[Ill.u.s.tration: JEREMIAS GOTTHELF]

And when the master is done he is content, and the affair is settled to this extent, that neither the rebuked one nor his fellows can detect the least thing in the conduct of the master--no bitterness, nor vehemence, nor anything else. These reprimands are mostly of good effect by virtue of the prevailing fatherly tone, the calmness of their delivery, and their considerately chosen setting. Of the self-control and calm serenity in such houses one can scarcely form a conception.

When the master was almost through in the stable Uli came along, but in silence; they spoke no word to each other. When the voice from the kitchen door called them to breakfast the master went at once to the well-trough and washed his hands, but Uli stood long undecided. Perhaps he would not have come to breakfast at all if the mistress herself had not called him again. He was ashamed to show his face, which was black and blue and b.l.o.o.d.y. He did not know that it is better to be ashamed of a thing before it is done, than afterward. But this he was to learn.

At the table no remark was pa.s.sed, no question which might have concerned him; and the two maids did not even venture to show mocking faces, for the master and mistress wore serious ones. But when they had eaten and the maids were carrying out the dishes, and Uli, who had finished last, raised his elbows from the table and put his cap on his head again, showing that he had prayed and was going out, the master said, "A word with you," went into the sitting-room and shut the door behind them. The master sat down at the further end near the little table; Uli stood still by the door and a.s.sumed a sheepish expression which could as easily be transformed into defiance as into penitence. He was a tall, handsome lad, not yet twenty years old, powerful in build, but with something in his face that did not indicate innocence and moderation, and that by next year could make him look ten years older.

"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 n.o.body had paid for what he drank; it was n.o.body'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 gra.s.shoppers 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 G.o.d'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 G.o.d'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, n.o.body 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 n.o.body to care for? You'll be a vagabond, and then n.o.body 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.