THE GREAT MUSICAL CLOCK PLAYS ITS OLD PIECES,
AND HAS NEW ONES ADDED.
The report that the famous Magic Flute, the great musical clock of Lenz
of the Morgenhalde, would start in a few days for its place of
destination in Russia, set the whole valley in a ferment. A perfect
pilgrimage began to Lenz's house. Every one was anxious to admire this
noble work once more, before it disappeared forever. Franzl had as much
as she could do to welcome the guests, shake hands with them,--wiping
her hands first on her apron every time,--and usher them into the
sitting-room. There were not chairs enough in the house to seat them
all. Even Uncle Petrovitsch came, and with him not only Bubby, which
was a matter of course, but Ibrahim, the old man's companion at cards,
who was said to have turned Turk during his fifty years' absence from
home. The two old men said little. Ibrahim sat smoking a long Turkish
pipe, motionless except for an occasional contraction of his eyebrows;
while Petrovitsch was as constant in his attendance upon him as Bubby
in attendance upon his master. Ibrahim was the only human being who
possessed any influence over Petrovitsch, and he preserved it only by
never exercising it. He shook off all applicants who hoped through him
to gain access to the rich man. They played cards together every
evening, cash down. Petrovitsch was stirred to special activity and
officiousness by Ibrahim's imperturbable tranquillity, and now seemed
desirous of doing the honors of his old homestead. He stood by the
work-bench during the playing of a long piece, and amused himself with
observing the tools which lay upon it, as well as those hanging upon
the wall. At last he took down the familiar file with the well-worn
handle. "Was not this his file?" he said to Lenz, when the piece was
ended.
"Yes, my poor father's."
"I will buy it of you."
"You are not in earnest, uncle. You know I could not sell it."
"Not to me?"
"Not even to you,--begging your pardon."
"Give it to me, then, and let me give you something in return."
"I hardly know how to answer you, uncle. Really, I cannot let it go out
of the house."
"Stay there then," he said to the unconscious tool, as he returned it
to its place; and shortly after he and Ibrahim went down the hill.
People came from a great distance, some from the next valley, to hear
and admire the clock. Franzl was especially delighted with the praise
bestowed upon it by the weight-maker, one of the chief men of her
village. "Such a piece of workmanship has not left our part of the
country for a hundred years," he declared. "What a pity it has got to
be silent through the journey, and cannot play from here to Odessa, to
tell every one it comes from the Black Forest, where science has been
brought to such perfection!" Franzl's face glowed with pleasure. It
takes the Knuslingers to talk like that. She told of the patience and
zeal with which Lenz had labored on this work; how he had often got up
in the night to carry out some idea that had come into his mind. There
were secrets in that clock that no one could fathom. She, of course,
was initiated into its mysteries. No maiden's heart ever beat more
tumultuously at a first declaration of love than Franzl's when the
first man of her village said, "And the house, Franzl, whence proceeds
a work so delicate and exact, the house must have been well ordered
too; you have contributed your share, Franzl."
"With all deference to others, I must say there is no one quite equal
to us Knuslingers. This is the only man who has said just the right
thing. The others stood there like cows before a new barn door. Moo!
moo! Thank Heaven, I come from Knuslingen!"--so spoke Franzl's whole
manner. You could read it in her hand, which she laid upon her beating
heart, and in the frequent raising of her eyes to heaven.
Lenz could not help laughing at her seasoning every meal with
congratulations that he was now so famous in Knuslingen.
Knuslingen was not such a small place either. It had two chapels of
ease, at Fuchsberg and at Knebringen.
"To-morrow evening I shall close the case and send off The Magic
Flute," said Lenz.
"So soon?" lamented Franzl, and cast imploring glances at the great
case, as if entreating it to stay yet a little longer in the house to
which it brought so much honor.
"I wonder," continued Lenz, "why the doctor's family has not been;
and--and--the ladies from the Lion promised to come too."
Franzl rubbed her forehead and shrugged her shoulders, lamenting her
ignorance. It was not for the like of her to know the secrets of great
houses.
Annele of the Lion had long been urging her mother to make the visit,
but the landlady would not without her husband. Majesty is wanting
where he is not present. Majesty, however, does not seek; it requires
to be sought.
