Read Traveler of the Century Online
Authors: Andrés Neuman
Traveler of the Century (24 page)
Nobody, she whispered, has ever spoken to me like that about love. And I, he whispered, have never met anyone who cared to listen.
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Beyond the enclosed fields, towards the empty south-east, amid dozens of tired windmills, where the River Nulte's waters grew more turbid, the red chimneys of Wandernburg's textile mill loomed. Even before sunrise, the boilers had stirred and the noises of the mill had started upâthe sloshing of the wool-rinsing machines, the cracking of the carders, the whirring of the Spinning Marys, the tapping of the meters, the rumble of coal in Steaming Eleanor's belly.
Lamberg wiped his brow with his forearm. His breath mingled with the steam from the machine. He was used to rising at the crack of dawn, the arduousness of his job didn't bother him, he had learnt to breathe with his mouth shut. But he couldn't bear the effect on his eyes. They itched like the devil; he could
feel the smuts circulating under his eyelids, although he knew rubbing them would only make it worse. Sometimes, while he was watching Steaming Eleanor's engines from his platform, Lamberg would fantasise about gouging his eyes out. Whenever this urge came over him, he would close his eyelids, grit his teeth and put more effort in each of his gestures. Lamberg's smooth, bulging right arm would pull levers and turn taps.
feel the smuts circulating under his eyelids, although he knew rubbing them would only make it worse. Sometimes, while he was watching Steaming Eleanor's engines from his platform, Lamberg would fantasise about gouging his eyes out. Whenever this urge came over him, he would close his eyelids, grit his teeth and put more effort in each of his gestures. Lamberg's smooth, bulging right arm would pull levers and turn taps.
Lamberg! yelled Foreman Körten. Have you finished with that? Not yet! Lamberg cried out, leaning over the platform, ten more minutes! Foreman Körten muttered and moved on between the tanks of hot water, soapy bleach, potash and bicarbonate, his hair blowing about in the blasts of air drying the tufts of wrung wool, stopping next to the wool carder who oversaw the combs. Günter! said the foreman, How much fine have we got? As you can see, Günter replied, no more than a couple of pounds for every three or four of half-blood, five or six of quarter-blood, not to mention a lot more low-quarter. It's not good enough! the foreman complained. How long is it since you checked the combs? I check them every morning, sir, replied Günter. That's what they all say, grunted the foreman, and this is the result!
Lamberg opened and closed his eyes as if he were trying to trap something with his eyelids. He yelled at the stoker to stop. He halted the inductor, unblocked the hubs, filled the mixers, straightened the funnels and belts, shouted again at the stoker, then started up Steaming Eleanor's pump. The sound, that rushing noise which echoed in Lamberg's ears each night before he fell asleep, crescendoed until it took off. The vapour condensed in the air. The cylinders heated up. The pump whistled and the wheels began turning until they reached full speed. Lamberg contemplated the machine, feeling as though he were watching the workings of his own body. The valves opened, the bobbins rattled, the pistons shunted, the tubes juddered,
the regulator roared, the cogs creaked, the wheels spun round.
the regulator roared, the cogs creaked, the wheels spun round.
The machine operators came down and formed a circle. The circle was made up of men, women and children. It was lunchtime, yet no one was eating. Except for the children, who munched their bread and cold sausage. They were all silent, heads pointing towards the same place in the midst of the circle, where one of the workers was speaking in hushed tones and gesticulating furiously. Lamberg listened, nodded and pressed his eyelids together. Fellow workers! declared the man in the middle. We must act tomorrow, we can wait no longer. The situation will never change unless we use force. The bosses have their methods, and we have ours. In England, comrades, machines have been wrecked, mills burned to the ground. We propose more peaceful means, at least for the time being. But we mustn't let ourselves be bullied. There are men working here who were promised contracts seven years ago. There are children of men working here who are paid in food. And wives who work a full day and receive a quarter day's wage instead of half. The delegates have discussed this at the assembly and we carried the vote, but now we want to hear from our comrades. Every man and woman here has a voice. There are five minutes left before the return to work. We'll open the session to objections and criticisms and after that we'll put the measure to the vote. Agreed? Good. We're all agreed. Now is the time to speak up. Do we strike tomorrow or not? No objections, criticisms or questions? Nothing?
