The Poor Man of Toggenburg - Autobiography of Ulrich Bräker

From Entlibuch on the road to Hasle a monk of Freyburg, who came from Einsiedeln, joined up with me. Hm, thought I, that's holy society. I will have to put myself in the mood for spiritual conversation. But first I wanted to sound out my travelling companion a little. So asked questions about his order. But he answered with words I could not understand and told me the story of his upbringing and adventures in school. It did not take me long to remark that I did not need to employ any unusual refinement but might speak just in my natural wonted mother tongue. The occasion was: on the road we saw some children playing together at childish sports. My travelling companion seized the opportunity to hold forth on the way young people are brought up these days, saying that children were being reared too soft, that people indulged all their whims and turned a blind eye. In his day fifty years ago people were much stricter and kept children under severe discipline, and when they erred their backsides were thoroughly weeded. And he had often been weeded like that. For a long time I did not understand what "weeding" meant, but I soon made out that it was the same thing as swinging a birch-rod over their buttocks as they say in our part of the world, or beating on the naked backside. The monk told me a few more little stories. And when we passed two pretty girls sitting by the roadside, he put on a friendly manner, introduced himself and tried to flirt with one of them. I went on. But when I looked back, the girls had also gone on their way, and the old brother was hastening after me, swaying somewhat as his gait was rather unsteady. Ha, said he, they were sweet pieces but the little fools are somewhat shy. At a monastery - I think it was Schupfen - he wanted to go in. Here he would have nothing to pay, he said. But he was turned away. They told him there were some foreign gentlemen there. In the village he wanted me to lodge with him. No, said I, I'm going on to Eschlismatt, and I took leave of my ill-bred Pater.

In Eschlismatt I was also recommended to the priest

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, who was said to be an amiable friend of humanity. But him too I did not find at home. He also was on a journey. His curate peered at me through a peephole without saying a word. I had my midday meal at a good inn. Afterwards I asked to be shown the direction over the pastures, because it would cut off an hour's walk to Trub, rather than on the main road. The path led on straight as a die up the mountain. But when I had gained the uppermost slopes it was level, through grassy meadows. I saw beautiful fat cattle there. [...] At last I looked almost straight downwards to Trub. The path went down very steeply too, and in the evening I arrived in good time at the home of my dear pastor Imhof. My welcome was certainly a hearty one, just as it had been my dearest wish to see Imhof and his dear family again and speak with them. Perhaps, God knows, for the last time in my life. And this was certainly my chief reason for taking this detour through Entlibuch on the way to Bern. The evening, half the night and up to the afternoon of the next day flew past in familiar conversation. Pastor Imhof showed me all over his glebe and showed me all his land and property [...]. And then I went on to spend the night at Langnau.

I was not feeling at all well, the only time on this journey. I thought a little hot soup would help matters. But I could not relish anything, even though the meal was better than I ever ate at an inn, indeed they brought me my favourite dish: delicate meat with a pig's trotter and beans. But I had to pay for it even though I had sent it away. So I went to bed early and sweated so heavily that I got up next morning again quite cheerful and refreshed. Langnau is a fine large village and the country round it is splendid and fruitful. On the 27th I viewed the village and remembered the famous Michael Schäpbach

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. I made my way by Signau, Hochstetten, Worb, a large village, with a castle and a bleaching-ground and a fine countryside. After that, over Gumlingen. Almost always I had the most beautiful prospects, castles to right and left and fertile

Franz Josef Stalder (1757-1833), Catholic priest and inspector of schools. [Chronik, p 398]

Michael Schäpbach (1707-1781), known as the Miracle Doctor, lived on a hill near Langnau. Coxe [pp 265-6] says that he is famous all over Europe, but has little theoretical knowledge of medicine, he (Coxe) thinks that the cures are due to the healthy mountain air, interesting company, and faith. He treats poor patients without charge and sometimes gives them money or invites them to a meal.