KEVENHÜLLER
In the year 1770, in Germany, the afterwards learned and accomplished
Kevenhüller was born. He was the son of a count, and could have lived in
lofty palaces and ridden at the Emperor’s side if he had so wished; but
he had not.
He could have liked to fasten windmill sails on the castle’s highest
tower, turn the hall into a locksmith’s workshop, and the boudoir into
a watch-maker’s. He would have liked to fill the castle with whirling
wheels and working levers. But when he could not do it he left all
the pomp and apprenticed himself to a watch-maker. There he learned
everything there was to learn about cogwheels, springs, and pendulums.
He learned to make sun-dials and star-dials, clocks with singing
canary-birds and horn-blowing shepherds, chimes which filled a whole
church-tower with their wonderful machinery, and watch-works so small
that they could be set in a locket.
When he had got his patent of mastership, he bound his knapsack on his
back, took his stick in his hand, and wandered from place to place to
study everything that went with rollers and wheels. Kevenhüller was no
ordinary watch-maker; he wished to be a great inventor and to improve the
world.
When he had so wandered through many lands, he turned his steps towards
Värmland, to there study mill-wheels and mining. One beautiful summer
morning it so happened that he was crossing the market-place of Karlstad.
But that same beautiful summer morning it had pleased the wood-nymph to
extend her walk as far as the town. The noble lady came also across the
market-place from the opposite direction, and so met Kevenhüller.
That was a meeting for a watch-maker’s apprentice. She had shining, green
eyes, and a mass of light hair, which almost reached the ground, and she
was dressed in green, changeable silk. She was the most beautiful woman
Kevenhüller had ever seen.
He stood as if he had lost his wits, and stared at her as she came
towards him.
She came direct from the deepest thicket of the wood, where the ferns are
as high as trees, where the giant firs shut out the sun, so that it can
only fall in golden drops on the yellow moss.
I should like to have been in Kevenhüller’s place, to see her as she came
with ferns and pine-needles tangled in her yellow hair and a little black
snake about her neck.
How the people must have stared at her! Horses bolted, frightened by her
long, floating hair. The street boys ran after her. The men dropped their
meat-axes to gape at her.
She herself went calm and majestic, only smiling a little at the
excitement, so that Kevenhüller saw her small, pointed teeth shine
between her red lips.
She had hung a cloak over her shoulders so that none should see who she
was; but as ill-luck would have it, she had forgotten to cover her tail.
It dragged along the paving stones.
Kevenhüller saw the tail; he was sorry that a noble lady should make
herself the laughing-stock of the town; so he bowed and said courteously:—
“Would it not please your Grace to lift your train?”
The wood-nymph was touched, not only by his kindness, but by his
politeness. She stopped before him and looked at him, so that he thought
that shining sparks passed from her eyes into his brain. “Kevenhüller,”
she said, “hereafter you shall be able with your two hands to execute
whatever work you will, but only one of each kind.”
She said it and she could keep her word. For who does not know that the
wood-nymph has the power to give genius and wonderful powers to those who
win her favor?
Kevenhüller remained in Karlstad and hired a workshop there. He hammered
and worked night and day. In a week he had made a wonder. It was a
carriage, which went by itself. It went up hill and down hill, went fast
or slow, could be steered and turned, be stopped and started, as one
wished.
Kevenhüller became famous. He was so proud of his carriage that he
journeyed up to Stockholm to show it to the king. He did not need to wait
for post-horses nor to scold ostlers. He proudly rode in his own carriage
and was there in a few hours.
He rode right up to the palace, and the king came out with his court
ladies and gentlemen and looked at him. They could not praise him enough.
The king then said: “You might give me that carriage, Kevenhüller.” And
although he answered no, the king persisted and wished to have the
carriage.
Then Kevenhüller saw that in the king’s train stood a court lady with
light hair and a green dress. He recognized her, and he understood that
it was she who had advised the king to ask him for his carriage. He was
in despair. He could not bear that another should have his carriage, nor
did he dare to say no to the king. Therefore he drove it with such speed
against the palace wall that it was broken into a thousand pieces.
When he came home to Karlstad he tried to make another carriage. But he
could not. Then he was dismayed at the gift the wood-nymph had given him.
He had left the life of ease at his father’s castle to be a benefactor to
many, not to make wonders which only one could use. What good was it to
him to be a great master, yes, the greatest of all masters, if he could
not duplicate his marvels so that they were of use to thousands.
And he so longed for quiet, sensible work that he became a stone-cutter
and mason. It was then he built the great stone tower down by the west
bridge, and he meant to build walls and portals and courtyards, ramparts
and turrets, so that a veritable castle should stand by the Klar River.
And there he should realize his childhood’s dream. Everything which had
to do with industry and handicraft should have a place in the castle
halls. White millers and blacksmiths, watchmakers with green shades
before their strained eyes, dyers with dark hands, weavers, turners,
filers,—all should have their work-shops in his castle.
