The Tanners

by Robert Walser

  “You must clean my shoes better, Simon,” the woman said.

  Simon was delighted to have been reprimanded. Back in the days when he’d gone wandering through hot, scorched, abandoned streets without direction, how often his heart had yearned for a cruel harsh reprimand, a curse, even words of disparagement or abuse, just to have the certainty that he wasn’t utterly alone, that his existence wasn’t going entirely unheeded, even if the heed paid it was a rude negative sort. “How sweet this reprimand sounds coming from her womanly mouth,” he thought, “and how this binds me to her, how tightly it binds and knots and shackles me, a reprimand like that feels like a tiny, scarcely at all painful box on the ears prompted by a mistake one has made”; and Simon secretly resolved to go on making mistakes, that is, no, perhaps not exclusively, as that would mark him as a dunce, but regularly to have minor slip-ups, nice intentional ones, so as to have the pleasure of seeing this sensitive female, who was used to having things just so, filled with indignation. Indignation? Well, maybe not exactly indignation, but at least a sort of questioning, an astonishment at his, Simon’s clumsiness. Then a person would be given the opportunity to shine in other ways, and so one would be allowed the pleasure of watching a stern, vexed face turn into a more friendly, satisfied one. How delightful to be able to transform another’s mood from displeasure to contentment when this person had been aggrieved just a moment before. “I’ve already acquired one adorable reprimand today,” Simon thought, and further: “How pleasant it is to be the one being reprimanded—this is, in a matter of speaking, a more mature, superior state. I was made to be reprimanded, for I’m always grateful to receive reprimands; the only people who deserve the favor of being reprimanded are those who know how to express their thanks by assuming an appropriate bearing.”

  Simon was in fact standing there appropriately, and he felt: “Now I’ve really become this woman’s servant; her reprimanding me shows she feels within her right to rebuke me without much forethought, and from me in return she expects a decorous silence. When a superior castigates a subordinate official, this causes him pain, and it’s always secretly one’s intention to hurt a subordinate by drawing his attention to one’s own higher standing. One reprimands a servant only with the intention of instructing and training him to be as one wishes; for a servant belongs to one, whereas one’s relationship with a subordinate official ends along with the workday. I, for example, have now been chastised with heartfelt warmth, and in addition one must consider that this reprimand came from a woman who belongs to those women who are always lovely when they set about something of the sort. Indeed, one need only hear ladies giving voice to reprimands to realize how much better they are than men at rebuking those at fault while avoiding petty slights. But perhaps this is wrong, and it’s just that I consider words that would wound me coming from a man to be far from insulting—encouraging even—on a woman’s lips. Standing before a man, I’m always conscious of a proud equality, but with a woman: never, since after all I’m a man or at least preparing to become one. With a woman, one must always feel either superior or subordinate! —To obey a child if it has a charming way of giving orders is easy for me, but to obey a man: Fie! Only cowardice and financial interests might cause one man to cower before another: such base motives! So I’m glad it’s my duty to obey a woman; this comes quite naturally, as it can never be injurious to one’s honor. A woman can never injure a man’s honor except by adultery, but in these cases the man is most likely behaving like a dunce and a weakling who cannot be dishonored even by the betrayal itself, as the very possibility of its occurring has long since dishonored him in the eyes of all who know him. Women can make you unhappy, but they can never dishonor you; for true unhappiness is no disgrace and can appear comical only to coarse people and sensibilities, individuals who, let us note, dishonor only themselves with their derision.”

  “Come here!”

