The weather on this final day of the year had all at once become wondrously mild. Wintry nature appeared to be melting and weeping, as it were, silent tears of joy, for whatever happened to be ice and snow was now flowing down all the hillsides and slopes as cheerful warm water, flowing to meet the water of the lake. There was a great rustling and steaming, as if a spring day had gotten lost and wound up in the middle of winter. Such sunshine! A veritable day in May. The two sorts of feelings—both the beautiful and painful—that were stirring today with particular poignancy in the assistant’s breast were stimulated even further by the splendid weather, which simultaneously calmed and agitated them, so that now, as he ran down to the post office, it seemed to him as if he were walking down this beautiful road for the last time, beneath these familiar good trees, past all these things and faces that had always been equally pleasant to look upon in winter and summer alike.
He walked into Bachmann & Co. and asked for Wirsich, whom he had not seen for a good ten days now, for it had occurred to him to arrange for them to spend New Year’s Eve together in cozy celebration.
Wirsich? He’d been sent away a while ago, Joseph was told. It would have been utterly impossible to keep him on. He’d spent half the day, if not all of it, drunk out of his wits.
Joseph apologized and left the shop. “Can this be?” he thought and walked slowly toward the building that housed the post office. In the post office box he found a postcard from his Frau Weiss, wishing him luck and success. He smiled, shut the box, and set off on his way home, taking the path along the highway. Passing by the Rose Inn, which was on this road, he glimpsed Wirsich sitting at a table, propping his head in the hollow of his hand with a look of horrifying desperation. The face of this unhappy individual was as pale as death itself, his clothing was soiled, and there was no life left in his eyes.
Joseph went up to his predecessor and sat down beside him. Many words were not exchanged between the two of them. The consciousness of calamity is generally at a loss for words. The assistant drank rather heavily, as if to move one soul-step and a bit of understanding closer to his comrade, for he felt that a sober mind and rationality would have been almost inappropriate. Time passed as he listened to Wirsich’s account of how he had come to find himself driven out of a good post and livelihood yet again.
“Come with me, Wirsich, let’s take a walk,” Joseph said then. They paid their bill, the steadier of the two took the arm of the reeling, inconsolable one, it was already afternoon, and now the two of them went walking side by side, first straight ahead for a bit, then uphill, across the welcoming meadows. How mild it all was. How a person might have chattered and joked about had one been in the company of a child, a girl or a beautiful lady. How one, had this been halfway permissible, might have kissed. On some bench high up on a mountaintop, say. Or how one might have spoken, for example with a brother, or how it might have been if Wirsich had been an established, worldly-wise and kind-hearted older gentleman. They would have laughed, and solemn but peaceful words would have been beautifully murmured. But when you looked at Wirsich, you couldn’t help secretly feeling a bit cross and resentful toward the circumstances and fates that govern this world, for Wirsich just then was not a pretty sight.
Joseph thought of the Toblers, and his heart began faintly to pound. How had he come to absent himself from house and office for an entire half a day without first asking leave? He reproached himself apprehensively.
Yet he found himself meanwhile in an almost holy mood. The entire landscape appeared to him to be praying, so invitingly, with all its faint, muted earthen hues. The green of the meadows was smiling out from beneath the snow, which the sun had broken into white islands and patches. Evening was just starting to arrive, and at such a moment he would have found it difficult to regret his decision to go out with Wirsich for a walk.
On the contrary, he’d done quite well to do so, of this he was convinced. How could he have turned his back on an unfortunate like this? And now the figure of the drinker appeared to harmonize so beautifully with the landscape and the gathering dusk. Already people in their houses were beginning to light lamps, already the colors were disappearing and one saw only the softer, broader outlines of things, and now the two of them went home; strangely, both of them chose the path leading to Tobler’s house without prior discussion.
Tobler was not at home. His wife was sitting all alone in the living room, in the dark—she hadn’t yet lit the lamp—and Pauline and the children were still outdoors somewhere. The unexpected arrival of two such crepuscular figures startled her, but she quickly composed herself, put on the light and asked Joseph why he hadn’t appeared for lunch that day, Tobler had gotten all worked up about it, he was angry, and she feared there would be some new unpleasantness.
“Good evening, Wirsich,” she said to the other man, holding out her hand for him to press. “How are things with you?”
