THE GREAT CLOCK PLAYS ITS MELODIES, AND
FRESH ONES ARE ADDED.
It was quite an event in the valley when the news was circulated that
the large, handsome clock--the "Magic Flute," as it was called, made by
Lenz of the Morgenhalde--was to be sent off in the course of a few days
to its destination in Russia. It attracted a perfect pilgrimage to
Lenz's house--every one wished to admire the fine instrument before it
left the country for ever. Franzl had a great deal to do in welcoming
all the people, and shaking hands with them--first wiping her hands
carefully on her apron--and then escorting them a little way. There
were not chairs enough in the house, for all the people who came to sit
down at the same time.
Even uncle Petrowitsch condescended to come, and he not only brought
Bueble with him--for that was a matter of course--but Ibrahim,
Petrowitsch's companion at cards--of whom people said that, during his
fifty years' absence from home, he had become a Turk. The two old men
said little; Ibrahim sat still and smoked his long Turkish pipe, and
moved his eyebrows up and down; Petrowitsch fidgeted round him, just as
Bueble fidgeted round Petrowitsch. For Ibrahim was the only man who had
a certain influence over Petrowitsch, which he only retained because he
rarely exercised it. He would listen to no man who applied to him to
obtain any favour from Petrowitsch. They played cards together for
whole evenings, each paying his losses on the spot; and the restless,
lively disposition of Ibrahim made Petrowitsch more polite and
complaisant; and here, in the old family house, Petrowitsch seemed, in
some degree, inclined to assist his nephew in doing the honours.
While the clock was playing a grand piece, Petrowitsch stood beside the
work bench, examining everything that lay there or hung on the wall. At
last he took down the well known file, with its worn handle. When the
piece was finished, he said to Lenz--"This is your father's file, is it
not?"
"Yes; it belonged to my deceased father."
"I will buy it from you."
"You are not in earnest, surely, uncle: it is not likely I should sell
it."
"To me you certainly might."
"Not even to you, though I hope you will not be offended."
"Very well; then make me a present of it. I will give you something in
return some day."
"Uncle, I scarcely can tell--I really don't know what to say; but my
feeling is, that I cannot bear to part with the file."
"Very good!--'Stay there,'" said he to the tool, hanging it up again in
its place; and soon he was walking down to the valley with Ibrahim.
People came from miles distant, and from quite the other side of the
valley, to admire the clock; and Franzl was particularly pleased when
the first man out of her village, Kunslingen, the balance maker, came
and said openly--"Such an instrument has not been produced in our
country for a hundred years. It is a pity that it must be dumb while it
is travelling; and that it cannot go on playing all the way from here
to Odessa, saying--'I come from the Black Forest--clever men must live
there to complete such mechanism.'"
Franzl smiled with delight, and said--"This is the way the Kunslingen
people speak--no others, from any part of the world, are as clever as
they are." She told them how long and how eagerly Lenz had worked at
the clock, and how often he used to rise in the night to adjust some
part of the instrument, which had just struck him as requiring
improvement. There were mysteries in the trade which few could explain.
She, of course, was one of the initiated; and no girl's heart,
listening to a first declaration of love, could receive it with
greater delight than Franzl, when she heard the most esteemed man in
her village say--"Yes, Franzl; and a house from which such a work
proceeds--so accurate and so delicate--such a house must be a well
ordered one, so you have some share in the merit also."
"I hope no one will take it amiss--I don't wish to offend any one; but
I must say that nowhere in the world are people so clever as in our
village. This man is the only person who has defined the matter
properly. See how the others all stood there! just like a cow before a
new barn door. Moo! moo!--not a bit more sense than that! But the
Kunslingers! God be praised that I was born in Kunslingen!" Franzl's
gestures and looks said all this, as she placed her hand on her beating
heart, and her eyes looked devoutly up to Heaven.
Lenz could not help laughing when, at each meal, she brought in
with every dish the good news that he was now quite famous in
Kunslingen; and Kunslingen is no insignificant spot, for it has two
parishes--Fuchsberg and Knelingen.