  With these words the lady plucked the servant from his presumptuous train of thought and commanded him to go dress the sickly lad. He obeyed and did as she asked. He carried a basin of fresh water to the bedside and with a sponge carefully washed the boy’s face, gave him a glass half filled with clean water and had him rinse his mouth, which the boy lying in bed did very prettily with his beautiful hands, applied brush and comb to his hair, and finally served him his breakfast on a silver tray, watching as it was methodically consumed—with a great deal of picking up and putting down—without growing weary or even impatient; for how ugly and unfitting impatience would have been here; then he carried the dishes back out again and returned to dress the invalid, who was unable to dress himself. He lifted the light thin body somewhat gingerly from the bed, having first pulled the stockings over the feet and legs, placed little house slippers on the feet, picked up the trousers to put them on, buckled the belt, tossed the suspenders properly from back to front—all of this quickly, soundlessly and with economy of gesture—then placed the collar around the boy’s neck, a wide, folded boy’s collar, skillfully attached necktie to shirt button, the shirt of course having already been put on; and now he presented the vest, had the boy slip his arms through the armholes, and then the same with the jacket and the few objects the boy was in the habit of carrying around, such as watch, watch fob, pocketknife, handkerchief and notebook, and the opus was finished. Now Simon had to straighten the bed of his young master, as well as tidying the entire bedroom just as the lady had showed him, opening the windows, distributing the pillows, comforters and sheet on the windowsills and doing all these things just as they ought—and as it appeared to him they ought—to be done. The lady watched his every move the way a fencing instructor observes the movements of his pupil, and found that he devoted himself to these tasks with talent. Not that she uttered even a single word of approval. This would never have occurred to her. Besides which, the servant ought to realize from her silence that she condoned his manner of working. She was glad to see how tender he was with her son, for she had noted how Simon’s each gesture as he dressed the invalid expressed his respect for him. She couldn’t help smiling as she saw how hesitantly he’d touched the boy at first, and then later, as he overcame this hesitation, his gestures had become more firm, steady and calm. She was quite pleased with the young man so far, she had to confess to herself. “If he continues in this way, I’ll have to love him for not deceiving me in the feeling I had about him right from the start,” she thought. “He’s very quiet and respectable and appears to be talented at familiarizing himself quickly with any situation. And since he, as I believe I am allowed to conclude from his manners, comes from a good background, I shall insist on intelligent, attractive behavior on his part, for the sake of his mother, who is perhaps still alive, and that of his siblings, who perhaps hold positions of some respect and are concerned about his fate, and it will delight me when I see him getting the hang of things and behaving as is expected of him. Perhaps I shall soon be permitted to treat him in a more confidential manner than one is usually forced to adopt with one’s servants. But I shall take care all the same not to give him an excuse to get fresh with me by overhasty friendly accommodations. His character contains a faint smack of impertinence and audacity, and these must not be encouraged. I shall always have to suppress the pleasure I take in him if I wish him always to have the desire to please me. I think he is much taken with my stern face; I guessed something of the sort when he smiled a moment ago as I was giving him what was after all a rather unfriendly dressing-down. One must guess about people if one wishes
to see them at their best. He has soul, this young man, and so one must approach him in a soulful, soul-conscious way to get anywhere with him. One must be considerate while at the same time acting as if one isn’t showing any particular consideration, since after all that’s certainly not necessary. But it’s better and wiser to be considerate if it can be done without a fuss.” —She resolved to see Simon in this adventurous light, and now sent him out to do the shopping.

  What a novelty it was for Simon to go hurrying through the streets with a basket or leather tote bag in his hand, to purchase meat and vegetables, to walk into shops and then run back home again. In the streets he saw people going about their various sorts of business, each animated by an intention, as he was himself. It seemed that people were surprised at his figure. Might his way of walking fail to accord with the full basket he was easily carrying? Were his gestures too unrestrained to correspond to his commission, that is, to running errands? But these were friendly glances he was receiving; for people saw he was hurrying and busy, and he must have given the impression of a dutiful man. “How beautiful it is,” Simon thought, “to rush through the streets like this with a duty in one’s head alongside all the swarms of people, being overtaken by a few who have longer legs, while flying past others who walk more indolently, as though they have lead in their shoes. How agreeable it is to be seen by these spick-and-span maidservants as one of their own, to observe what a sharp eye these simple creatures have, to note that they might be tempted to stop for a bit and chat with you for ten minutes. How the dogs go tearing along the street as if they were chasing the wind, and how busily the graybeards are still rushing about with their hunched necks and backs! Can you look at this and still wish merely to stroll? How charming women are whom you’re allowed to race past without attracting their notice. How could you expect them to notice you? That would certainly be something! It’s enough to have observant eyes yourself. Does a person have senses only to be kindled by others and not to kindle oneself? The eyes of women on a morning street like this are so utterly splendid when they gaze off into the distance. Eyes looking past you are more beautiful than eyes that gaze directly at you. It’s as if they lost something. How quickly you think and feel when you’re walking so briskly. Just don’t start looking at the sky! No, it’s best just to sense that somewhere up there, above your head and all the buildings, something beautiful and broad is hovering, a hovering something that is perhaps also blue and most certainly fragrant. You have duties—and this too is a hovering, flying, enthralling something. You are carrying on your person something that must be counted out and handed over if you wish to be seen as reliable, and given my present circumstances, I consider it infinitely agreeable to be reliable. Nature? Let it conceal itself for the moment. Yes, it seems to me as if it were in hiding there, behind the long rows of buildings. The forest has, for the time being, lost its appeal for me, and I don’t wish to be tempted by it. All the same, there’s something beautiful about thinking that everything’s still there while I fleetingly, busily rush through the blinding streets, paying no heed to anything that’s not simple enough to be understood by my nose.”—Once more he counted the money in his vest pocket with sentient fingers, not taking it out, and then went home.

  Now he had the table to set.

