how unfaithfulness
punishes itself."

"But as a man formed a habit by his acts, so also he made a name for
himself among others. For this name, for his reputation or esteem among
men, every man worked from childhood to the grave; every little act,
yes, every single word, contributed to this name. This name opens or
closes hearts to us, makes us worthy or unworthy, desired or rejected.
However humble a man, he has his name, and his fellows judge his value
to them by it. So every man-servant and maid-servant involuntarily
creates a name, and the amount of their wages is determined by it; it
opens a way to them or closes it. Then it's no use for a man to make
long speeches and complain about former employers; that won't give him a
good name, for his actions have already given him a bad one. His
reputation would be known for miles around, one scarcely knew how. This
name was a wonderful thing, and yet people gave much too little thought
to it, especially those with whom it was only second in importance to
their habits of mind; with these two things they wished to gain a third,
a good living in the world, wealth; and a fourth--Heaven and its
treasures. What a wretched wight he was, then, who had bad habits and a
bad name, and who was losing Heaven and earth!

"And so, the pastor continued, every man who went into service ought to
look on it not as slavery, nor the master as his enemy; but as
schooling, and the master as a blessing from God; for what should the
poor do--i.e., those who had but time and powers (and that was much
after all), if no one would give them work and pay. They should regard
their time of service as an opportunity to accustom themselves to work
and industry and make a good name for themselves among men. According as
they were true to the master they were true to themselves, and as the
master profited by them they profited themselves. They should never
think that only the master gained advantage from their industry; they
gained at least as much from it. Then, even if they came to a bad
master, they should by no means plan to punish him by bad behavior; they
would only injure themselves thereby, inwardly and outwardly. Now when a
servant worked better and better, was increasingly faithful and capable,
that was his own possession which nobody could take from him, and in
addition he had his good name. People would like him and intrust much to
him, and the world would be open to him. Let him undertake what he
would, he would find good people to help him because his good name was
the best security. We should stop and think what servants men
commended--the faithful or the unfaithful; and which among them attained
property and respect.

"Then the pastor said a third thing, and that touches you especially. He
said that men wanted to have pleasure and ought to have it, especially
in their youth. Now when a servant hated his service and found work
disagreeable, he would desire some special pleasures and so would begin
to idle, to run wild, to take part in bad affairs, and finally would
take delight in these things and meditate upon them day and night. But
if maid or man had seen the light, realized that they might come to
something, and had faith in themselves, then they would love their work,
would take pleasure in learning something, in doing something well;
pleasure in success at something, in the growth of what they had
planted, what they had fed. They would never say, 'What do I care about
this? What business is that of mine? I get nothing out of it.' No, they
would take genuine pleasure in doing something unusual, undertaking
something hard; thus their powers would best grow, thus they would make
the best name for themselves. So they would take delight in their
master's business, in his horses, cows, corn, grass, as if they were
their own. 'Of that in which a man delights doth he think; where the
treasure is, there is the heart also,' said the pastor. Now if the
servant has his mind on his service, if he is filled with the desire to
become a thoroughly capable man in the eyes of God and men, then the
devil has little power over him, cannot suggest evil things to him,
wicked thoughts for him to think continually, so that he hasn't his mind
on his work but is drawn from one vice to another and is ruined in soul
and body. Those were the pastor's words," concluded the master; "it
seems as if it was today that he spoke them to us, and I have seen a
hundred times over that he was right. I thought I'd tell it to you; it
just fits your case. And if you'd only think so, you could be one of the
finest lads in the world and have just the kind of life you want."

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.

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