Tobias Mindernickel

One of the streets which run rather steeply from Quay Alley up to the centre of the city is called the Grey Way. About the middle of this street, on the right hand as you come from the river, stands a house labelled No. 47, a narrow drab-coloured structure, in no way distinguished from its neighbours. There is a small shop on the ground-floor, in which one can buy rubber overshoes and cod-liver oil. On entering the hallway, which gives upon a courtyard in which cats are prowling about, one sees a narrow and worn wooden staircase, saturated with the inexpressible musty smells of poverty, leading to the upper stories. A carpenter lives on the left side of the first story, a midwife on the right. The second story harbours a cobbler on the left, and on the right a lady who begins to sing loudly as soon as steps are heard on the staircase. The flat on the third story to the left is empty; the one to the right is occupied by a man by the name of Mindernickel, who also bears the name of Tobias. There is a story about this man which must be told, because it is full of riddles, and shameful beyond belief.

The externals of Mindernickel are remarkable, odd, and ridiculous. For instance, one sees him when he takes a walk, supporting his lean figure on a cane as he proceeds along the street, always clothed in black, from head to foot. He wears an old-fashioned, bell-topped, rough tall hat, a tight-fitting frock-coat shiny with age, and equally shabby trousers, which are frayed out at the bottom and far too short, so that one sees the gores of his gaiters. It must, however, be said that these clothes of his are brushed in the most scrupulous manner. His lean neck appears the longer because it lifts itself from a low folding collar. His grey hair is combed back smoothly over the temples, and the broad brim of the tall hat shades a pale, smooth-shaven face with sunken cheeks, with inflamed eyes, which are seldom raised from the ground, and two deep furrows which run sorrowfully from the nostrils to the down-drawn corners of the mouth.

Mindernickel seldom goes forth, and there is a reason for this. As soon as he appears on the street, a great many children gather, follow him for quite a distance, laughing, mocking, and singing: “Ho, ho, Tobias!” and even pull him by the coattails, while the people come to the doors and enjoy the spectacle. He himself, however, goes on without defending himself, looking shyly about him, with high-drawn shoulders and extended head, like a man who hurries through a shower without an umbrella; and even though people laugh in his face, he greets with a humble politeness this or that person standing before their doors. Later, when the children remain behind, when he comes to parts where he is not known, and only a few turn to look at him, his behaviour does not greatly alter. He continues to peer about him anxiously and to hurry along in a hangdog manner, as though he felt a thousand mocking glances levelled at him, and when he lifts his eyes, shyly and irresolutely, then one observes the strange fact that he is unable to look any person straight and quietly in the eyes, or even regard an object with fixity. He appears to lack, however strangely this may sound, the natural superiority of the sense of perception with which a human being looks upon the world of phenomena about him; he appears to feel himself inferior to every phenomenon, and his uneasy eyes must seek the ground in the face of men and of things.

What are the circumstances attending this man, who is always alone and who appears to be unhappy in an uncommon degree? His forced middle-class dress, as well as a certain careful motion of the hand across the chin, seems to indicate that he does not in any circumstances wish to be reckoned as belonging to that class of population amid which he is living. God knows what tricks Fate has played upon him. He looks as though Life had laughed contemptuously as it gave him a blow full in the face. It is also possible that he has not suffered any great disasters at the hands of destiny and is simply not fitted to cope with it. The painful inferiority and idiotic aspect of his appearance give one the painful impression that nature has refused him the necessary measure of balance, power, and backbone which would enable him to exist with head erect.

After he has taken a walk, supported by his black cane, into town, he is wont to return to his home by the Grey Way, where the children receive him with jeers. He walks up the musty steps to his rooms, which are bare and poor. Only the bureau, an excellent piece of Empire furniture, with heavy metal handles, is fine and valuable. In front of the window, the view from which is hopelessly cut off by the tall sidewall of the neighbouring house, stands a flowerpot full of earth. Though nothing grows in this pot, Tobias Mindernickel occasionally goes up to it, regards it earnestly, and smells the bare soil within it. Adjacent to this room there is a small, dark bedroom. After he has entered, Tobias puts his tall hat and his cane upon the table, sits down on the green-covered sofa, which smells of dust, supports his chin in his hand, and looks with raised eyebrows at the floor. It seems that there is really nothing else on earth left for him to do.