  He had to spread a clean white tablecloth over the table with the creases facing up, then lay out the plates in such a way that their rims didn’t protrude over the edge of the table, then distribute forks, knives and spoons, set glasses in their places along with a carafe of fresh water, lay napkins upon the plates and set the salt-cellar on the table. Setting and laying, placing and touching and arranging, touching daintily, then more firmly, touching cloth only with fingertips and plates with great care, distributing and adjusting, the silverware for instance, being noiseless in the process, swift and yet also cautious, both careful and bold, stiff and smooth, calm yet vigorous, not letting the glasses clink together or the plates clack, but also showing no astonishment should a clinking or clacking be heard, instead finding this comprehensible, and then announcing to one’s masters that the table was set before bringing out the dishes and withdrawing through the door, only to go back in again when the bell was rung, watching the food being eaten and taking pleasure in this, telling oneself it was more agreeable to watch others eat than to eat, then clearing the table again, carrying out the dishes, putting a leftover scrap of roast meat in one’s mouth and making an exultant face, as though this were an action that required an exultant look, then eating oneself and finding that one really did deserve to eat now: All these things Simon had to do. He didn’t have to do all of it, for instance he wasn’t required to look exultant when he stole, but it was his first tender theft, and for this reason he had to be exultant; for it reminded him vividly of childhood, when one steals something or other from the pantry and exults.

  After the meal, he had to help the girl clean the dishes, wash and dry them, and the girl was not a little surprised to see how nimble he was at this task. Where had he learned how? “I used to live in the country,” Simon responded, “and in the country one does such things. I have a sister there who’s a teacher, I always helped her dry the dishes.”

  “That was nice of you.”

  –12–

  To Simon it appeared quite marvelous to be laboring in this quiet kitchen in the middle of the big city. Who’d ever have thought it? No, human beings never quite managed to envision their futures. He who in earlier days had gone wandering freely across mountain meadows, sleeping like a hunter beneath the stars and gasping for breath when he discovered vistas that gave new expanse and depth to the earth below, who wished the sun were even hotter, the wind stormier, the nights darker and the cold more bitter when he ran around out of doors in all seasons and weather, searching, rubbing his hands together and puffing—now he was cooped up in a tiny kitchen drying a dripping plate while it was still warm. He was glad. “How glad I am to be so hemmed in, so confined, so enclosed,” he thought. “Why should a person always be hankering for wide open spaces, and isn’t longing so restrictive a sentiment? Here I am tightly squeezed in between four kitchen walls, but my heart is wide open and filled with the pleasure I take in my modest duty.”

  He did find it a bit humiliating to be in a kitchen, occupied with a task ordinarily performed only by girls. It was a bit humiliating and a bit ridiculous, but nonetheless most certainly mysterious and odd. No one could possibly dream of finding him here. This thought had something gratifying and proud about it. Having such a thought could make one smile. The girl asked what he’d been in his former life, and he replied: “A copy clerk!” She couldn’t comprehend how a person could possess so little ambition as to leave behind his desk in order to creep into domestic service. Simon replied that his case, first of all, involved nothing that might be described as creeping, as she so charmingly expressed herself, and secondly it was still an open question which was preferable: sitting behind a desk or leading a plate wiper’s existence. He by far preferred the open, airy, warm, steamy, interesting kitchen to the dry-as-dust office where the air was usually stale and the general mood embittered. How could one feel bitter in a kitchen where a roast was stewing in the pan, vegetables cooking, soup steaming, the copper shining down so sweetly from the rack and the plates making such a friendly sound when one knocked them together. But being a servant, the spirited maiden rejoined—it wasn’t much, it didn’t amount to anything. He didn’t want to amount to anything, Simon said softly. S
he let that be the end of it, but she found he was a curious, difficult to understand person. But she also thought: “He’s decent,” and felt he might be “allowed some liberties.” Simon had just finished his drying when the lady walked into the kitchen and bid him come into the other room, she had a task for him. “What lovely task might she have for me,” Simon wondered, and he followed the woman striding on ahead. “During the afternoon, there’s nothing further for you to do, so you might as well read to my son and me. Do you know how to read aloud out of a book?” Simon said he did.

  And then he read to them for a full hour. His breath was somewhat strained, but he read with accurate, clear, good enunciation, in a warm voice that demonstrated the reader was moved by what he read. The lady appeared pleased, and the boy was all ears to the very end, whereupon he thanked Simon graciously for the treat. Simon, whose cheeks were glowing bright red with emotion, found it lovely to be thanked. He betook himself, since for the moment he didn’t know what else to do, into the domestics’ quarters, which were lit up red by the evening sun, and began to smoke out the window.

  “I disapprove of your smoking here,” said the woman, entering the room.

  He, however, went on smoking, and she left again, rather miffed. “Certainly I can understand her disapproval, but must she really approve of everything about me? I’m not about to give up smoking. No, I won’t, devil take it! Even if twenty ladies were to come one after the other and forbid me to smoke.” He was furious, but at once his mood lightened again, and he said to himself: “I ought to have tossed the cigarette away; that was impertinent!”