Three Stories/Poldik the Scavenger/Chapter 5

by Vítězslav Hálek

 

CHAPTER V.

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OLDIK’S horses found themselves best off while the passion of their master for Malka was on the increase until it reached its climacteric.

In those days Poldik was glad to draw rein from time to time, and took care of his horses both in the streets and at home, in order that he might be able to boast of them as his property, and mainly in order that he might jog along with them when Malka sat beside him in his cart. At that time Poldik’s horses were on the high road to transfiguration. Their ribs began to be cased in a light coating of flesh, their ears sometimes pricked, and their shoes made a deeper dint upon the ground. And Poldik’s comrades when they met him, looked at him with a pair of eyes in which were legible the words “Poldik is becoming quite a skilful groom.”

Here we must note in passing that Poldik occasionally took to horse doctoring, and that when he took pains with the horses, he generally succeeded.

Thus, for example. If some scavenger’s jade broke down, and its master half determined to take it to the knacker’s yard, it still occurred to him, “Suppose I let Poldik try his hand with her.” From Poldik’s then two paths led, either the jade was converted into a passable mare, in which case the owner reclaimed his property; or she failed to mend, and the knacker came for her. Poldik generally “mended” his horses at daybreak or evening, when his day’s work was over; and on Sunday, when he had the whole day to himself, he led out his troop into the courtyard in order to make up his mind what further he should do with them.

That troop of horses was a wonderful spectacle, and would have suited Falstaff’s ragged battalion to a nicety, if, that is to say, it had been required to turn his ragged infantry into cavalry of the same kidney. One horse would, perhaps, be altogether swaddled in blankets, another would have all one side encrusted with a kind of tetter or scab, another only the shoulders thus encrusted, a third only its fore feet, another only one foot. It was just as if a sculptor had formed model horses of clay and these horses had been transformed into living samples: it was hard to decide whether there was more clay or more horseflesh as yet in their composition.

This Sunday parade in the courtyard attracted plenty of spectators. First came the owners of the animals whose lives and, perhaps, sufferings Poldik prolonged after them came plenty of a second public the true spectators. Poldik paraded his invalids in the court yard, just as a circus master parades his trained stud in the arena. It must not be supposed that these convalescents performed, at Poldik’s bidding, wonders comparable with the wondrous feats of strength performed in the arena by their fellows of the circus. But still, relatively, they performed wonders, and perhaps in this respect even much greater ones. For, if in the previous week a horse had scarcely limped hither, and if, the week after, that is on the second Sunday’s parade, it could go a certain pace, sometimes at a brisk pace, although you could still see on which foot it limped, it had in that week relatively done a great deal; so much so that even then it found a public who were disposed to admire its agility.

But this occupation of Poldik’s was quite a secondary one. Like a true artist, he only devoted himself to it when the fit was on him. And thus also it came to pass that the owner of some jade might lead her to Poldik, but afterwards drive her off again straight to the knacker’s yard, and for this reason—because Poldik would not receive the horse. “I don’t take in horses” he would say. “Pray who would think of taking in horses to cure.” And sometimes, on the other hand, he received every horse that came, paraded them about the courtyard to see what progress they were making, and when they were cured despatched them to their respective masters.

There were golden times in store for Poldik’s horses after Malka had broken faith with him. That spurt of briskness which they had found so tiresome was soon expended—and from horses they quickly sank again into jades. Poldik had no longer anyone to whom he could boast of them, and he was angry with himself for ever having been so possessed and for having given himself so much trouble with them. They fell once more into their old measured pacing along the streets of Prague, and nothing again aroused them from their ordinary shambling walk.

But after Malka and Francis were espoused with so much pomp and ceremony, Poldik could not any longer bear to see his horses and cart. He had sufficiently clear insight to perceive what an unequal contest he had waged as a scavenger with Francis the wherryman. Nor was it the fault of his intellect that he had lost, but of the common-place loutish-ness with which he was saturated through and through. It appeared to him that there was nothing more despicable than his own employment; at all events he himself despised it utterly; and at that time if he could have driven off his cart and the horses along with it on to some red hot rock, so that no vestige of them might remain, he would have done it without a moment’s reflection.

At that time he lost all hold on realities and certainty. His horses must have been in a maze of difficulties. He began according to entirely different methods, and anyone who had known his previous methods must have admitted that the new methods were none at all. What cared he now for twenty paces? What cared he now at what point he said “he!” “heesta!” at what point he said “Cl” “Cl,” at what point he shouted “Whoa up,” when he was to belabour them with the whip and when he was to swear? He mixed and tangled all his vocabulary in careless confusion, swore where he ought to have said “heesta!” flogged where he ought to have sworn, and said “Cl” where the horses expected the lash. Now they never dared to halt of their own accord, for then he let fly at them all at once a volley of all the abusive epithets which he had in his pate, just as when wind, thunder, and raindrops come down pell mell together. The horses now walked past the alehouse and the tobacconist and the fruit stall and the other noteworthy snuggeries in those quarters as though they were demented—they had unlearned the habit of halting and were only thankful when they had got through the day with a whole skin.

Hence, once more the connoisseur and the tyro in horseflesh might count their ribs and could say from their coat of hair how far the straps were to blame and how far the collar was at fault. Perhaps Poldik did not in the least perceive whither his horses were fast hastening, and that he might have driven them off any day to the knacker’s yard.

Once, however, an acquaintance gave him a hint about the matter. Going past Poldik he halted and said with slow precision, “They are no longer what they were!”

Poldik himself looked at them and almost started aghast. “They are no longer what they were” said he to himself, and here he began to pity the horses from his heart.

