The Black Spider (New York Review Books Classics)

by Jeremias Gotthelf

  In all the castle, only a few servants who had never mocked the peasants had been spared; now they related this dreadful scene. Yet the sense that the knights had been rightly served was no consolation to the peasants, whose terror grew ever greater and more horrific. Some attempted to flee. Some tried to leave the valley but quickly felt the spider’s wrath. Their corpses were found along the road. Others fled into the high mountains, but the spider was always there ahead of them, and just as they thought themselves in safety, it would appear sitting on the back of one, the face of another. The creature grew ever more malicious, ever more devilish. It no longer contented itself with surprising them unawares and inoculating the unsuspecting with fiery death; no, it sat before its victim in the grass or dangled from a tree with its baleful stare. Then the person would run as far as his feet would carry him, and when he stood still again, out of breath, there the spider would sit regarding him with its baleful glower. Yet if he fled once again and once again was compelled to curb his steps, it would once again sit before him when he stopped, and when he could flee no longer, only then would it slowly creep up to him, bringing death.

  Many a peasant in his despair tried to resist the beast—could not the spider be killed?—and dropped hundredweight stones upon it as it sat before him in the grass, or struck at it with a cudgel or ax, but all in vain: The heaviest stone could not crush it, the sharpest ax did not harm it, and an instant later it sat already in his face or crept up to him unharmed. Flight, resistance—it was no use. All hope vanished, and despair filled the valley and rested upon the mountains.

  Only a single house had thus far been spared by the hideous creature—it had never been seen there. This was the house where she had lived, the house from which she had stolen the child. She had attacked her own husband in a secluded pasture; his corpse had been found there, more frightfully mutilated than any of the other victims, his features distorted in unspeakable pain; on him she had unleashed her most dreadful wrath, welcoming him to the most dreadful reunion. But no one had been there to witness what occurred.

  The spider had not yet paid a visit here; whether it was saving this house for last or shrank from it none could guess. But the fear had established itself here no less than anywhere else.

  The pious woman had recovered her health, and she felt no apprehension on her own behalf, but she did fear for her devoted little boy and his sister, and she watched over them day and night, and the stalwart grandmother shared her worry and watching. And together they prayed to God that He might keep their eyes open and vigilant, and enlighten and strengthen them to protect these innocent babes.

  Often it seemed to them, when they kept watch all the long night, as if they saw the spider glimmering and glinting in a dark corner, or else peering in at the window; then their fear was great, for they knew no means to shield the children from the spider, and with even greater ardor they implored God for His council and aid. They had collected weapons of all sorts, but after they heard how the stone lost its weight and the ax its sharp edge, they laid them aside again. Then an idea occurred to the mother that kept returning to her ever more vividly and clearly: If someone had the courage to seize the spider with his hand, it would be possible to overpower it. She heard tell of people who, when a stone proved ineffectual, attempted to crush the spider in their hands, but always in vain. A horrific fiery stream shooting through hand and arm extinguished all strength and brought death to the heart. Yet it also seemed to her that, though she could not crush the spider, yet she might succeed in seizing it, and surely God would give her the strength to put the spider in a place where it could do no more harm. She had often heard before how skillful men had trapped spirits in a hole in rock or in wood that they had nailed shut, and as long as no one drew out the nail, the spirit remained trapped in the hole.

  She felt an ever stronger urge to attempt such a deed. She gouged out a hole in the post closest to her, just to her right as she sat at the cradle, then prepared a peg that fit tightly in the hole, sanctified it with holy water, laid a hammer alongside, and now prayed day and night asking God to give her the strength to carry out her plan. But sometimes the flesh was stronger than the spirit, and heavy sleep would press her eyes shut; then in her dreams she would see the spider glowering at her from atop her son’s golden locks, and she would precipitously awake and reach out her hands for the boy’s head. But there was no spider there, a smile rested on the delightful little face, the way children smile when they see their angel in a dream; but the mother saw the spider’s baleful eyes glittering from every corner of the room, and for a long time sleep eluded her.

  Once after just such a stint of strict vigilance, sleep had overpowered her, thickly enveloping her in night. And then it seemed to her as if the pious priest who had died to save her child came racing toward her from distant regions, shouting to her from afar: “Woman, wake up, your enemy is here!” Three times he shouted, and only with the third shout was she able to wrench herself free from sleep’s close fetters; but when with effort she lifted her heavy eyelids, she saw the spider, swollen big with venom, striding slowly across the little bed towards the face of her child. She thought of God, put out her hand, and quickly seized the spider. Streams of fire shot from it through the mother’s hand and arm all the way to her heart, but maternal fealty and maternal love pressed her hand closed, and God gave her the strength to endure the pain. Suffering a thousand mortal agonies, she thrust the spider with one hand into the hole she had prepared, and with the other held the plug before it, then took up the hammer and struck it home.

  From inside the hole came a great roaring and raging as when whirlwinds enter into combat with the sea, the house trembled in its foundations, but the plug fit tightly and the spider was imprisoned. The steadfast mother had time to feel glad that she had saved her little child and to thank God for His mercy, and then she died the same death as all the others, but her maternal fealty eradicated her pain, and the angels conducted her soul to God’s throne, where dwell all the heroes who have given their lives for others, risking everything for God and those they love.