"Tomorrow I intend to nail up the case--tomorrow evening the 'Magic
Flute' is positively to be sent off," said Lenz.
"So soon?" said Franzl sorrowfully; and she looked at the case, as if
she wished to entreat it to stay a little longer. "It looks so well
here, and brings us so much honour."
"I am only surprised," continued Lenz, "why the Doctor and his family
have not been here; and----and the family at the 'Lion' promised they
would come."
Franzl rubbed her forehead, and shrugged her shoulders, and regretted
her ignorance; but it was impossible for her to know what went on in
such fine houses.
Annele had repeatedly reminded her mother of her promise, but she
refused to go without her husband, for their dignity is sadly
diminished when the Landlord is not present; but this dignified person
never runs after other people's things--if they wish for his approval,
they must come to him.
But now, however, on this last day, Annele had heard--she always got
good information--that the Doctor and his daughters intended to go to
Lenz's; this being the very last day, the superior families reserved
themselves for that. Mother and daughter resolved not to go to the
Morgenhalde till the Doctor's family had preceded them: they said
nothing to the majestic Papa of the diplomacy here displayed, for his
sense of dignity would have been hurt.
"Here comes the Schoolmaster!" exclaimed Franzl early in the morning,
looking out of the kitchen window. His companions called this young man
the "Singing Master"--a title that he liked, for he was, in fact, the
founder of the Choral Society; and when he sung with Lenz, Faller, and
Pilgrim, they were a first rate quartett. Lenz gave him a hearty
welcome, and Franzl begged him to stay with them for a couple of hours,
to assist them in receiving the numerous visitors that were sure to
come on this last day.
"Yes, do stay," said Lenz. "You can't imagine how grieved I am to see
my work depart. I can fancy a person feeling just like that, when a
brother or a child leaves home for foreign parts."
"You go too far," said the Schoolmaster, reprovingly; "you cling with
your whole heart to everything--you have always some fresh object to
devote yourself to! You know I don't care much for musical clocks."
Franzl looked very angry, but the young man continued:--"They are for
children and childish people. I don't even like the piano, because its
tones are already made. Music on the piano is little better than
whistling a song; and as for your clocks and barrel organs, they have
tongues and lungs but no hearts."
Franzl bolted out of the room, very cross. "God be praised, that there
are still Kunslingers in the world, who understand things better!"
She heard them in the next room singing that touching song, "To-morrow
must I leave thee!" Lenz sang a clear, though not a very full, tenor;
and the Schoolmaster could not venture to put forth the energies of his
bass voice, for fear of drowning Lenz's sweeter tones. Franzl
interrupted the song by calling out through the open door--"Here come
the people from the Doctor's."
The Schoolmaster, as master of the ceremonies, went to meet them at the
door.
The Doctor came in, accompanied by his wife and his three daughters,
and immediately said, in his unceremonious way, which had nothing
imperious, but yet admitted of no denial, that Lenz was not to lose his
working hours by talking, but merely set the clock going. He did so,
and they were all evidently delighted. When the first piece was
finished, Lenz cast down his eyes on hearing so much praise, and yet it
was all said in a way which did not require deductions to be made for
politeness.
"Grandmamma desires to be remembered to you," said the eldest daughter;
and Bertha exclaimed--"Fancy a clockcase having so many voices!"
"I suppose you would like to have as many?" said her father, laughing.
The eldest, however, said to Lenz, while her brown eyes sparkled--"You
seem to have a most superior talent for music."
"If my worthy father," said Lenz, "had bought me a violin when I was a
child, so that I might have learned to play on it, I do think that I
might have been a good musician in time, and perhaps done something."
"You have done something," said the stout Doctor, laying his large hand
kindly on Lenz's shoulder.
