Translation:Max Havelaar/02

There was little to do at the exchange market, but the spring auction will change that. Please do not think we have little business. At Busselinck & Waterman it's a lot worse. It's a strange world! You see such things if you have been visiting the exchange markets for twenty years. Imagine that they have attempted – Busselinck & Waterman, I mean – to take Ludwig Stern away from me. Since I do not know whether you are acquainted with the exchange market, I'll explain that Stern is a major coffee merchant in Hamburg, which has always been served by Last & Co. I discovered that by coincidence – the tampering by Busselinck & Waterman, I mean. They wanted to drop a quarter percent of the brokerage – interlopers they are, nothing else! – and behold what I did to defend myself. Someone else would have written to Stern that he'd also drop some brokerage, hoping for consideration because Last & Co served him such a long time – I calculated that the firm has, for fifty years, earned 400,000 guilders from Stern. That connection dates from the continental system, when we smuggled colonial goods from Helgoland. Yes, who knows what someone else would have written. But no, I will not be an interloper. I've gone to Polen, asked for pen and paper and wrote:
 * That the great enhancement of our businesses in recent times, in particular because of the many honoured orders from the North of Germany (It's the plain truth.) that this enhancement required that we employ more staff. (It's the truth! Yesterday evening the bookkeeper was in the office after eleven, to search his spectacles.) That there was in particular need of decent, well-educated young men to help with correspondence in German. That there are any German youth in Amsterdam with the required skills, but that a self-respecting firm (It's the plain truth!) with the enhancing levity and indecency of young people, with the daily increase of the number of fortune seekers, and thinking of the need of solidity of conduct, hand in hand with solidity of execution, of the given orders, (It is, truly, all the plain truth.) that such a firm – I mean Last & Co, coffee brokers, 37 Laurier Canal – should be extremely careful when employing individuals.

All this is the plain truth, reader. Do you know that the young German, who stood at the exchange market at pillar number 17, ran away with a daughter of Busselinck & Waterman? Our Marie will be thirteen in September.
 * That I had the honour to hear from Mr Saffeler – Saffeler travels for Stern – that the esteemed chairman of the firm, Mr Ludwig Stern, had a son, Mr Ernest Stern, who wanted to complete his commercial knowledge by being employed in a Dutch house. That I, regarding the … (And I repeated the indecentness, and I told about the daughter of Busselinck & Waterman. It doesn't matter if they know, I think.) that I, regarding that, wanted nothing else but having Mr Ernest Stern to do the German correspondence of our firm.

For reasons of decency I avoided saying anything about payment or salary. But I added:
 * That, if Mr Ernest Stern would accept to stay at our house – 37 Laurier Canal – my wife would be willing to care for him like a mother, and that his clothing would be mended at home. 

That's the plain truth, Marie mends and darns dearly. And eventually
 * That we serve the Lord.

He can keep that in mind, for the Stern are Lutheran. And I sent my letter. You understand that Stern will not easily do business with Busselinck & Waterman while his boy is in our office. I am eager to hear the answer.

Now back to my book. Some time ago I walked in the evening through Kalverstraat, and I looked at the shop of a grocer, who was displaying some Java, ordinary, fine-yellow, Cheribonard, a bit broken, with sweepings, which interested me, since I pay attention to everything. Than suddenly I saw a gentleman who stood in front of a bookshop, and I thought I had seen him before. I also seemed to recognise me, for our glances met for some time. I must admit that I was more interested in the sweepings, so I did not see immediately what I saw only later, that he wore rather insufficient clothing. Otherwise I would have left the case. But suddenly I thought that he could be a travelling salesman from a German firm, searching for a trustable broker. He looked a bit like a German, and like a traveller. His hair was fair, his eyes were blue, and his stature and clothing showed that he was a stranger. He had no proper winter coat but only a kind of shawl over his shoulder – Frits says "sjaal" but I don't – as if he had just arrived from a voyage. I thought he might be a customer and I gave him my business card: Last & Co, coffee brokers, 37 Laurier Canal. He held it near a lantern and said: "Thank you, I must be wrong. I thought to have the pleasure of seeing an old schoolfellow, but Last, that's not the name."

Pardon, I said – for I am always polite – I am Mr Drystubble, Batavus Drystubble. Last & Co is the name of the firm, coffee brokers, 37 Laurier...

"Well, Drystubble, don't you remember me? Look at me."

The more I looked at him, the more I remembered seeing him before. But, strange, his face made me think that I smelled strange perfumes. Do not laugh about that, reader, soon you will see why. I am sure that he carried no perfumes at all, and yet I smelt something pleasant, something strong, something that reminded me of – that was it!

"Are you the one, I said, who saved me from the Greek?"

"For sure," he said, "that was me. And how are you?"

I told him that there were thirteen in the office, and that there was a lot of business. And I asked about him, and I was sorry about that afterwards, since it appeared that he was not in good circumstances, and I dislike poor people, since they are usually to blame themselves, since the Lord would never leave someone who had served him faithfully. If I had simply said: "There are thirteen in the office... have a nice evening", I would have been rid of him. But all the questions and answers made it so much more difficult – Frits says: the longer the more difficult, but I don't - much more difficult to get rid of him. On the other hand I must admit that you would not have read this book, for it was a result of this meeting. I like to remark the good things; those who don't are unsatisfied people whom I dislike.

Yes, yes, he was the one who saved me from the hands of a Greek! You should not think that I have ever been captured by pirates, or that I have been fighting in the Levant. I already told you that after our wedding I went with my wife to The Hague. We saw the Mauritshuis and we bought flannel in Veenestraat. That's the only trip we ever afforded ourselves, because we have such a busy office. No it was in Amsterdam where he hit a Greek on the nose for my sake. He always interfered with things which were not his business.

