The Poor Man of Toggenburg - Autobiography of Ulrich Bräker

I: My dear Captain, I don't know how it is here. But in our part of the world earning money at the cotton trade is of great benefit to us. Scarcely the half of our people own land, and the others earn their livings by spinning and weaving. What would the poor souls do if they couldn't do that?

Capt: What did they do before the blasted stuff came in? Hey, I'll tell you, there were other people, richer farmers and not so many packs of beggars. Let any man say what he likes: the dirty cotton trade's like a foul midden that has bred and born all that shit, that creeping proud pack of beggars. But I can well see that you are one of those mucky cotton men. I don't want to lose my temper over it.

I: I should be sorry if you lost your temper. There's a lot to be said on the subject, both for and against, depending how you see it. Better talk of something else. No doubt you have much property, Captain, many cattle and so on.

Capt: Yes, more than I have hands to work. The blasted fellows in this village here are too lazy and won't be satisfied no matter how much food and wages you give them. Apropos, when you meet with people, what are they saying about the French, about the war, what are they saying in Zürich? And where you live, do they know anything of the French?

I: Oh yes, we read newspapers just as people in other places do, from Zürich, Schaffhausen, Konstanz, Augsburg, Strasburg and so on. And then we have political parties, just as in Zürich and everywhere else: Aristocrats, Democrats, Pro-French and Pro-Emperor, that's the general talk these days, wherever you go.

Capt: And where do you stand? Which party do you hold with, hey - German or French?

I: Your pardon, Captain, but I'm a Swiss too, and if I have always thought myself lucky to be one, so these days I think myself twice as lucky. So I'm neutral and think it's wonderfully lucky that our country keeps its neutrality and hasn't been dragged into war. And so I think that people in all discourse, speech and conversation should preserve more neutrality and not take sides as heatedly as I so often hear them doing.

Capt: Hey, so you're a fence-sitter, neither warm nor cold. Hey, if those blasted fellows had only come to Switzerland, they would have been clobbered, the bloody dogs, the French lads, who know nothing except how to murder and rob and steal! Hey, that mob of prentice thieves wants freedom and equality. Yes, indeed, the blasted prentice thieves would dearly like to make beggars of well-to-do people who have earned their property by their skill and hard work, or even murder them and shove their possessions in a sack.

So reasoned the Captain and hit out ferociously at the French. He was a small man of between fifty and sixty years of age. But small as he was, he had a right roaring and penetrating voice, just like an officer. I told him about the writings of the major in Holland

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who amongst other things had given orders that everyone must put on mourning every day, and be prepared every day, ready to be hacked to pieces by the

canaille

, and so on. He's a worthless dog, growled my Captain, it serves him right. Why don't the lousy fellows put up more of a fight?

Meanwhile I had emptied my glass of cider, and a miserable tipple it was, and asked for another dram of wine. That was not much better. I almost had to throw up. I thought: ha, no wonder the man can't get any workmen if this is the stuff he gives them. I asked yet again for a glass of brandy. I have brandy, said he - but I made it for myself, not to give out. Yes, I dare say, said I, but I feel damned unwell. I have had nothing warm to eat and then drunk new cider and wine. A little brandy would do a lot of good. I'll pay you whatever you like. Well, then he