The Schoolmaster, who was very proud of understanding the internal
mechanism of the instrument, saved Lenz the trouble of explaining it to
the ladies; and, indeed, Lenz could not so well have illustrated how
the delicate shades of _crescendo_ and _decrescendo_ were produced, and
what a quick ear it requires to produce a full tone without depriving
the instrument of sweetness, and to blend the two properly. He
repeatedly asserted that a sense of music and mechanical skill must be
united to complete such a work; and especially pointed out how
admirably Lenz had succeeded in the long drawn mournful tones. Nothing
could be more difficult than to produce feeling and harmony, while
working by the _metronome_; for a musician, playing as his sense of
music dictates, never plays with a _metronome_, and is not therefore
checked in his musical expression. He was on the point of showing how
waltzes were constructed and nailed close together, and that the
outside was made of soft alder wood, while in the inside there were
various kinds of wood, the grain of which was in different directions,
when his explanation was interrupted by hearing Franzl welcoming some
visitors outside, with more than usual eagerness. Lenz went out: it was
the Landlord of the "Lion," with his wife and Annele. The landlord
offered him his hand, and nodded with the consciousness that there was
no more to be said, when so dignified a person did a young man the
honour to survey for a quarter of an hour, a work on which he had
bestowed years of industry.
"So, you are really come at last?" was Lenz's greeting to Annele.
"Why at last?" asked she.
"What! have you forgotten that you promised me to come six weeks ago?"
"When?--I'm sure I don't remember."
"On the very day after my mother died; you said you would come soon."
"Yes, yes!--it must be so--no doubt I did. I felt that there was
something on my conscience, but I did not know what. Now this is it--of
course it is. But, good heavens! in a house like ours, you have no idea
of all the things that pass through my head." So said Annele, and Lenz
felt something like a sharp pain in his heart.
He had no leisure, however, to reflect at that moment as to what had
caused him either pain or pleasure; for now there were mutual greetings
on the part of the Doctor and the Landlord of the "Lion."
Annele had even some thoughts of following the town fashion, and
kissing the Doctors daughters, the friends whom she detested so
cordially--for they were always rather reserved with Annele.
Amanda, the daughter who cultivated herbs, had taken off her
broad-leaved hat, as if she had been at home; and now Annele did the
same, and she had much finer hair than all the other three put
together--indeed, she could sit on hers; and it was so long and so
luxuriant, that she wore it like a coronet in three thick plaits, and
looked remarkably well in it too.
Lenz first put in a pretty waltz, and then a gay melody out of Mozart's
"Magic Flute," which was set in a particular way--the "Song of the
Moor."
The Landlord growled out--"Hum! Hum!"
That was a high compliment; and he nodded and drew in his under lip, as
if he was tasting good wine.
"Very good!" said he, at last, in a pedantic tone, spreading out both
hands as if he were scattering the praise letter by letter. "Very good,
indeed!" These were important words, pronounced by such a man!
The Landlady crossed her hands on her breast, and looked at Lenz with
unparalleled admiration. "Well!--really I--to think that a man can make
a thing so cleverly, and such a young man too! and he stands there just
as if he was no better than the others. Remain just so. The best
ornament to a great artist is modesty. Go on your course--make more
instruments like that: you can do so if you like, I can tell you."
After this speech, she looked pleasantly at the Doctor's wife, inwardly
rejoicing thus:--"I suppose that stick of a woman--that hoppole--can't
speak a word; and if she were to speak, what would she say? It is
rather different, I imagine, when I say anything!"
Annele, too, took courage, and said--"You completed that fine clock
while your good mother was still alive, and her blessing rests on it. I
can easily understand how hard you must find it, to send it away into
the wide world. Do you know what has just occurred to me? You must
bring me that favourite tune of yours, and I will learn to play it on
the piano."
"I can lend you the piece," said the Doctor's eldest daughter, who had
heard Annele's last words.
"But we only have it arranged as a duett," said the second daughter.
"And I have only two hands," said Annele, pertly. The girls would have
gone on talking together if the Doctor had not looked at them gravely,
and made them a sign to be quiet, for the second piece was about to
begin.