It was in '33 or '34, I think, and in September, for there was a fair in Amsterdam. Because my folks intended to make me a preacher, I learned Latin. Later I always wondered why one must understand Latin to say in Dutch "God is good". Well, I had been to the Latin school – today called grammar school – and there was a fair – In Amsterdam I mean. There were stalls in Westermarkt, and if you are an Amsterdammer, reader, and approximately of my age, you will remember that there was one who drew attention by the black eyes and the long tresses of a girl who was dressed like a Greek. Her father was a Greek too, or at least he looked like a Greek. They sold all kinds of perfumes.

I was just old enough to like the girl, but I lacked the courage to speak to her. It would not have helped either, for girls of eighteen years regard a sixteen-year-old boy as a child. And they are right. And yet we, boys from quarta, went to Westermarkt every evening to see that girl.

Well, he who stood there with his shawl was there too, although he was a few years younger than the others and still to childish to look to the Greek girl. But he was the primus of our grade – for he was clever, I must admit – and he liked playing, frolicking and fighting. So he was among us. While we – there were ten of us – were at some distance from the stall, looking at the Greek girl, and considering how we were going to court her, we decided to put some money together and to buy something in that stall. But good advice was needed to know who was going to be the bold one to speak to the girl. Everyone wanted, but nobody dared. We drew lots, and I was chosen. Well, I admit that I am not the one who likes to face dangers. I am a man and a father, and I consider anyone who seeks out danger to be a fool, whatever is written in the Scripture. It is pleasant to me to remark that I never changed in my ideas about dangers and similar things, that I have today still the same opinion as that evening when I stood at the Greek's stall, with in my hand the twelve pennies which we had gathered But see, out of shame I did not dare to say that I did not dare, and besides I had to go, for my friends forced me to, and soon I stood in front of the stall.

I did not see the girl: I saw nothing! Everything swam before my eyes. I stammered a aoristus primus of some unknown verb...

"Plaît-il?" she said.

I recovered a bit and continued:

"Meenin aeide theós", and that Egypt was a gift of the Nile.

I am convinced that I would have succeeded had not at that time one of my friends, in childish wantonness, had given me a big push in the back, which made me fly into the display case, which stood in front of the stall. I felt someone grasp my neck, another grasp somewhere else, I floated for a moment, and before I understood what had happened, I was in the Greek's stall, who said in clear French that I was a gamin, and that he'd call the police. Well, I was very near to the girl, but I did not enjoy it. I wept, and I begged for mercy, for I was in a terrible panic. But to no avail. The Greek held me by the arm and kicked me. I searched for my friends – that morning we had learned about Scaevola, who put his hand in the fire, and in their Latin essays they had enjoyed the story – yes! Nobody had remained to put a hand in the fire for me.

So I thought. But suddenly, there was my Shawlman who flew through the back door into the stall. He was neither big nor strong, and only thirteen years old, but he was quick and brave. I still see his eyes shining – usually they were faint – he gave the Greek a punch and I was saved. Later I heard that the Greek had given him a fair beating, but I am a man of principles, I never interfere with things which are not my business, so I ran away. I never saw what happened.

That was the reason why his features reminded me of perfumes, and how you can fight in Amsterdam with a Greek. When I saw the man and his stall in later fairs, I always went to find amusement elsewhere.

Because I like philosophical remarks, I must tell you, reader, how wonderful the things in this world are connected together. Had the eyes of that girl not been so black, had her tresses been shorter, had I not been thrown into the display case, you would not have read this book. So be thankful that it happened. Believe me, everything in the world is good, as it is, and unsatisfied people who keep complaining are not my friends. For example Busselinck & Waterman ... but I must go on, the book must be finished before the spring auction.

Frankly said – for I praise the truth – it was not unpleasant to me to see that man again. I immediately saw that he was not a solid connection. He was very pale, and when I asked what time it was, he did not know. Those are things a man pays attention to when he has visited the exchange market for twenty years and has experienced so much. I saw quite a few houses fall!

I thought that he'd turn right and I said I would go left. But behold, he also turned left, so the conversation could not be avoided. But all the time I thought that he did not know what time it was, and I also saw that his coat had been buttoned up to his chin – a very bad indication – and so I attempted to make the conversation rather faint. He told me that he had been to the Indies, that he was married, that he had children. I have nothing against those things, but I do not find them important. At Kapelsteeg - I never go through that street, since it isn’t proper for a decent man, in my opinion – but this time I wanted to turn right at Kapelsteeg. I waited until we had almost passed that street, to make sure that he wanted to go straight ahead, and I said politely – for I am always polite, you never know whether you may need someone afterwards:

"It was really pleasant to see you again, Mr r r! And – and – and – I recommend! I go this way."

He looked at me in a funny way, sighed, and suddenly grabbed a button of my coat.

"Dear Drystubble," he said, "I want to ask you something."

I felt a shiver. He did not know what time it was and he wanted to ask something. Of course I replied that I had no time, I had to go to the exchange market, although it was evening. But if you have visited the market for twenty years and someone wants to ask you something, without knowing what time it is…

I loosened my button, said politely goodbye – for I am always polite – and went into Kapelsteeg, which I wouldn't normally do, because it isn’t decent, and decency is all-important to me. I hope no-one saw it. Max Havelaar of de Koffiveilingen der Nederlandsche Handelsmaatschappy - Deel 2 Max Havelaar/Bab 2