As to Mindernickel’s character, it is very difficult to judge of this; the following incident seems to speak in his favour. One day as this singular man left the house, and as usual a swarm of children gathered and followed him with mocking cries and laughter, a boy of some ten years stumbled over the foot of another and pitched so heavily upon the pavement that the blood ran from his nose and forehead and he lay where he fell, crying. Tobias thereupon turned round, hurried up to the prostrate lad, bent over him, and began to express his compassion in a mild and trembling voice.

“You poor child,” said he, “did you hurt yourself? You are bleeding! See, the blood is running down his forehead! Oh, how sad to see you lying there that way! Of course it hurts him⁠—that’s why the poor little fellow is crying. Oh, I’m so sorry! It was your fault, but I’ll tie my handkerchief about your head. So, so! Now be brave, now come and get on your feet again!”

After he had spoken these words and tied his own handkerchief about the boy’s head, he raised him carefully to his feet and went on his way. His attitude and his face were, however, at this moment quite different from what they usually were. He walked upright and with a firm tread, and his chest expanded with deep breaths under the tight frock-coat; his eyes had grown larger, had become bright, and looked with assurance upon the world of men and things, while a trace of painful happiness lingered about his lips.

This incident had the effect for a time of somewhat diminishing the delight which the denizens of the Grey Way took in mockery. But after some time had elapsed, his surprising action was forgotten, and a great number of healthy, cheery, and cruel throats once more shouted after the stooped and indecisive man: “Ho, ho, Tobias!”

One sunny forenoon at eleven o’clock Mindernickel left the house and walked through the entire town out towards the Lerchenberg, a far-stretching hill, which constituted the most fashionable afternoon promenade of the place. The pleasant spring weather which prevailed at this time had, however, induced a number of pedestrians and owners of carriages to visit the promenade thus early. A man with a young hunting-dog on a leash stood under one of the trees in the avenue, and manifested to the passersby his intention of selling this dog. It was a small, yellow, and muscular animal, about four months old, with a black ring about one eye, and one black ear.

As Tobias noticed this at a distance of ten paces, he stood still, passed his hand across his chin several times, and looked thoughtfully at the man and the little dog with its tail wagging alertly. He then went on again, and, with the crook of his cane pressed against his mouth, thrice encircled the tree against which the man was leaning, then went up to him, and, while he kept his eye fixed upon the dog, asked in a low and hasty voice: “How much for the dog?”

“Ten marks,” said the man.

Tobias was silent for a moment and then repeated, indecisively: “Ten marks?”

“Yes,” said the man.

Tobias then drew forth a black leather purse from his pocket, took out a five-mark, a three- and a two-mark note, hastily handed this money to the seller of the dog, seized the leash, and with a shy and humble glance about him⁠—for a number of people had observed the sale and were laughing⁠—pulled the yelping and struggling animal along behind him. He fought the entire way, braced his forelegs against the ground, and looked up with anxious, questioning eye at his new master, who kept on tugging with silent energy, and so they came safely back through the town.

A vast commotion ensued among the street children of the Grey Way when Tobias appeared with the dog, but he took him in his arms, bent his head over him, and hurried through the mocking cries and the laughter, and the pulls at his coattails, up the stairs and into his room. Here he put down the dog, who was persistently whining, stroked him kindly, and said with condescension: “Well, well, you needn’t be afraid of me, you animal; that’s quite unnecessary.”

Hereupon he opened a drawer in the bureau and took out a plate with cooked meat and potatoes, and threw a portion of this to the dog, which at once stopped whining and swallowed the food with smacking chops and wagging tail.