But now Annele learned through certain trusty informers that on this
last day the doctor's family was going to Lenz's house. Majesty,
therefore, must consent. This was the day of all others,--the day when
the aristocracy would be present. The mother and daughter determined
not to start till they had seen the doctor's family go by. Nothing of
this diplomacy was revealed to his Majesty, whose punctiliousness and
dignity would have taken umbrage thereat.
"Here comes the thou-teacher," cried Franzl, early the next morning, as
she was looking out of her kitchen window.
The elders of the village called the young schoolmaster the
thou-teacher, because, to the great scandal of some good people, he
addressed all who were unmarried with the familiar "thou." His
companions called him the singing-master,--a title more to his taste.
He was the founder and moving spirit of the Liederkranz, and with Lenz,
Pilgrim, and Faller made the best quartette. Lenz gave him a hearty
welcome, and Franzl begged him to stay a couple of hours to help her
receive the numerous visitors who would be sure to come in the course
of the morning.
"Yes, do stay," urged Lenz. "You cannot think how badly I feel at
losing my clock; it is like bidding good by to a brother or a child."
"You carry your sentiment too far," objected the schoolmaster, "in thus
putting a piece of your heart into everything you make. You will soon
start some fresh work. For my part, I do not fancy these wound-up
organs, as you know." Franzl made a wry face, but the teacher went on.
"They are for children and for a people in its childhood. Even a piano
I don't think much of, because the tones are ready-made. A piece of
music played on the piano is not much better than the whistling of a
song that should be sung. The works of your clocks have tongues and
lungs, but no heart."
Franzl left the room in indignation. Thank Heaven, there are still
Knuslingers in the world, to rate things at their proper value. She
heard the two friends within singing the touching song, "Morgen muss
ich fort von hier." Lenz's voice was a pure, though not very strong
tenor, which the schoolmaster's powerful bass would have drowned had he
let out the full force of his voice. They were interrupted by Franzl
calling through the open door, "The doctor's family is coming."
The school-teacher, as master of ceremonies, advanced in front of the
house to receive them.
The doctor entered with his wife and three daughters, and said at once,
in his kindly way, which, without being in the least dictatorial, yet
admitted of no refusal, that Lenz must not waste his valuable time in
talking, but must set the clock going without delay.
It was done, and all were evidently delighted. When the first piece was
finished, Lenz was fairly overwhelmed by the praises bestowed upon
him,--such hearty praises, too, evidently not spoken merely from
politeness.
"Grandmother sends you her congratulations," said the eldest daughter;
while Bertha cried, "How many voices in one case!"
"Don't you wish you had as many?" replied her father, jokingly.
"You have a true talent for music," continued the eldest, her brown
eyes shining with honest pleasure.
"If my father had only let me have a violin to play on when I was a
boy, I really think I might have done something in the way of music,"
said Lenz.
"You have done something now," said the stout doctor, as he laid his
hand kindly on the young man's shoulder.
The schoolmaster, whose chief delight was in the construction of the
works, relieved Lenz of the trouble of explaining them to the ladies by
describing, better than the manufacturer himself could have done, how
the delicacies of crescendo and diminuendo were introduced, and what a
nice ear was required to make the tones powerful without harshness, and
to preserve the distinction between the long and the short notes. He
dwelt repeatedly upon the accuracy of ear and mechanical skill
necessary to produce such a work, called attention to the admirable
expression of the pathetic passages, and reminded his listeners of the
difficulty of bringing out the expression, and, at the same time,
following the strokes of the metronome. This mechanism had not the
advantage enjoyed by the performer of dispensing with the metronome
and varying the time to suit the music. He was going on to explain how
the various qualities of tone were rendered; the solidity of the
barrel-work; the necessity of fitting the cylinders so firmly together
that they could not give way; the reasons for having the soft alder
outside and various woods of different fibres inside; when his
explanations were interrupted by the voice of Franzl without, giving a
peculiarly hearty welcome to some new-comers. Lenz went to the door,
and found the landlord of the Lion, with his wife and daughter. The
landlord shook hands with him, and gave a nod at the same time, as much
as to say that no higher compliment could be paid than for a gentleman
of well-known pride and honor to spend a quarter of an hour in
examining a work to which a young man had devoted years of industry.
"So you have come at last!" was Lenz's greeting to Annele.
"Why at last?" she asked.
"Have you forgotten that you promised to come six weeks ago?"
"When? I cannot remember."
"On the day after my mother's death you said you would come soon."
