The Tanners

Simon was delighted to have been reprimanded. Back in the days when he’d gone wandering through hot, scorched, abandoned streets without direction, how often his heart had yearned for a cruel harsh reprimand, a curse, even words of disparagement or abuse, just to have the certainty that he wasn’t utterly alone, that his existence wasn’t going entirely unheeded, even if the heed paid it was a rude negative sort. “How sweet this reprimand sounds coming from her womanly mouth,” he thought, “and how this binds me to her, how tightly it binds and knots and shackles me, a reprimand like that feels like a tiny, scarcely at all painful box on the ears prompted by a mistake one has made”; and Simon secretly resolved to go on making mistakes, that is, no, perhaps not exclusively, as that would mark him as a dunce, but regularly to have minor slip-ups, nice intentional ones, so as to have the pleasure of seeing this sensitive female, who was used to having things just so, filled with indignation. Indignation? Well, maybe not exactly indignation, but at least a sort of questioning, an astonishment at his, Simon’s clumsiness. Then a person would be given the opportunity to shine in other ways, and so one would be allowed the pleasure of watching a stern, vexed face turn into a more friendly, satisfied one. How delightful to be able to transform another’s mood from displeasure to contentment when this person had been aggrieved just a moment before. “I’ve already acquired one adorable reprimand today,” Simon thought, and further: “How pleasant it is to be the one being reprimanded — this is, in a matter of speaking, a more mature, superior state. I was made to be reprimanded, for I’m always grateful to receive reprimands; the only people who deserve the favor of being reprimanded are those who know how to express their thanks by assuming an appropriate bearing.”

Simon was in fact standing there appropriately, and he felt: “Now I’ve really become this woman’s servant; her reprimanding me shows she feels within her right to rebuke me without much forethought, and from me in return she expects a decorous silence. When a superior castigates a subordinate official, this causes him pain, and it’s always secretly one’s intention to hurt a subordinate by drawing his attention to one’s own higher standing. One reprimands a servant only with the intention of instructing and training him to be as one wishes; for a servant belongs to one, whereas one’s relationship with a subordinate official ends along with the workday. I, for example, have now been chastised with heartfelt warmth, and in addition one must consider that this reprimand came from a woman who belongs to those women who are always lovely when they set about something of the sort. Indeed, one need only hear ladies giving voice to reprimands to realize how much better they are than men at rebuking those at fault while avoiding petty slights. But perhaps this is wrong, and it’s just that I consider words that would wound me coming from a man to be far from insulting — encouraging even — on a woman’s lips. Standing before a man, I’m always conscious of a proud equality, but with a woman: never, since after all I’m a man or at least preparing to become one. With a woman, one must always feel either superior or subordinate! — To obey a child if it has a charming way of giving orders is easy for me, but to obey a man: Fie! Only cowardice and financial interests might cause one man to cower before another: such base motives! So I’m glad it’s my duty to obey a woman; this comes quite naturally, as it can never be injurious to one’s honor. A woman can never injure a man’s honor except by adultery, but in these cases the man is most likely behaving like a dunce and a weakling who cannot be dishonored even by the betrayal itself, as the very possibility of its occurring has long since dishonored him in the eyes of all who know him. Women can make you unhappy, but they can never dishonor you; for true unhappiness is no disgrace and can appear comical only to coarse people and sensibilities, individuals who, let us note, dishonor only themselves with their derision.”

“Come here!”