“All right, things are all right,” he said. To this Joseph added:
“Frau Tobler, would you allow me to play host to my companion in the tower room tonight? He is, I believe, at a loss as to where to spend the night if not at the Rose, but I wish to do everything in my power to prevent his sitting up all night there. Wirsich has just lost his new position and livelihood—through his own fault, as he himself knows quite well. He has squandered all his money on drink. If he were now to throw himself into the lake, he would be committing an act that might well make those who live a life of luxury simply shrug their shoulders, but this would be a terrible thing that could never be undone. He is a drunkard, a person most likely beyond saving—and this is something I will say here, even in your presence, Wirsich, for there is no point in attempting to be tactful with individuals of this sort, for they have long since lost all self-control. But there is no need for him to meet his end today, and as for myself, I feel no compunction about bringing him, my best friend and comrade, into a house where I have been employed as a worker and made to feel at home as a resident. I shall be going out with him again for a little while, for tonight, on New Year’s Eve, there is no sense in locking oneself away in some dry, joyless room; on the contrary, it is my intention to spend the night peacefully and respectably—let me come right out and say it—tippling in the company of my predecessor, for this is what is being done today by all people who believe they may permit themselves to do so. Then I shall return here with Wirsich so as to let him share my room with me, regardless of whether or not this meets with Herr Tobler’s approval. I wanted to inform you of this in advance, Frau Tobler. Now that I have witnessed my comrade’s misfortune, I find my heart is able to embrace many things with the most beautiful and peaceful equanimity that in previous months might have caused it agitation. I feel the courage to look deeply, boldly and warmly into the eyes of my future life. I have genuine faith in my little bit of strength, and this is more than if a person were to possess entire cartloads of strength and hayracks full of ability but at the same time did not trust them or even really know them. Good night, Frau Tobler, I thank you for having had the kindness to hear me out.”
Frau Tobler said good night to the two of them. The children returned at just this moment. “Wirsich is here!” they all cried out in merry, gleeful pleasure. He had to shake hands with each of them, and all who witnessed this had the peculiar feeling that Wirisch was once more being integrated into the Tobler household, or that he’d remained a member of it during all this time of absence, as if he’d only just gone into another room and read a somewhat prolix and extravagant book, as if his straying had only lasted for an hour or two, so eloquently did the children’s delight at seeing him again speak in his favor.
Hereupon the woman, who had been meaning to put on a severe, cold expression, became jovial and her usual cheerful self again and told the two companions, who had already gone out into the garden, that they should remember to preserve some degree of moderation and not allow their drinking and carousing to get too terribly out of hand. Of course it went witho
ut saying that Wirsich, who once had been a member of the Tobler family, could spend the night here. And she would have a word with her husband to ensure that he would not make a scene.
“Good night, Frau Tobler, so long, Dora, so long, Walter!” resounded from Joseph’s mouth back in the direction of the house.
Down in his little shack, the signalman was singing a song. His warm, masculine voice seemed to mesh beautifully with the mildness of the night. The song sounded so constant and unvaried that, hearing it, one could easily believe it would keep resounding and ringing out beyond the end of the old year and into the new one.
Joseph Marti and Wirsich slowly proceeded down the road in the direction of town.
To describe what these two New Year’s comrades performed and set about down in the village in the course of this night—which public houses they visited, how many glasses they emptied, in what sorts of conversations they engaged one another—would be to consign things that are important and essential to the realm of the unimportant and insignificant. They spoke of such things as colleagues are wont to speak of, and they behaved the way people tend to on New Year’s Eve, in other words, they devoted themselves to the pursuit of a gradual but therefore all the more pleasurable and purposeful inebriation. In one of Bärenswil’s numerous restaurants they crossed paths with Tobler, who was sitting at a table with friends and, curiously, speaking about religion. Joseph heard—at least insofar as he was still capable of hearing at all—his employer exclaiming that he was raising his children according to religious principles but that he himself believed in nothing, things like that ceased when one became a man. The engineer paid no heed to either of his employees, neither the current nor the former one, as he was utterly engrossed in this conversation.
At twelve o’clock, the bells began to ring out and resound, announcing the start of the new year with a great pealing and thunderous clamor. On the square beside the dock, the village band was playing, accompanied and then followed by the choirs of the Men’s Singing Club. Many people were standing in a circle, their faces lit up by torches, to take in this nocturnal concert. Joseph noticed the insurance agent who was on good terms with Tobler among the spectators and listeners, but he also saw the furious professional gardener, the most bitter enemy of the technical enterprises.
The innkeepers reaped excellent profits on this night, better than they had in weeks. Many a guest drank a bottle of fine wine today who had drunk nothing but beer all year long. Many a one indulged himself by ordering something he would usually have thought of as beyond his means; this produced lovely fat bills, which were paid at once in cash.
Frau Tobler had come, accompanied by Pauline, to hear the midnight music. She looked quiet and self-conscious, quite the opposite of the female villagers sending impertinent glances her way, who apparently were taking particular delight in causing her embarrassment. She was isolated today, neither well-respected nor well-loved, but she endured this.
Late the next morning, two not yet well-rested heads awoke in the tower room. It was broad daylight, already eleven in the morning if not half past eleven, in other words nearly noon. Quickly Marti and Wirsich got dressed to go downstairs. Herr Tobler was already standing in the office. His rage when he caught sight of the latecomer and the unbidden intruder knew no bounds. He was almost on the point of striking Joseph.