Come in, Flamberg, said Herr Gelding. Come in, take a seat. Let's see if you and I can reach an agreement. And I'm sure we will reach an agreement. I'll go straight to the point, because neither of us like to waste time, do we Flamberg? You're aware that yesterday, and I'm not saying you had any part in it, there was an attempt, let's call it that, an attempt to strike at the mill. That is, in plain language, an attempt on the part of some workers to abandon their posts. Isn't that so? Good. And you must
be aware that Foreman Körten was verbally and even physically threatened. You must also know that the foreman attempted to reason with the rebellious employees, isn't that so, Flamberg? To persuade them to go back to their posts, in exchange for overlooking the disturbing incident. And you know that were it not for the intervention of the police, we would be having this discussion at Foreman Körten's funeral. Good. My first thought, then, is this, Flamberg. Notwithstanding the arduous nature of the work, which no one denies has its problems, like all work, have you ever seen an employee beaten or threatened in this mill, of which I'm proud to be the owner? You needn't be afraid to answer. Have you ever witnessed such a thing? Good. As you can see I'm not even considering this from my position of authority as the owner, but rather from one of pure and simple logic. Now tell me, do you think that, apart from these crimes of violence, which will be duly dealt with by the law, do you believe that irresponsibly abandoning one's post is any way to obtain concessions from the company, from me, or for that matter that from Foreman Körten? Excellent. I can see you're no fool. I thought as much, which is why I summoned you, Flamberg. I like an observant employee. And you, Flamberg, are clearly observant. My next question, Flamberg, for as you see I only summoned you to ask you some questions, is simply thisâdo you believe in solving problems through dialogue? Tell me, do you? Of course you do! So do I, Flamberg, so do I. And it is precisely because a handful of sensible employees knew how to engage in dialogue like civilised people instead of behaving like animals that the mill has agreed to these wage increases and a week's annual holiday. Now, pay close attention, Flamberg. If, as you have seen, through civilised dialogue we have achieved these improvements for our employees, for employees like you who do an honest job, and who now receive a bigger wage and more time off, in the midst of an industrial
boom, Flamberg!âif all that has been achieved through dialogue and with due respect to the mill authorities, don't you think the troublemakers deserve to be punished, not by me, not even by Foreman Körten, but by their fellow employees, whose conditions have improved thanks to the very dialogue these troublemakers were attempting to prevent? Think about it. I'm not here to think for you. Who was harming whom? Let's be clear. And it isn't, wait, let me finish my question, it isn't only the employees and the labourers who would have lost out because of this silly mutiny, oh Flamberg! Let's open our eyes! If this business does well, if our mill thrives, then the families of all its employees will eat. And so will the swarms of children. Do you think I like to see them working the machines, Flamberg? No, neither you nor I like to see them working the machines. But what happens is their mothers come to me begging, insisting, weeping. And I agree to help them, because a mother's love sways us more than any other consideration. I don't know about you, you're still young, but, myself, I'm a family man. And what of the peasants, Flamberg? What will become of them if the wool is not worked on? To whom will they sell it? And the tenant farmers? And the landowners? Do you see that by insisting on protecting two or three rebels, we are putting the lives of hundreds and hundreds of families at risk, what am I saying, those of an entire city? Do you see that? Thousands of people's lives in our hands, Flamberg! The mere thought is enough to make one shudder, isn't it? But in order that our mill thrive and we can meet all these people's needs, you will appreciate that a boss needs trustworthy employees, responsible employees like you, and that he must rid himself of those who do not perform their duties rigorously. Put yourself in my shoes, any boss has the right to assume that today's troublemakers and idlers will endanger the future of the company. And this cannot be allowed. Which is why, Flamberg, if I knew exactly who these people
were who had breached our rules, I would be able to be as just as I would like and punish only the guilty ones. But if I don't know who they are, Flamberg, and I'm no mind readerâcan you read minds, Flamberg? No, neither can Iâwell, if I don't know who they are, then I may have to commit an injustice by dismissing one or more employees, or perhaps everyone, simply in order to be sure of dismissing the leaders of yesterday's mutiny. Do you imagine I want that? I don't want that. Do you want that? You don't either. Once more we are in agreement. And so, I put it to you, and this is my last question, wouldn't it be simpler, far simpler, to remove the two or three rotten apples from the barrel and carry on with the harvest? Or should the innocent pay for the sins of the guilty? Have you read Genesis, Flamberg? I'm glad we had this little chat.