If Poldik had not been Poldik he would have led them home to his own stable, but now he began to consider whether he might not as well take them to the knacker’s. And yet to do so seemed to him like smiting his own self and his own existence.

In the end, he led them to his own stable, ceased to be a scavenger and began business as a stableman. As soon as the news spread that Poldik had again taken to converting unsound horses into sound ones he had visitors from morning till evening, bringing him patients from all quarters, and Poldik received them so long as he had any stall room left. At that time if he had thrown himself energetically into his business, he might have made quite a fortune, and yet Poldik did not feel himself a happy man. It was a business which so completely ran counter to all his previous habits and so changed his step, his gait, and all his modes of life that he was long in doubt whether he would not again quit it and once more throw in his lot with the scavengers.

But after all he remained constant to his new profession; for having after no long time converted his own screws into decent horses he happened to sell them speedily and well and it was just as if he had bartered his own soul. Rather than accustom himself to a new pair of horses and teach them to learn his habits, he would have quitted this tedious life below; and to think, too, that he would have to drive down to the quay and among the wherrymen, and that Francis with Malka perhaps by his side would be there, and that he would see the sneer upon their faces. When he thought of all this he was glad that he need go no longer to the quay, and hereupon, like a doctor, he went his rounds, visited all his patients, felt himself a new man, and was at peace.

We have already said that Poldik only practised his horse doctoring when he felt inclined. But now this inclination continued unchecked, and, consequently, he had almost become a real professional. By the end of the year, or at most two summers, he had amassed a considerable sum of money, so that no scavenger in the town could compare with him. Poldik, had he been a scavenger all his life, would never have attained so independent a position.

Then when his affairs began to succeed beyond his fondest expectation, they began also to be a burden to him; wherever he looked he saw the divine benediction; but with it all to be alone in the world was a grievous trial to him.

Here, no doubt, the inexperienced reader will be inclined to exclaim, “Ah, ha! the writer is trying to find a new bride for him.” He is not doing so my dear reader—all thoughts of wedlock Poldik had now banished from his mind for ever. He would rather have stabbed himself with the first knife which came to his hand than have said again to any female, “When shall we two pair off.” From that side he was as completely cured as those horses of his which he possessed no longer; and if a new saint had been required for the calendar, whose sole qualification was to be that he now never even looked at a woman’s form—Poldik might have applied for the place and have been canonized forthwith.

But a new and somewhat curious idea took possession of him, in consequence of which he ceased to feel lonely and deserted. This same idea was to beg from their parents the boys and children of scavengers. When he knew that a scavenger had a son who already began to trot along beside the horses, Poldik went to the father and said, “What do you mean your son to be?”

If the scavenger said, “What should I mean him to be? He will be a scavenger.” “Good,” said Poldik, “but you might entrust him to me for a time in order that he may learn to understand horses.”

And he got the boy; for what scavenger would have refused to have his son taught such an excellent science as was Poldik’s science. And as soon as Poldik got him, he said to himself, “Won!”

And, to be sure, he sedulously developed in every boy a knowledge of horses and the proper treatment of them. But none the less, and perhaps mainly, he developed a disgust of scavenging and in place of it instilled into these boys a passion for the business of wherrying sand. That was his evangelium. When they were seated in the stable he would say to the boy, “Do you still want to be a scavenger?”

“I do not want, but I must be one,” said the boy. “I must! there is no such thing as must. Must take to the worst trade in the world! To drive continually along the same road among all the slatterns and be the laughing-stock of everybody. They look at your horses—and laugh; they look at yourself and laugh. The horse is a sorry jade—you are the same—all the spavined cattle belonging to a scavenger’s cart are sorry jades. And whenever you want to marry you will find that no one will care to give you his daughter. They had rather yoke her to your cart; that’s what they’ll say. But a wherryman! faith! that is something quite different. You spin along over the water and the whole world smiles upon you. Be a wherryman!”

And the following day he again enquired, “Do you still want to be a scavenger?” “What’s the good of asking me,” said the boy, “I had much rather be a wherryman, but I have no boat, and my parents are not likely to give me one. “Oh! ho! the boat is the difficulty, is it? Well I will buy thee a boat and all else that thou requirest.”

Then he asked again the third day, “Do you still want to be a scavenger?” “No; if I can get a boat I will not be anything but a wherryman.

“So you shall get one; but if you should ever cease to be a wherryman the boat is mine.” “And who would cease to be a wherryman while he had a boat?”

After this, Poldik told the parents that their boy had learnt to understand horses wonderfully soon. The boy then added that he was going on the water to wherry sand, and when Poldik explained the why and the wherefore he generally also obtained the consent of the parents.

And so then on the following day, Poldik led his young charge among the wherrymen, and he felt as though he was leading him to a wedding. He walked with quite a youthful step, his eyes sparkled, his face sparkled, his words sparkled. He chose his words as easily as though he were selecting twenty kreutzer pieces from ordinary kreutzers, and it was evident that he was contented with those which he had chosen. And when the boy got his boat and punted about in it, and Poldik saw his face beam with pleasure, the tears came into his own eyes and he could have sung for joy. His heart beat fast, his feet made a few small skips, and he said as if he shared the boy’s joyous sense of freedom, “The world will smile upon thee wherever thou lookest upon it. And thou wilt easily find some Malka and no one will look down upon thee. I have rescued a soul from thy clutches thou foul trade of the scavenger!”

Immediately after this Poldik sought another soul to rescue from the foul trade of scavenging, and did with him to a hair as he had done with his predecessor. He had already so many of these lads on the water that go which way he would for a walk, young wherrymen sprang to meet him and introduced themselves to him as to a father, so that sometimes he was heard to mutter to himself, “I think I must be a wherryman myself when I have so many children at the trade.”