“And your name is going to be Esau,” said Tobias; “do you understand? Esau. You will be able to remember that simple sound.” Then, pointing at the floor in front of him, he called in a tone of command: “Esau!”

The dog, no doubt in hopes of getting still more to eat, came at the call. Tobias patted his sides approvingly, and said: “Quite right, my friend; you deserve praise.”

He then stepped back a few paces, pointed at the floor again, and commanded anew: “Esau!”

And the animal, which had grown quite merry, again came bounding up and licked the boots of his master.

This trick Tobias repeated at least twelve or fourteen times, with unflagging pleasure in the command and its execution; but finally the dog appeared to be tired; he seemed anxious to rest and digest, and laid himself down upon the floor in the pretty and clever pose which hunting-dogs assume, with both of his long and delicately shaped forelegs stretched out close beside each other.

“Once more!” said Tobias. “Esau!”

But Esau turned his head aside and did not move.

“Esau!” cried Tobias, with loud, imperious voice, “you’ve got to come, even when you’re tired!”

But Esau laid his head upon his paws and did not come.

“See here!” said Tobias, and his voice was full of suppressed and terrible threats, “you obey, or you’ll discover that it’s not wise to irritate me!”

But the dog merely moved his tail a little.

Hereupon Mindernickel was seized by a vast, a disproportionate and furious anger. He seized his black cane, lifted Esau by the scruff of his neck, and began to rain blows upon the yelping little animal. Beside himself with furious indignation, he kept repeating in a terribly hissing voice: “So! you disobey? You dare to disobey me?”

Finally he threw the stick aside, put the whimpering dog on the floor, and began walking up and down with his hands behind his back, drawing deep breaths, while now and again he threw a disdainful and angry glance at Esau. After he had paced to and fro for a time, he stood still before the animal, which lay upon its back and moved its front legs in a beseeching fashion. Tobias folded his arms upon his breast and spoke with that dreadfully cold, hard look and voice with which Napoleon confronted the company which had lost its eagle in battle: “How have you behaved yourself, if I may ask?”

And the dog, already happy at this advance, crawled still closer, snuggled against the leg of his master, and looked up at him imploringly with his shining eyes.

For quite a while Tobias looked down upon the humiliated creature in silence, but then, as he began to feel the tender warmth of the body against his leg, he took Esau in his arms.

“Well, I will have pity on you,” he said; then, as the affectionate animal began to lick his face, his mood was suddenly changed to tenderness and sadness. He pressed the dog to his breast in a burst of poignant affection, his eyes filled with tears, and without finishing his exclamation he kept on repeating with suffocated voice: “See, you are my only one⁠—my only one⁠—” He then put Esau carefully upon the sofa, sat down beside him, and, chin in hand, regarded him with a mild and peaceful look.

Tobias Mindernickel now left the house still less frequently than before, for he felt no inclination to show himself publicly with Esau. He devoted his whole attention to the dog; yes, he occupied himself from morning till evening with nothing else than feeding him, wiping his eyes, ordering him about, scolding him, and talking with him in a most human manner. It was a fact, however, that Esau did not always conduct himself to his owner’s satisfaction. When Esau lay beside him on the sofa and, sleepy for lack of fresh air and exercise, looked at him with melancholy eyes, then Tobias was full of contentment; he sat there quietly in an attitude of great self-satisfaction and stroked Esau’s back in pity, while he remarked: “You are looking at me with a very pained expression, my poor friend? Yes, yes, the world is a sad place, you too have discovered that, young as you are!”

But when the animal, blind and wild with the instinct of play and the chase, raced about the room, tugged and tussled with an old felt slipper, sprang upon the chairs, and tumbled about in his exceeding joy, Tobias would then follow these doings from a distance with a puzzled, disapproving, and uncertain look and a smile that was sinister and full of vexation, until he would finally call the dog in a harsh tone and shout at him: “Stop that silliness! There is no reason for gambolling.”