be aware that Foreman Körten was verbally and even physically threatened. You must also know that the foreman attempted to reason with the rebellious employees, isn't that so, Flamberg? To persuade them to go back to their posts, in exchange for overlooking the disturbing incident. And you know that were it not for the intervention of the police, we would be having this discussion at Foreman Körten's funeral. Good. My first thought, then, is this, Flamberg. Notwithstanding the arduous nature of the work, which no one denies has its problems, like all work, have you ever seen an employee beaten or threatened in this mill, of which I'm proud to be the owner? You needn't be afraid to answer. Have you ever witnessed such a thing? Good. As you can see I'm not even considering this from my position of authority as the owner, but rather from one of pure and simple logic. Now tell me, do you think that, apart from these crimes of violence, which will be duly dealt with by the law, do you believe that irresponsibly abandoning one's post is any way to obtain concessions from the company, from me, or for that matter that from Foreman Körten? Excellent. I can see you're no fool. I thought as much, which is why I summoned you, Flamberg. I like an observant employee. And you, Flamberg, are clearly observant. My next question, Flamberg, for as you see I only summoned you to ask you some questions, is simply thisâdo you believe in solving problems through dialogue? Tell me, do you? Of course you do! So do I, Flamberg, so do I. And it is precisely because a handful of sensible employees knew how to engage in dialogue like civilised people instead of behaving like animals that the mill has agreed to these wage increases and a week's annual holiday. Now, pay close attention, Flamberg. If, as you have seen, through civilised dialogue we have achieved these improvements for our employees, for employees like you who do an honest job, and who now receive a bigger wage and more time off, in the midst of an industrial
boom, Flamberg!âif all that has been achieved through dialogue and with due respect to the mill authorities, don't you think the troublemakers deserve to be punished, not by me, not even by Foreman Körten, but by their fellow employees, whose conditions have improved thanks to the very dialogue these troublemakers were attempting to prevent? Think about it. I'm not here to think for you. Who was harming whom? Let's be clear. And it isn't, wait, let me finish my question, it isn't only the employees and the labourers who would have lost out because of this silly mutiny, oh Flamberg! Let's open our eyes! If this business does well, if our mill thrives, then the families of all its employees will eat. And so will the swarms of children. Do you think I like to see them working the machines, Flamberg? No, neither you nor I like to see them working the machines. But what happens is their mothers come to me begging, insisting, weeping. And I agree to help them, because a mother's love sways us more than any other consideration. I don't know about you, you're still young, but, myself, I'm a family man. And what of the peasants, Flamberg? What will become of them if the wool is not worked on? To whom will they sell it? And the tenant farmers? And the landowners? Do you see that by insisting on protecting two or three rebels, we are putting the lives of hundreds and hundreds of families at risk, what am I saying, those of an entire city? Do you see that? Thousands of people's lives in our hands, Flamberg! The mere thought is enough to make one shudder, isn't it? But in order that our mill thrive and we can meet all these people's needs, you will appreciate that a boss needs trustworthy employees, responsible employees like you, and that he must rid himself of those who do not perform their duties rigorously. Put yourself in my shoes, any boss has the right to assume that today's troublemakers and idlers will endanger the future of the company. And this cannot be allowed. Which is why, Flamberg, if I knew exactly who these people
were who had breached our rules, I would be able to be as just as I would like and punish only the guilty ones. But if I don't know who they are, Flamberg, and I'm no mind readerâcan you read minds, Flamberg? No, neither can Iâwell, if I don't know who they are, then I may have to commit an injustice by dismissing one or more employees, or perhaps everyone, simply in order to be sure of dismissing the leaders of yesterday's mutiny. Do you imagine I want that? I don't want that. Do you want that? You don't either. Once more we are in agreement. And so, I put it to you, and this is my last question, wouldn't it be simpler, far simpler, to remove the two or three rotten apples from the barrel and carry on with the harvest? Or should the innocent pay for the sins of the guilty? Have you read Genesis, Flamberg? I'm glad we had this little chat.
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Time to go home, everyone! The church bell has chimed eight, watch over your fire and your lamps, praise be to God! All praise!
The nightwatchman's lantern hovers for a moment at the entrance to Wool Alley, crosses from left to right and carries on down Jesus Lane. Then the masked figure's brimmed hat appears once more and he continues on his way, like an evil shadow emerging from the wall. Farther ahead, different, more delicate footsteps are heading towards Prayer Street and the lights of the city centre. The masked figure quickens his pace without breaking into a run. The number of paving stones between his resolute steps and the more delicate ones is diminishing. The mud on the street is soft from the afternoon rain. Two, now three, paving stones nearer. Four paving stones closer and the masked figure can make out the folds of his victim's robeâexcellent attire for a party, but not for running. An occasional street lamp lights up a small pair of hands clasping the edges of the dress, trying to lift it off the ground. Five, six paving stones closer and now they are both running. The victim leaps as though over puddles, she
is fleeing with a desperate elegance she now curses, forced on her by the corsets and crinoline petticoats beneath her ample skirts. The masked figure, shoulders moving rhythmically, is gaining on his victim without needing to take his hands out of his pockets. In his pockets is a fine pair of gloves, a knife and a piece of rope. The young girl cries for help, no nightwatchman in the surrounding streets will hear her cry after the eight o'clock round. But a passer-by, especially in spring, might. The masked figure is aware of this, and on the final stretch, only a few paving stones away from her, he reaches out a long arm. Almost within his grasp, the young girl turns and sees the mask.
