Robert Walser - The Tanners

“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.