It even happened one day that Esau escaped from the room, and raced down the steps to the street, where he began to chase a cat, to mouth the street manure, and, quite beside himself, to play about with the children. Then as Tobias appeared with painfully distorted features and was greeted by the applause and laughter of half the street, the sad thing occurred⁠—the dog bounded away from his master in long leaps. On that day Tobias thrashed him for a long time and with great bitterness.

One day⁠—the dog had now been his property for several weeks⁠—Tobias took a loaf of bread from the drawer of the bureau to feed Esau, and began to cut off small bits with the large, bone-handled knife which he was accustomed to use for this purpose; these bits he let fall upon the floor. The dog, however, carried away by hunger and silliness, leaped blindly into the air, ran the knife, which was clumsily held, into his right shoulder-blade, and then lay bleeding and twisting on the floor.

Tobias, appalled, threw everything aside and bent over the wounded creature. Then suddenly the expression of his features changed, and it is a fact that a gleam of relief and happiness lighted up his face. Carefully he carried the whimpering dog to the sofa, and it is difficult to describe with what devotion he began to tend the sick animal. He would not leave his side the whole day long; at night he let him sleep on his own bed; he washed and bandaged him, patted, comforted, and pitied him with indefatigable joy and solicitude.

“Does it hurt very much?” he would ask. “Yes, yes, my poor fellow, I know you suffer sorely. But never mind, we must bear it.” His face, as he spoke these words, was peaceful, sad, and yet content.

In that degree, however, in which Esau recovered his strength and became convalescent, the behaviour of Tobias became more restless and discontented. He now considered it right not to trouble himself any more about the wound, but merely to show his pity for the dog by words or by petting him. But the wound was pretty well cured; Esau’s constitution was excellent, and he soon began to run about the room once more, and one day, after he had lapped up a plate of milk and white bread, he leaped from the sofa completely cured, and went charging about the two rooms with joyous yappings and all the old abandon, to tug at the bedspread, to chase a potato to and fro, and to turn somersaults out of sheer fun.

Tobias stood at the window, near the flowerpot, and while one of his hands, protruding lean and skinny from his frayed sleeves, fumbled mechanically at the hair which he had stroked far back from his temples, his figure stood outlined strange and black against the grey wall of the neighbouring house. His face was pale and distorted by grief, as he immovably followed Esau’s boundings with a squinting, embarrassed, envious, and sinister look. Suddenly, however, he pulled himself together, went towards him, caught him, and lifted him slowly in his arms.

“My poor fellow!” he began in a pathetic tone⁠—but Esau, full of playfulness and not at all disposed to let himself be treated still further in this manner, snapped sportively at the hand that wished to stroke him, writhed out of the arms that held him, sprang to the floor, made a mischievous side-jump, yapped, and ran away gaily.

What now happened was something so inexplicable and infamous that I simply refuse to relate it in detail. Tobias Mindernickel stood there, leaning forward a little, with his arms hanging down at his sides. His lips were pressed together and his eyeballs trembled eerily in their sockets. And then, suddenly, with a kind of insane leap, he had seized the animal, a long, shining object flashed in his hand, and the dog, with a deep cut from the right shoulder to the chest, fell to the floor. He did not utter a sound, he simply fell upon his side, bleeding and panting.

The next moment he lay upon the sofa, and Tobias was kneeling in front of him, pressing a cloth upon the wound, and stammering: “My poor fellow! My poor, dear doggy! How sad everything is! How sad both of us are! Do you suffer? Yes, yes, I know you suffer⁠—how miserably you lie there before me! But I am with you, I am here beside you. I’ll comfort you! I’ll get my best handkerchief⁠—”

But Esau lay there with a rattling in his throat. His dulled and questioning eyes, full of a lack of understanding, innocence, and accusation, were directed upon his master⁠—and then he stretched out his legs a little and died.

Tobias remained motionless. He had laid his face upon Esau’s body and was weeping bitterly.