  Now the black death had come to an end. Peace and life returned to the valley. The black spider was seen no more from this time on, for it was imprisoned in that hole where it still sits to this day.

  * * *

  “What, there in the black piece of wood?” the godmother cried out, leaping up as if she’d sat on an anthill. She’d sat right before that post in the room. And now she felt a burning in her back and spun about, looking behind her and rubbing her hand up and down, unable to free herself from the fear that the black spider was sitting there at the back of her neck.

  The others too found their hearts constricted as the grandfather fell silent. A great silence had come over them. No one dared utter a mocking word, but neither was anyone eager to agree with what had been said; each preferred to hear what the others said first and to choose his own words accordingly; thus does one mistake oneself the least. And now the nurse came running, having already called them several times without receiving a response, her cheeks burning bright red as if the spider had crept across them. She began to scold, complaining that no one wanted to come no matter how loudly she called to them. A most peculiar business she found it: cooking and then finding oneself unable to coax the guests to table, and later when the food was no longer good, the blame would fall on her, she knew quite well how that went. Such rich meats as now were set out on the table could no longer be eaten once they’d gone cold; it would even be unhealthy to do so.

  Now the company rose to follow, but they moved slowly, and no one wanted to be first at the door; the grandfather had to enter first. This time it wasn’t just that custom prohibited giving the appearance of undue eagerness to eat; it was a hesitation such as might befall anyone finding himself at the threshold of a dreadful place, and yet there was nothing dreadful inside. Upon the table, freshly filled wine bottles gleamed brightly, two glistening hams presented themselves in all their glor
y, mighty roasts of mutton and veal steamed, fresh Züpfen lay between them, plates heaped with cakes, plates with three sorts of tarts had been crammed in as well, nor were the little pitchers of sweetened tea lacking. It was a delightful spectacle, and yet they paid it little heed, for all of them kept peering about them with fearful eyes to see if the spider wasn’t glinting in some corner or even glowering down at them with its baleful eyes from atop the splendid ham. The spider was nowhere to be seen, and yet no one paid the usual compliments: asking what could their hosts have been thinking to set out so much more food—who could possibly eat it all? They’d already had more than too much. Instead all of them clustered at the bottom end of the table; no one wanted to sit near its head.

  To no avail were the guests admonished to take their seats up where so many empty places remained; they stayed standing as if rooted at the table’s far end; in vain did the child’s father fill glass after glass, calling to the guests to come and drink a toast now that their glasses were full. Then he took the godmother’s arm, saying, “Won’t you be the sensible one and set a good example!” But summoning all her strength—and her strength was considerable—she resisted him, exclaiming, “Not for a thousand gulden would I sit up there now! I feel a creeping and crawling all up and down my back as if someone were brushing me with stinging nettles. If I sat there before that post, I would never stop feeling that horrible spider at my back.” “It’s all your fault, Grandfather,” the grandmother said. “Why do you have to bring up stories like that? They have no use anymore, and besides, they can do the entire household harm. If some day the children come home from school in tears because their classmates say their grandmother was a witch who got locked up in the window post—then you’ll see.”

  “Peace, Grandmother!” the grandfather said. “Nowadays people are quick to forget what they’ve heard, no one remembers things the way we used to. They wanted to hear the story, and it’s better for people to hear the truth straight out than to imagine things on their own; the truth brings no dishonor on our house. But come and sit! Look, I myself will take the seat before the window post. I’ve sat here on many thousands of occasions without fear or apprehension, and therefore also without danger. Only when wicked thoughts cropped up within me—thoughts that the devil might put to use—did it seem to me I could hear a sort of purring behind me, the way a cat purrs when you bestow your affections upon it, petting it so that it feels pleasure, and I felt an odd, peculiar sensation running up my spine. But otherwise it’s always quiet as a mouse in there, and as long as God is not forgotten here on the outside, it must continue its vigil within.”

  Then the guests plucked up their courage and sat down, but no one sat particularly close to the grandfather. Now finally the child’s father could begin to serve, placing a mighty slice of roast meat upon his neighbor’s plate, and she cut off a little piece and placed the rest on her neighbor’s plate, using her thumb to push it from her fork. And so the piece of roast circulated until someone said he believed he would keep it, as there was more where it had come from; and then a new slice made the rounds. While the child’s father filled glasses and plates, and the guests remarked on this strenuous day he’d had, the nurse walked around the table with the sweetened tea, pungently spiced with saffron and cinnamon, which she offered to the guests, noting that anyone who was fond of it should not hesitate to say so, as there was plenty for all. And whenever someone declared himself in favor, she poured some of the tea into his wine, saying that she was fond of it herself, as it made the wine easier to tolerate and prevented headaches. They ate and drank. But the hubbub that ensues whenever people address themselves to a dish that’s just been served had scarcely died down when the company grew still again, and a solemn expression came over their faces, and it was clear that once more they were thinking about the spider. Apprehensive, surreptitious glances hovered about the plug at the grandfather’s back, and yet no one dared to bring it up again.

