zurück

Cunning Against Cunning     (List gegen List)    1815

Two elegantly dressed individuals had purchased precious jewels worth 3,000 talers from a renowned goldsmith for the coronation in Hungary. They then paid him a thousand talers in cash, placed everything they had selected in a small box, sealed the box and gave it back to the goldsmith as a pledge for the remaining sum, or at least that is what it appeared to be to the goldsmith. ‘In 14 days,’ they said, ‘we will bring you the remaining sum and then take possession of the box.’ Everything was put in writing. But three weeks passed and no one came forward. The coronation day passed, and then another four weeks passed. No one asked about the box. Finally, the goldsmith thought: ‘Why should I keep your property at my own risk and have my capital lying dead inside?’ So he wanted to open the box in the presence of an official and deposit the 1,000 talers he had already received. But when it was opened, ‘dear good goldsmith,’ said the actuary, ‘How you have been duped by those two rogues.’ For instead of precious stones, the box contained pebbles, and instead of gold, window lead. The two merchants were mischievous conjurers, Bohemian Jews, who had quietly taken the real box aside and given the goldsmith another one that looked exactly the same.

‘Goldsmith,’ said the actuary, ‘good advice is hard to come by here. You are an unfortunate man.’ Just then, a well-dressed and respectable stranger entered the door and wanted to sell the goldsmith all kinds of crooked silverware and single-edged buckles, and saw the spectacle. ‘Goldsmith,’ he said when the actuary had left, ‘you must not get involved with clerks for the rest of your life. Stick to practical men. If you have the heart to put a sausage on a side of bacon, you can be helped. If your little box or its value is still in the world, I will bring the rogues back into your house.’ ‘Who are you, if I may ask?’ asked the goldsmith. ‘I am Freddy Tinder,’ replied the stranger confidently, with a rather amiable, friendly rogue's face. Those who do not know Freddy personally, like the family friend, cannot imagine how honest and good-natured he can be, and how he can steal the hearts and trust of even the most cautious people as irresistibly as he steals their money. In fact, he is not as bad as people between Bühl and Achern think he is.

Whether the goldsmith was also thinking of the proverb that rogues are best caught with rogues, or whether he was thinking of another proverb, that he who has brought the horse should also bring the bridle (because of a good friend, the house friend does not want to name him), in short, the goldsmith confides in Freddy. ‘But I beg you,’ he said, ‘do not deceive me.’ ‘You can rely on me,’ said Freddy, ‘and do not be too alarmed when you are a little wiser tomorrow morning!’ Perhaps Freddy is on the right track? No, he is not yet. But whoever brought the goldsmith another four dozen silver spoons, six silver salt cellars and six gold rings with precious stones that same night was Freddy. Many a sympathetic reader who does not think much of him will think: ‘You got what you deserved.’ So much the better. Because the goldsmith was fine with it too. On the table, he found a receipt signed by ZundelFreddy himself, confirming that he had received the above items, and a letter instructing the goldsmith on how to proceed. Namely, he was to report the theft to the authorities as instructed by Freddy and request an inspection. He then asked the magistrate to publish the lost items in all the newspapers. He also asked that the sealed box with its complete description be included in the list. The magistrate understood and agreed.

‘An honest goldsmith,’ he thought, ‘is someone who runs a household can do a favour for.’ So it spread through all the newspapers that the goldsmith had been robbed of this and that, including a little box with many precious gemstones, all of which were named. The news reached Augsburg. ‘Löb,’ one Bohemian Jew smiled to another, ‘the goldsmith will never know what was in the little box. Did you know it was stolen from him?’ ‘All the better,’ said Löb, ‘then he'll have to give us our money back, and he'll have nothing.’ Soon the swindlers fall into Freddy's trap and return to the goldsmith. ‘Be so kind and give us the little box now! We've kept you waiting a little too long, haven't we?’ ‘Dear sirs,’ replied the goldsmith, "in the meantime, a great misfortune has befallen you: the little box has been stolen. Haven't you read about it in the newspaper?‘ Löb replied calmly, ’We are sorry to hear that, but misfortune will be on your side. Either you give us back the box as we gave it to you, or you give us back the money we paid in advance. The coronation is over anyway." They argued back and forth, ‘and misfortune will be on your side after all,’ the goldsmith said again. For at that very moment, four porters entered the room with his wife, sturdy men as they are, and grabbed hold of him.

The little box was nowhere to be found, but the prison and as much money and valuables as were needed to pay the goldsmith. Out of gratitude, the goldsmith tore up Freddy's receipt. But Freddy brought it all back to him and asked for nothing in return for his good advice. ‘If I ever need any of your wares,’ he said, ‘I now know the way to your shop and to your little box. If only I could destroy all the rogues,’ he said, ‘so that I would be the only one left.’

For he is jealous.