The Banner of the Upright Seven | Page 8

cup is more suitable than anything else to be given as a trophy. It retains its value, cannot be used up, and is a handsome reminder of happy days and of the valiant men of the house. The house in which a silver cup is preserved can never quite decay, and who can say whether much else is not also preserved for the sake of such a memorial. And is not art given the opportunity by fashioning ever new and pleasing forms, to increase the variety of these vessels, and thus to exercise its creative power and to bear a ray of beauty into the most distant valley, so that gradually a vast treasure of precious prize-cups will accumulate in our fatherland, precious alike in form and metal? And how fitting it is that these treasures, scattered over the whole country, cannot be made to serve the common uses of every-day life, but in their pure brilliance, in their chaste forms, continue to keep the higher things before our eyes, and thus seem to hold fast the idea of unity and the sunlight of days ideally spent. Away then with the trash that is beginning to pile up in our trophy-halls, a prey to moths and to the most ordinary uses, and let us hold fast to the venerable old drinking-cup! Truly, if I were living in the days when all that is Swiss was drawing to its end, I could not imagine a more uplifting crowning festivity than to gather together the thousands and tens of thousands of cups of all sorts and shapes belonging to all the clubs, societies and individuals, in all their radiance of by-gone days, with all their memories, and to drink a last toast to the declining fatherland-"
"Hush, churlish guest! What unworthy thoughts!" cried the Upright and Staunch, and shuddered. But Frymann continued:
"As it becomes a man in the vigor of his prime sometimes to think of death, so, too, in a meditative hour he may turn his gaze on the certain end of his fatherland, that he may love its present all the more fervently, for everything is transitory and subject to change on this earth. Have not much greater nations than we perished? Or would you linger on like the Wandering Jew who cannot die, serving in turn all the new nations as they arise, he who buried the Egyptians, the Greeks, and the Romans? No, a nation that knows that a time will come when it will no longer be makes all the more intense use of its days, lives so much the longer, and leaves a glorious memory; for it will not rest until it has brought to light and exercised the capabilities that lie within it, like a man who knows no rest until he has set his house in order before he leaves this life. That, in my opinion, is the chief thing. Once a nation has performed its task, what do a few longer or shorter days of existence matter? New figures are already waiting at the portals of their time. And so I must confess that once a year, during some sleepless night, or on quiet paths, I fall a prey to such thoughts, and try to imagine what the nation will be like that will some day hold sway in these mountains after we are gone. And each time I return to my work with greater energy, as if I could thus hasten the work of my nation so that that people of the future will walk over our graves with respect.
"But away with these thoughts and back to our joyful prospects! I would suggest that we order a new cup from our master silversmith, on which he promises to make no profit, but to give as much value as possible. For this purpose let us have an artist make a good design which shall depart from the ordinary meaningless pattern, but because of our limited means let him pay more attention to the proportions, to the form and simple grace of the whole, than to rich ornamentation and, after this design, Master Kuser will furnish us with a pleasing and substantial piece of work."
This proposal was accepted and the business disposed of. Frymann, however, immediately took the floor again and began:
"Now that we have settled these matters of general interest, my friends, permit me to bring up another special question, and to make a complaint that we may adjust it together in friendly fashion according to our old custom. You know that our good friend, Kaspar Hediger, is the father of four lively boys whose desire to marry as youngsters makes the whole neighborhood unsafe. In fact, three of them already have wives and children, although the eldest is not yet twenty-seven. There remains