  Then the godmother gave a loud shriek and almost fell off her chair. A fly had run across the peg in the wall, and for a moment she’d thought it was the spider’s black legs scrabbling out of the hole; her whole body shook with fright. Soon they were done laughing at her, and her fright was a welcome occasion to speak of the spider once more, for when something truly touches one’s soul, the soul cannot let go of it so quickly.

  “But listen, cousin,” the older godfather said, “has the spider really not gotten out of its hole in all these many hundreds of years and just stayed there all this time?” “Dear me,” the grandmother said, “it would be better to let the matter rest; you’ve spoken of nothing else all afternoon.” “Please, Mother,” the cousin said, “let your old man speak, he whiled away the time for us excellently before, and no one will blame the thing on you; you aren’t Christine’s descendants. And you can’t stop us from thinking about it; if you forbid us to speak of it, we’ll speak of nothing else either, and that will be the end of the afternoon’s entertainment. Come, Grandfather, speak; your old lady won’t begrudge us your tale!” “Well, if you insist, then go ahead; but it would be wiser to speak of other things, particularly so soon before nightfall,” the grandmother said.

  And so the grandfather began again, and all faces turned toward him expectantly: “I don’t know much more, but what I do know I will tell you; perhaps someone can take it as an example in these times of ours, and truly there are many whom it wouldn’t hurt to hear it.”

  * * *

  When the people realized that the spider was trapped and they no longer had to fear for their lives, it’s said they felt as if they dwelled in heaven with the good Lord and His beatitude all around them, and for a long time all was well. They worshipped God and shunned the devil, and the new knights who arrived to live in the castle had respect for God’s hand as well and governed mildly, helping their serfs prosper. And everyone beheld this house with reverence, almost as they would look on a church. At the beginning, to be sure, they would shudder when they passed, for, seeing the dreadful spider’s prison, they thought how easily it might break free again, how easily their sufferings might return and the devil exert his power. But soon they saw how much greater was the power of God, and out of gratitude to the mother who had died for all their sakes, they helped her children and kept up their farm without recompense until they were old enough to work it themselves. The knights were willing to grant them permission to build a new house so that they would not have to fear the spider or risk that some accident in the inhabited house might set it free, and they would have been helped by many willing neighbors who found themselves unable to vanquish their fear of the monstrous creature that had filled them with such horror. But the old grandmother was against it. She taught her grandchildren that the spider was bound here by God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit; as long as these three holy names still held sway in the house, and as long as all the eating and drinking at this table was done in their names, they would be safe from the spider held fast in its hole, and no accident would change anything. Here at this table, with the spider at their backs, they would never forget their need for God, nor His power; and so the spider would serve to remind them of God and be an agent of salvation, the devil’s plan notwithstanding. But if ever they were to turn their backs on God, even in a place one hundred hours’ journey away, the spider would find them, or the devil himself. The children understood this and remained in the house, growing up God-fearing, and God’s blessing was upon them.

  The little boy who had stood by his mother just as faithfully as she had stood by him grew up to be a splendid fellow beloved by God and man, and a favorite of the knights. For this reason he was blessed with worldly goods, but this never made him neglectful of God, nor was he stingy with his wealth; he helped others in their time of need, just as he hoped that help would come to him in his final hour; and where he himself was too weak to help, he was all the more powerful as a petitioner before God and men. He was blessed with a sagacious wife, and between them reig
ned a boundless peace, and so their children flourished, filled with the love of God, and both of them found gentle deaths at an advanced age. In piety and righteousness the family thrived.

  Indeed, God’s blessing lay upon the entire valley, and there was happiness in the fields and stables and peace among men. The people had taken their terrible lesson to heart, and now they clung to God; all they did was done in His name, and wherever one of them could help his neighbor, he did not fail to do so. The castle was no longer a source of harm but only of beneficence. Ever fewer knights lived there, for the battles they fought in heathen lands had grown more severe, and every hand that could hold a sword was needed; and those who remained behind in the castle were reminded daily by the great hall of the dead, where the spider had exercised its power over the knights as it had over the peasants, that God stood with the same power over every apostate, be he peasant or knight.

  And so many years came and went in happiness and blessings, and the valley was lauded above all others. The homes there were stately, their storehouses full, their coffers stocked with gold coins, their animals the finest far and wide, their daughters famed across the land, and their sons welcome everywhere they went. And this fame did not wither overnight like the gourd that shaded Jonah, but instead it was carried on from generation to generation; for from generation to generation, sons were as pious and honorable as their fathers. But just as the pear tree that is best nourished and watered and bears the most fruit can be struck by the worm that gnaws at its rind, making it wither and die, so it can happen that where the flood of God’s blessings flows most richly over men, the worm can creep its way in, causing men to puff themselves up and grow blind, seeing only God’s blessings and forgetting God, letting the riches they enjoy distract them from their provider, becoming like the Israelites who received God’s succor and then forgot Him, blinded by golden calves.