The nightwatchman's lantern hovers for a moment at the entrance to Wool Alley, crosses from left to right and carries on down Jesus Lane. Then the masked figure's brimmed hat appears once more and he continues on his way, like an evil shadow emerging from the wall. Farther ahead, different, more delicate footsteps are heading towards Prayer Street and the lights of the city centre. The masked figure quickens his pace without breaking into a run. The number of paving stones between his resolute steps and the more delicate ones is diminishing. The mud on the street is soft from the afternoon rain. Two, now three, paving stones nearer. Four paving stones closer and the masked figure can make out the folds of his victim's robeâexcellent attire for a party, but not for running. An occasional street lamp lights up a small pair of hands clasping the edges of the dress, trying to lift it off the ground. Five, six paving stones closer and now they are both running. The victim leaps as though over puddles, she
is fleeing with a desperate elegance she now curses, forced on her by the corsets and crinoline petticoats beneath her ample skirts. The masked figure, shoulders moving rhythmically, is gaining on his victim without needing to take his hands out of his pockets. In his pockets is a fine pair of gloves, a knife and a piece of rope. The young girl cries for help, no nightwatchman in the surrounding streets will hear her cry after the eight o'clock round. But a passer-by, especially in spring, might. The masked figure is aware of this, and on the final stretch, only a few paving stones away from her, he reaches out a long arm. Almost within his grasp, the young girl turns and sees the mask.
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Hey, old man, take a look at this toad, said Reichardt. The organ grinder glanced over to where Reichardt was pointing at an enormous toad. It had a puffed-up throat, sagging gullet and huge back legs. The slimy animal looks like a green cow, said Reichardt. Alerted by the two men's gestures, Franz immediately went over and stood motionless in front of the toad. The toad croaked, Franz's hind legs tensed, and Reichardt and the organ grinder burst out laughing. Are you feeling peckish, old man? asked Reichardt. A little, answered the organ grinder, I didn't have any lunch. Reichardt pressed his toothless mouth close to the organ grinder's ear: Why don't we roast it? he said. The organ grinder looked at him aghast, then licked his lips. Have you any more firewood? Reichardt asked. Franz gave a growl that was more wary than aggressive. The toad throbbed, alert as a sumo wrestler.
About time, lads! Reichardt cried as he saw Hans and Ãlvaro arrive carrying a cheese, two big loaves of bread and two bottles wrapped in brown paper. They said hello and sat down next to Lamberg, who was relaxing on his back, hands clasped behind his neck. We're late, Hans said grinning, because Ãlvaro gets very talkative when he's in a tavern. We're late, Ãlvaro parried,
knocking Hans's beret off, because his lordship doesn't possess a watch. Sorry, organ grinder, said Hans, what's that smell? Toad's turd! Reichardt replied, slicing into the cheese. What? said Ãlvaro, thinking he had misheard Reichardt's gruff voice. And you'll be next, said Reichardt, pointing the knife threateningly at Franz. The dog flattened its ears and scurried over to the organ grinder's side for protection.
knocking Hans's beret off, because his lordship doesn't possess a watch. Sorry, organ grinder, said Hans, what's that smell? Toad's turd! Reichardt replied, slicing into the cheese. What? said Ãlvaro, thinking he had misheard Reichardt's gruff voice. And you'll be next, said Reichardt, pointing the knife threateningly at Franz. The dog flattened its ears and scurried over to the organ grinder's side for protection.
The bottles in the grass shone in the evening sun. A warm breeze stirred the fragrances of the pinewoods. The River Nulte tinkled as it raced along. Lamberg had been more talkative than usual. So, Hans asked, did the police break up the strike? No, no, replied Lamberg, they came later, the strike had already ended. (Who ended it? asked Hans.) I don't know, I don't know really, actually not everyone was sure of following it through, some only wanted a few days' holiday and a better wage, well, we all wanted that. (And what about those who attacked the foreman? said Hans.) That was only a small group, mostly the strike organisers. (But you supported the strike, didn't you? said Hans.) Yes, well, sort of. (That Körten is a bastard! said Reichardt. You should have thumped him as well!) I don't know, suddenly we got scared, because that wasn't the plan, and then the police arrived. (But why did the strike stop before they arrived? asked Hans.) Oh, I think a few of the strikers made an agreement. (With Gelding?, Ãlvaro asked. Behind the delegates' backs?) Possibly, I don't really know, I think they went to the boss's office to speak to him and when they came out again they'd reached an agreement about the wages. It was around that time the police arrived. Then we left and ⦠(I'm sorry, Ãlvaro interrupted, but what happened to the delegates?) The delegates? Well, they were dismissed, they were all dismissed. (And didn't anyone stand up for them? said Ãlvaro.) Yes, of course, we tried, but it was impossible. It was a case of them or us. And there were only five of them, and us was everyone
else at the mill, do you see? That's what happened. That's all I know. No one likes anyone being dismissed.
else at the mill, do you see? That's what happened. That's all I know. No one likes anyone being dismissed.
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