When it was finished, they all went into the next room. Franzl had
placed on the table, cheese, wine, and bread and butter. The Landlord
said--"Lenz, tell me, honestly, for I don't mean to take advantage of
it, how much do you get for this musical instrument?"
"Two thousand two hundred gulden--money down. I don't make much by
it--I have devoted a great deal of time to it, and the outlay has also
been considerable; but when I make my next one, I expect to have more
profit."
"Do you intend to make another?"
"No; for I have not one ordered as yet."
"I cannot bespeak one, for I have no traffic with musical instruments:
so, as I say, I do not order one; but if you do make another, I think
it probable that I will buy it from you. I have a kind of idea as to
where I should dispose of it."
"Knowing that, I shall begin a new one with fresh spirit, and it shall
be even better than the last. Now I feel as if I could see this one go
with a light heart, although it takes with it the whole year that I
laboured at it."
"As I said before, I say again--not a word more, not a word less. With
me all is accurate and clear. I do not give the order; but it is
possible."
"That is quite enough for me, and makes me quite happy. Your Annele
said, just now, something of the same kind that I said to Pilgrim only
yesterday: 'I cannot tell you how it grieves me to send away a work in
which my mother felt so much interest.'"
Annele looked down modestly.
"And I will take an interest in it," said the Landlady, "just like your
mother." At these words the Doctor's wife and daughter looked at the
Landlady in surprise. The Landlord knit his brows fiercely, and cast a
glance of reproof at his wife; but the very pause that ensued, made the
words of the Landlady more insidious. Franzl, however, came to the
rescue, by pressing every one to eat and drink; and she was made quite
happy by Annele saying, that she might well be proud of having the
house so neat, that its lamented mistress was not missed in that
respect.
Franzl dried her eyes with her newly washed apron.
The Landlady soon thought of an appropriate question, and said--"Lenz,
has your uncle not been here yet? and is he not proud of your fine
clock?"
"He was here, but the only remark he made was, that I had sold it far
too cheap, and did not understand my own advantage."
Now nothing can answer better than to bring forward some absent person,
and especially one so generally disliked as Petrowitsch. The point now
was in what tone he was to be spoken of Annele and her mother had
already sharpened their tongues, when they were forced to silence by a
warning glance from the Landlord. The Doctor began to praise
Petrowitsch, saying that he affected to be rough because he dreaded
his own soft heart; and, turning to the Schoolmaster and Lenz, he
said--"Petrowitsch is like those trees that were not transformed into
coal at the Deluge, but yet have rich warm substance within: this is
just Petrowitsch." The Schoolmaster smiled assentingly, Lenz looked
puzzled, and the Landlord hemmed.
The Doctor's eldest daughter said--"Petrowitsch is fond of music, and
whoever likes music must have a good heart." Lenz nodded approvingly,
and Annele smiled sweetly. The Landlady could not stand this. She had
turned the conversation on such a fruitful subject, that she could not
permit others to snatch it from her; so she, too, praised Petrowitsch's
cleverness, and hinted that she was his confidant on most points;
whence it was pretty plainly to be seen that she was very clever
herself, so thoroughly to understand such a superior person, for it was
not every one that was capable of doing so. Annele, too, had a good
word to say, and praised Petrowitsch for his neatness, and always
wearing such fine linen, and making so many pleasant jokes; even
Bueble came in for a good morsel from this rich banquet of praise.
Annele described Petrowitsch as the most devoted friend of her
family,--indeed, shortly they made him out to be a perfect saint, and
only wanting a pair of wings to become an angel altogether. At last the
visit came to an end; the Schoolmaster accompanied the Doctor; Lenz
followed the Doctor as he went out, and said--
"Herr Doctor, I have a question to put to you, but you must not inquire
why I ask it."
"What is it, pray?"
"I should like to know what kind of plant _Edelweiss_ is."
"Do you know it, Amanda?" said the Doctor.
Amanda, colouring, said, "It is an Alpine plant which grows in snowy
regions; in fact it springs up under the snow; but I never saw it
growing."
