It was while travelling between Mannheim and Heidelberg to examine students of theology that he died, of cancer it seems, in September 1826. In 1824 he had lost a great part of his wealth when his banker, a friend of his, went bankrupt. Characteristically the loss had been borne philosophically; Hebel was more concerned with the plight of his friend than with his own misfortune.

Each year on Hebel’s birthday a ceremony, organized by the Hebel Foundation of Basel, takes place in his honour in his native Hausen. There are speeches, prizes for the young who recite his poems, gifts for virtuous fiancés or newly-weds, and a meal at which the oldest parishioners are the guests of honour. The celebration recalls a man whose work endeared itself to the local community and acted as its cultural ambassador. His fame went far. Tolstoy was able to recite some of Hebel’s stories by heart. In translation they were popular with teachers and pupils alike in Russian schools. Their continuing appeal to adults throughout Germany (who fall in love with Freddy Tinder, the Sly Pilgrim [p. 31] and ‘Kannitverstan’ at an early age) is attested by the appearance every few years of a new inexpensive edition of his works. Such popularity and Hebel’s early adoption as a text for schoolchildren seem, however, to have discouraged searching literary analysis of his work. Between the two world wars the influential critical rebel Walter Benjamin could accuse the literary establishment of having ignored Hebel’s achievement by declaring his jewels of prose fit only for peasants and children. (Benjamin’s friend Bertolt Brecht was to emulate, in his Kalendergeschichten [Tales from the Calendar] of 1948, Hebel’s special art of using a brief story to make a particular point to a particular public.) Yet in fact Hebel never lacked fervent admirers among intellectuals. The philosopher Martin Heidegger, for instance, had an almost religious respect for Hebel, and though his approach may not convince everyone, there can be no doubt that he was reacting to something essential in Hebel’s work, not only to his models of the art of prose narrative but to what earlier generations had been content to call naturalness. It was undoubtedly that secure naturalness that appealed so strongly to Kafka as a contrast to his own abysses of uncertainty. Hebel had no problems deciding what was true and what was right, when it was appropriate to laugh and when to cry, and the modern reader may well, like Kafka, find welcome relief from some of the products of modernism (and its successors) in an author who is eminently accessible, is not ashamed of sentiment, is cheerful and humorous and sane and humane.

The present edition brings, in translation, a selection from the Schatzkästlein of 1811, several pieces from later issues of the Hausfreund, one story (‘Mr Charles’, p. 161) that Hebel published elsewhere, and one (‘The Glove Merchant’, p. 166) which was first printed after his death. As translator I am grateful to Celia Skrine, who kindly looked through an early draft of many of the items in this volume, made suggestions for improvements and, equally important, gave encouragement. My thanks also to my publisher who retained his enthusiasm for the project throughout. He and I present this volume to the English-speaking world as Kafka presented his copy of the Schatzkästlein to an acquaintance, ‘um Hebel eine Freude zu machen’, but trusting that it will give pleasure to its readers too.

Further Reading

The literature on Hebel in English is sparse and to be found in academic periodicals. Two general essays suitable for the reader without German, but likely to be found only in university libraries, are: C. P. Magill, ‘Pure and Applied Art: A Note on J. P. Hebel’ in German Life and Letters, new series 10 (1956–57), pp. 183–188; J. Hibberd, ‘J. P. Hebel’ in Dictionary of Literary Biography, vol.