“Not only,” he shouted, “did you stay out all day yesterday without a single word of apology or even informing me of your intentions and then malingered all night long, now you have the impudence to miss and sleep through an additional half a day. This is outrageous. Admittedly there may not be anything of importance to be done down here today, but someone might come by on business, and what sort of impression will it make if the maid is forced to announce to the arrival that my scoundrel of an assistant is still lying in the hay upstairs? I don’t want to hear a word from you. Consider yourself fortunate if I do not box your ears left and right as you deserve. And on top of everything else he has the audacity to arrive in the company of an individual who, if he does not make himself scarce this instant and get out of my sight once and for all as I am commanding him, will have other, more explicit things in store for him. And he shows up in a state of perfect calm such as might befit some gallows bird but certainly not the, let us hope, dutiful employee of the House of Tobler. This house remains a house and my house, and the uncertainty in which it happens to find itself at present doesn’t give anyone the right to make a fool and knave of me, least of all my clerk, to whom I pay the salary he lives on. Sit down at your desk and get to work. Write. We are going to try the Advertising Clock one last time. Pick up your pen.”
The assistant said with a calm that was the ultimate affront:
“Pay me the rest of my salary as I was promised.”
He scarcely knew what he was saying, he was just filled with a definitive sense of finality. It would have been impossible for him to pick up his pen, he was trembling so violently, and for this reason he involuntarily said the thing clearly most likely to put an end to all of this.
And indeed Tobler immediately lost all self-control.
“Get out of this house at once! Go! To my enemies with you! I no longer need you.”
He began to hurl invectives at Joseph, at first vicious ones, but then these curses grew weaker and weaker until at last the rage in his voice had given way to sounds of lamentation and pain. Joseph was still standing there. It seemed to him as if he ought to feel pity for the entire world—for himself as well, at least a little, but powerful, contemplative pity for everything around him. Wirsich had long since gone out to the garden for the time being. The dog greeted its old acquaintance with a wagging tail. Frau Tobler meanwhile was standing at the living room window, straining her ears to hear through the plaster and stone whatever might make its way to her from below. At the same time, she was observing the movements of the former assistant standing in the garden.
“I’ll just finish off these few letters, Herr Tobler, and then I’ll go,” was heard from the desk.
Tobler asked whether he really intended to leave without having been paid.
The other replied that it was no longer possible for him to remain, whereupon Tobler said he shouldn’t take things so dreadfully seriously. The boss took his hat and left. After an hour, the assistant went up to the tower room as unobtrusively as he was able and there began to pack his few things. One after the other, he once again took up each of these small objects which, though they were insignificant, held great significance for him, and placed them neatly but quickly into the suitcase that stood waiting. When he was done packing, he stood at the open window for two minutes and let his grateful heart take one last good look at the region. He even blew a kiss to the huge lake below him, not stopping to consider what he was doing, but rather simply in the spirit of the leave-taking that had suddenly become necessary.
From the balcony onto which he now stepped, he called down to Wirsich: “Wait for me, I’ll be down in a moment.” Then he went downstairs with his little suitcase in his hand. How his heart was pounding!
“I must say goodbye now, I have to leave,” he said to Frau Tobler. She asked:
“Whatever happened? Do you really have to go?”
“Yes,” the assistant said.
“Will you think of me a little when you are gone?”
He bent down and kissed both her hands. She said:
“Yes, Joseph, think of Frau Tobler a little, it will do you no harm. She is a woman like many others, a woman of little importance. Stop that! Don’t keep kissing my hand. Say goodbye to my children. Walter! Come here. Joseph means to leave us. Come, Dora, shake hands with Joseph. Children, come! That’s right.”
She remained silent for a moment and then continued:
“Things will surely go well for you—I hope and wish this, and almost know it for a fact. Always be a little bit humble, not too much. You will always have to stand on your own two feet. But never fly off the handle, always let the
first words spoken in ill will remain unanswered; hard words can so quickly be followed by modest, gentle ones. Accustom yourself to overcoming wounded feelings in silence. Women are compelled to do this every day, and it is worth considering for men as well. Life in the world, after all, is subject to the same laws as household life, it is just that they are grander and broader. Never be a hothead! Have you really packed up everything that belongs to you? Are you leaving now with Wirsich? Listen, Marti, never act merely out of compulsion, and always be a little courteous. Then you’re certain to better yourself. As for me, I too will soon be leaving this place. This house is lost. We—I and my husband and my children—will go live in the city, no doubt in cheap lodgings somewhere. One can get used to anything, and isn’t it true you were a tiny bit happy here with us? No? After all, there were so many nice things. Wouldn’t you like me to say goodbye to Tobler for you?”
“With all my heart!” the assistant said. One last time she spoke:
“I shall let him know, he will be glad of it. You owe it to him not to bear him a grudge, he was fond of you, as we all were. You were our employee—no, go now. Best of luck to you, Joseph.”
She pressed his hand and then turned to her children as if nothing had happened. He picked up his little suitcase from the floor and went out. And then the two of them, Marti and Wirsich, left the Evening Star.
When they had reached the road down below, Joseph stopped, took one of Tobler’s cheroots out of his pocket, lit it, and then turned around to look at the house one last time. In his thoughts he saluted it, and then the two of them walked on.
Afterword
The Assistant Page 25