"I should think not, child," answered the Doctor, smiling; "bold Alpine
hunters and shepherds alone venture to gather this strange plant on the
spot where it grows, and it is considered a sign of a bold spirit to
secure it. It is a singular, fine, and delicately formed plant, with
very little sap, and therefore more easily preserved, like our native
_Immortelle_; the flower is edged with white velvety leaves, and the
stalk is also covered with white down. The first time you come to see
me, Lenz, I can show you a specimen of the little plant; its Latin name
is _Leontopodium Alpinum_, which is called in Germany Loewenfuss
(Lionfoot). I don't know whence its German name is derived, unless I
can find it in some book; but at all events it is a prettier one than
the Latin denomination."
Lenz thanked the Doctor, who went away with his family.
When they were all fairly gone, the Landlady stayed in the kitchen with
Franzl, and could not say enough in praise of the neatness and
regularity, and orderly state in which everything there was kept. "But,
indeed, you are now in the place of a mother in this house," said she,
with one of her magpie cackles (as Pilgrim called the worthy woman's
laugh); "you well deserve that Lenz should have a high opinion of you,
and entrust you with all his keys and belongings, and have no secret
hid from you."
"Indeed, he has none almost--only one."
"Really! is it possible? May I ask what it is?"
"I don't quite know myself: when he came home from the funeral, he was
rummaging in the next room in a press, of which his mother always kept
the key herself, and when I called out to him, he shut the door in my
face; and after searching for some time, he locked up every thing
again, and when he leaves the house he always tries the lock of the
press, to see whether it is fast. He is not at all mistrustful
naturally."
The Landlady inwardly chuckled and gave a little sharp laugh: "All
right, no doubt the old woman has hoarded up a stocking full of gold;
who knows how much? Come to see me," said the Landlady in a
condescending manner. "I hope you will come whenever you like, and if
you want to borrow anything, I shall never forgive you so long as I
live, if you go to any other house but mine for it. Your brother often
arrives at our door with his cart of shingles; can I give him any
message from you?"
"Yes! I think he might sometimes come here to look after me."
"Rely upon my telling him so; and if he has not time I will send for
you. Many Kunslingers come to us,--they are sensible people,--at least
I like to talk to them best of all. If the Kunslingers were only rich,
they would be famed far and near. They often speak of you, and are
pleased when I tell them how highly you are respected here."
The Landlady drew breath; Franzl stood looking at her, and would gladly
have lent her some of her own breath, but she had scarcely any left;
she laid her hand on her heart, to show her agitation, for speak she
could not: but what has happened all of a sudden in the kitchen? It
seems as if merry Kunslinger faces were laughing from all the crockery,
and the handsome shining copper kettle, and pans, had become trumpets,
and playing loudly, and the funnels puffing and blowing, and the pretty
white china coffeepot sticking its arm in its side, dancing like the
Buergermeister's wife--Franzl's godmother. Heavens! it tumbles! but
Franzl luckily caught the obstreporous coffeepot before it fell.
The Landlady rose, and concluded by saying, "Now, God be with you,
Franzl! It does one good to have a chat with a good old friend once
more. I am far more at my ease with you here, than in the other room
with the Doctor, and his upsetting young ladies, who can do nothing but
play the piano, and give themselves airs. Good bye, Franzl!"
The musical clock in the next room never played more or sweeter
melodies, than at this moment sounded in Franzl's heart; she could have
sung and danced from joy--she stared at the fire and laughed, and then
she again looked out of the kitchen window after the Landlady. "What an
admirable woman that is,--the most looked up to in the whole country,
and yet she said herself, that I was her good old friend!"
When Franzl laid the cloth for dinner in the next room, she looked once
more into the glass, like a girl just come home from a ball; she wished
to see how Franzl looked--the Landlady's good old friend! She could not
swallow a morsel of the comfortable dinner she had prepared; her
appetite was satisfied--more than satisfied--for she had swallowed the
fat Landlady whole.