And everything went well. Of the stones he himself had hewn he had with
his own hand built the tower. He had fastened windmill sails on it,—for
the tower was to be a mill,—and now he wanted to begin on the smithy.
But one day he stood and watched how the light, strong wings turned
before the wind. Then his old longing came over him.
He shut himself in in his workshop, tasted no food, took no rest, and
worked unceasingly. At the end of a week he had made a new marvel.
One day he climbed up on the roof of his tower and began to fasten wings
to his shoulders.
Two street boys saw him, and they gave a cry which was heard through the
whole town. They started off; panting, they ran up the streets and down
the streets, knocking on all the doors, and screaming as they ran:—
“Kevenhüller is going to fly! Kevenhüller is going to fly!”
He stood calmly on the tower-roof and fastened on his wings, and in the
meantime crowds of people came running through the narrow streets of
old Karlstad. Soon the bridge was black with them. The market-place was
packed, and the banks of the river swarmed with people.
Kevenhüller at last got his wings on and set out. He gave a couple of
flaps with them, and then he was out in the air. He lay and floated high
above the earth.
He drew in the air with long breaths; it was strong and pure. His breast
expanded, and the old knights’ blood began to seethe in him. He tumbled
like a pigeon, he hovered like a hawk, his flight was as swift as the
swallow’s, as sure as the falcon’s. If he had only been able to make
such a pair of wings for every one of them! If he had only been able to
give them all the power to raise themselves in this pure air! He could
not enjoy it alone. Ah, that wood-nymph,—if he could only meet her!
Then he saw, with eyes which were almost blinded by the dazzling
sunlight, how some one came flying towards him. Great wings like his own,
and between the wings floated a human body. He saw floating yellow hair,
billowy green silk, wild shining eyes. It was she, it was she!
Kevenhüller did not stop to consider. With furious speed he threw himself
upon her to kiss her or to strike her,—he was not sure which,—but at any
rate to force her to remove the curse from his existence. He did not
look where he was going; he saw only the flying hair and the wild eyes.
He came close up to her and stretched out his arms to seize her. But his
wings caught in hers, and hers were the stronger. His wings were torn
and destroyed; he himself was swung round and hurled down, he knew not
whither.
When he returned to consciousness he lay on the roof of his own tower,
with the broken flying-machine by his side. He had flown right against
his own mill; the sails had caught him, whirled him round a couple of
times, and then thrown him down on the tower roof.
So that was the end.
Kevenhüller was again a desperate man. He could not bear the thought of
honest work, and he did not dare to use his magic power. If he should
make another wonder and should then destroy it, his heart would break
with sorrow. And if he did not destroy it, he would certainly go mad at
the thought that he could not do good to others with it.
He looked up his knapsack and stick, let the mill stand as it was, and
decided to go out and search for the wood-nymph.
In the course of his journeyings he came to Ekeby, a few years before the
major’s wife was driven out. There he was well received, and there he
remained. The memories of his childhood came back to him, and he allowed
them to call him count. His hair grew gray and his brain slept. He was so
old that he could no longer believe in the feats of his youth. He was not
the man who could work wonders. It was not he who had made the automatic
carriage and the flying-machine. Oh, no,—tales, tales!
But then it happened that the major’s wife was driven from Ekeby, and
the pensioners were masters of the great estate. Then a life began there
which had never been worse. A storm passed over the land; men warred on
earth, and souls in heaven. Wolves came from Dovre with witches on their
backs, and the wood-nymph came to Ekeby.
The pensioners did not recognize her. They thought that she was a poor
and distressed woman whom a cruel mother-in-law had hunted to despair.
So they gave her shelter, revered her like a queen, and loved her like a
child.
Kevenhüller alone saw who she was. At first he was dazzled like the
others. But one day she wore a dress of green, shimmering silk, and when
she had that on, Kevenhüller recognized her.
There she sat on silken cushions, and all the old men made themselves
ridiculous to serve her. One was cook and another footman; one reader,
one court-musician, one shoemaker; they all had their occupations.
They said she was ill, the odious witch; but Kevenhüller knew what that
illness meant. She was laughing at them all.
He warned the pensioners against her. “Look at her small, pointed teeth,”
he said, “and her wild, shining eyes. She is the wood-nymph,—all evil is
about in these terrible times. I tell you she is the wood-nymph, come
hither for our ruin. I have seen her before.”
But when Kevenhüller saw the wood-nymph and had recognized her, the
desire for work came over him. It began to burn and seethe in his brain;
his fingers ached with longing to bend themselves about hammer and
file; he could hold out no longer. With a bitter heart he put on his
working-blouse and shut himself in in an old smithy, which was to be his
workshop.
A cry went out from Ekeby over the whole of Värmland:—
“Kevenhüller has begun to work!”
A new wonder was to see the light. What should it be? Will he teach us to
walk on the water, or to raise a ladder to the stars?
