The burden of help

A man has been attacked by robbers and is, now, the one who is in a situation to need help. (Excerpt from �On Beauty� by Friedrich Schiller) * This title has been given by the translator to this excerpt

THE BURDEN OF HELP*

(Excerpt from “On Beauty” by Friedrich Schiller)

 

A man was attacked by robbers who deprived him of his clothes and have left him wounded on the road in the middle of a biting cold day. A traveller passed by to whom this latter complained about his condition and asked for help. “I have compassion for you” answered this one, touched by the sight of his condition, “and I will voluntarily give you whatever I can. Just do not ask me any further help for the sight of your misery affects me. In this road are passing people, please give them this purse and they will help you.”

 

“Well intentioned” said the wounded; “however, one must also be able to bear suffering when human duty requires it. Granting me your purse is worth less than a little control over your weakened sense.” How should we judge this action? Not useful, not moral, not generous, not beautiful. It was just passionate, just well meaning, based on affective ground.

A second traveller shows up, to whom the wounded renews his request. To this second traveller is his money very attractive and hence, would the latter like very much to fulfil his human duty. “I sacrifice the gain of a Gulden” he said, “when I spend my time with you. Should you give me as much with your money as I would otherwise sacrifice, then, I shall put you on my shoulders and bring you to a cloister which is only an hour walk away from here.”

“A smart proposition” replied the other. “However, one must recognize that your kindness does not give a high opinion of you. I see coming, there, a horse rider who will provide me for free the help which is obtainable from you for only a Gulden.” How should we judge, now, this action? Not well meaning, not dutiful, not generous, not beautiful. It was just useful.

The third traveller was halted by the wounded and this one repeated the account of his misfortune. Thoughtful and in conflict with himself, the traveller stood there, after the wounded has finished his story. “It will be very difficult for me” he says, finally, “to get rid of my mantle which is the only protection for my aching body and to leave you my horse, as my forces are exhausted. However, duty commands me to serve you. Climb on my horse and cover yourself with my mantle, hence, I will lead you to where help can be found.”

“I thank you, brave man, for your honest opinion” answered the other one, “however, you should not, as you are yourself in need, suffer any discomfort. There, I see coming two strong men who can provide me the help which could be painful to you.” This action was purely (however, also not otherwise than) moral because it would be undertaken against the sensible interest, only for the respect of rules. Now, the two men are approaching the wounded and begin to ask him about his misfortune. Hardly has he opened his mouth that the two men uttered in astonishment: “That’s him! He is the one we are looking for!” The wounded man recognized them and was frightened. It turned out that both men recognized in him their staunched enemy and the person at the origin of their misfortune and the person whom they are pursuing in order to return to him a legitimate anger.

“Satisfy, now, your hatred and your anger” says the wounded man, “death and not help is what I should expect from you.”

“No” replied one of them, “now, you see who we are and who you are, so take these clothes and cover yourself. We will take you between us and bring you wherever help is available.” “Generous enemy!” says the wounded wholly shaken. “You are shaming me, you are disarming my hatred: come, now, embrace me and make your good deed perfect through a sincere forgiveness.” “Moderate yourself, friend” replies the other one coldly. “It is not because I forgive you that I will help you but rather because you are in need.”

“Then, take your clothes back” says the wounded while he threw the clothes away from himself. “Come what may! But I would rather die miserably than owe a proud enemy my rescue.” As he stood up and attempted to leave, a fifth walker who was carrying a heavy burden on his shoulders was approaching. “I have been so deceived so many times, thought the wounded and this person does not look as if he would be helping me. I will let him pass by”. However, as soon as the walker saw him, he puts his burden down. “I see” he says from his own initiative, “that you are wounded and that your forces have abandoned you. The next village is still far and you will be bleeding so much before you can reach it. Climb on my back, hence, I must gather myself anew and bring you there.

“But, what will become of your bundle which you must be leaving, here, on this open country road?”

“That I do not know and that worries me not” says the burden carrier. “I know, however, that you need help and that I owe help to you.”

* This title has been given by the translator to this excerpt.

Author's Note

I have edited this text to make it more comfortable to read. Hope you will enjoy

Reviews

[Phibby Venable]

it is difficult to find someone whose help is not self motivated, duty or conscious bound, out of pity or an attempt to exalt the self, and rare to find the man that gives up his all for his brother with no regard for himself or possessions.

[Lydia Shutter]

For a man who passed in the early 1800's, Schiller's work is still very much on target today. Is it your professional job to translate his work or are you doing this because you admire his work so much? Obviously you are fluent in German to do such a stellar job. Lydia

[Sarai Akscyn]

Dear Marc, Am I understanding this correctly .. . that you are taking task to translate this man Schiller's works? From some foreign language perhaps into English?

Bless your heart for such an undertaking. I find this reading and storyline nearly unbearable. I kept thinking surely there must be a purer form in the telling ... something more zen-like. The diction is crowded and clunky. The density of the entire tale makes for hard labor. The language is stiff and unpleasing.

It must be an extraordinary sensibility that draws you to this particular writer. One that I direly lack, I'm afraid. Forgive me. Sarai