One night, the first or second of October, he had the wonder ready. He
came out of the workshop and had it in his hand. It was a wheel which
turned incessantly; as it turned, the spokes glowed like fire, and it
gave out warmth and light. Kevenhüller had made a sun. When he came out
of the workshop with it, the night grew so light that the sparrows began
to chirp and the clouds to burn as if at dawn.
There should never again be darkness or cold on earth. His head whirled
when he thought of it. The sun would continue to rise and set, but when
it disappeared, thousands and thousands of his fire-wheels should flame
through the land, and the air would quiver with warmth, as on the hottest
summer-day. Harvests should ripen in midwinter; wild strawberries should
cover the hillsides the whole year round; the ice should never bind the
water.
His fire-wheel should create a new world. It should be furs to the poor
and a sun to the miners. It should give power to the mills, life to
nature, a new, rich, and happy existence to mankind. But at the same time
he knew that it was all a dream and that the wood-nymph would never let
him duplicate his wheel. And in his anger and longing for revenge, he
thought that he would kill her, and then he no longer knew what he was
doing.
He went to the main building, and in the hall under the stairs he put
down his fire-wheel. It was his intention to set fire to the house and
burn up the witch in it.
Then he went back to his workshop and sat there silently listening.
There was shouting and crying outside. Now they could see that a great
deed was done.
Yes, run, scream, ring the alarm! But she is burning in there, the
wood-nymph whom you laid on silken cushions.
May she writhe in torment, may she flee before the flames from room to
room! Ah, how the green silk will blaze, and how the flames will play in
her torrents of hair! Courage, flames! courage! Catch her, set fire to
her! Witches burn! Fear not her magic, flames! Let her burn! There is
one who for her sake must burn his whole life through.
Bells rang, wagons came rattling, pumps were brought out, water was
carried up from the lake, people came running from all the neighboring
villages. There were cries and wailings and commands; that was the roof,
which had fallen in; there was the terrible crackling and roaring of a
fire. But nothing disturbed Kevenhüller. He sat on the chopping-block and
rubbed his hands.
Then he heard a crash, as if the heavens had fallen, and he started up in
triumph. “Now it is done!” he cried. “Now she cannot escape; now she is
crushed by the beams or burned up by the flames. Now it is done.”
And he thought of the honor and glory of Ekeby which had had to be
sacrificed to get her out of the world,—the magnificent halls, where
so much happiness had dwelt, the tables which had groaned under dainty
dishes, the precious old furniture, silver and china, which could never
be replaced—
And then he sprang up with a cry. His fire-wheel, his sun, the model on
which everything depended, had he not put it under the stairs to cause
the fire?
Kevenhüller looked down on himself, paralyzed with dismay.
“Am I going mad?” he said. “How could I do such a thing?”
At the same moment the door of the workshop opened and the wood-nymph
walked in.
She stood on the threshold, smiling and fair. Her green dress had neither
hole nor stain, no smoke darkened her yellow hair. She was just as he
had seen her in the market-place at Karlstad in his young days; her tail
hung between her feet, and she had all the wildness and fragrance of the
wood about her.
“Ekeby is burning,” she said, and laughed.
Kevenhüller had the sledge-hammer lifted and meant to throw it at her
head, but then he saw that she had his fire-wheel in her hand.
“See what I have saved for you,” she said.
Kevenhüller threw himself on his knees before her.
“You have broken my carriage, you have rent my wings, and you have ruined
my life. Have grace, have pity on me!”
She climbed up on the bench and sat there, just as young and mischievous
as when he saw her first.
“I see that you know who I am,” she said.
“I know you, I have always known you,” said the unfortunate man; “you
are genius. But set me free! Take back your gift! Let me be an ordinary
person! Why do you persecute me? Why do you destroy me?”
“Madman,” said the wood-nymph, “I have never wished you any harm. I gave
you a great reward; but I can also take it from you if you wish. But
consider well. You will repent it.”
“No, no!” he cried; “take from me the power of working wonders!”
“First, you must destroy this,” she said, and threw the fire-wheel on the
ground in front of him.
He did not hesitate. He swung the sledge-hammer over the shining sun;
sparks flew about the room, splinters and flames danced about him, and
then his last wonder lay in fragments.
“Yes, so I take my gift from you,” said the wood-nymph. As she stood in
the door and the glare from the fire streamed over her, he looked at her
for the last time. More beautiful than ever before, she seemed to him,
and no longer malicious, only stern and proud.
“Madman,” she said, “did I ever forbid you to let others copy your works?
I only wished to protect the man of genius from a mechanic’s labor.”
Whereupon she went. Kevenhüller was insane for a couple of days. Then he
was as usual again.
But in his madness he had burned down Ekeby. No one was hurt. Still, it
was a great sorrow to the pensioners that the hospitable home, where they
had enjoyed so many good things, should suffer such injury in their time.