"Yes, yes; so I did. I have had a feeling there was something on my
mind, I could not tell what. Yes, yes; that is it. But, dear me, you
have no idea how fast one thing crowds out another in our house." Lenz
felt a pang through his heart at Annele's light words.
But he had no time to analyze his feelings of pleasure and pain, for
the ladies now began to exchange greetings. Annele seemed inclined to
follow the city fashion and kiss the doctor's daughters,--those friends
whom, however, she hated most cordially for the reserve that always
appeared in their manner towards her. Amanda, the botanist, had taken
off her broad hat, quite as if she were at home, and Annele followed
her example. Annele's hair was more abundant than that of all the other
ladies put together, and long enough to sit on. She held up her head,
with its triple crowns of braids, and looked about her with an air of
satisfaction.
Lenz put in a new barrel, and made The Magic Flute, which was generally
rather grave, play the merry song of the Moors, "Das klinget so
herrlich, das klinget so schoen."
"H'm, h'm!" growled the landlord, and a long speech he made out of his
growl, nodding his head the while, and drawing in his under lip, as if
tasting a delicate wine.
"Very well," he added, after a pause, and spreading out both hands as
he said it, as if he would literally be openhanded in bestowing his
commendations,--"very well indeed." Those were weighty words, coming
from mine host.
The landlady folded her hands, and looked admiringly at Lenz. "To think
that such a work should be made by human hands, and by so young a man
too! and yet he acts as if he were nothing more than the rest of the
world. Keep so always; nothing becomes a great artist so well as
modesty. Go on as you have begun; make more such works. You have a
great gift, my word for it."
That poverty-stricken individual, that may-pole, cannot use such
language, said her triumphant glance at the doctor's wife, after this
speech. And, if she did, what would her words signify? It is very
different coming from me.
"Your mother's blessing rests on your noble work, Lenz," said Annele,
"for she lived to see it finished. How hard for you to part with it!
Bring me the music, won't you? and I will learn to play it on the
piano."
"I can lend you the notes," said the doctor's eldest daughter, who had
heard Annele's concluding words.
"But ours is arranged for four hands," said Bertha.
"And I have but two," said Annele, snappishly.
The girls would have gone on chatting longer, had not the doctor
commanded silence. A new barrel had been put in, and the second piece
was beginning.
When this was ended, and the guests had gone into the other room to
partake of the bread and butter, cheese and wine that Franzl had
prepared, the landlord began upon business.
"How much do you receive for your musical clock, Lenz? You need not
hesitate to tell me; I won't take any unfair advantage of it."
"Twenty-two hundred florins. I don't gain much at that price, for the
work has cost me a great outlay of time and money. If I make another, I
shall drive a better bargain."
"Have you begun another?"
"No, I have had no order."
"I cannot give you an order, for musical clocks are out of my line of
business. I cannot order one, therefore, as I say; but, if you make
another, perhaps I will buy it. I think I could dispose of it."
"If that is so, I will begin a second work at once that shall be better
than the first. The idea almost reconciles me to having this one go and
carry away all the years I have spent on it."
"Not a word more or less have I to say about the matter. I am always
accurate and precise. I give you no order, but--there is a
possibility."
"That is quite enough; I am perfectly satisfied. Annele has said just
what I was saying to Pilgrim yesterday, that I could not tell how badly
I felt at having to part with the work my mother took such delight in."
Annele cast her eyes modestly to the ground.
"I shall take the same delight in it your mother did," said the
landlady.
The doctor's wife and daughters looked at her in surprise as she spoke,
the landlord frowned threateningly at his wife, and the pause that
ensued gave additional weight to her words. Franzl relieved the general
embarrassment by hospitably pressing refreshments upon every one, and
was radiant with happiness when Annele commended her for keeping the
house in such good order that no one would imagine it was without a
mistress. The old woman put her newly washed apron to her eyes.
The landlady hit upon an excellent topic in asking Lenz if his uncle
had been to see his work, and if he were not pleased with it.
"He came," answered Lenz, "but said nothing, except that I had sold it
too cheap, and did not know how to look after my own interests."
There could not have been a happier inspiration than to turn the
conversation upon an absent friend, especially one so open to criticism
as Petrovitsch. The only question was what tone should be assumed in
speaking of him. Annele and her mother had already opened their mouths
when a warning look from the landlord silenced them. The doctor began
to praise the absent uncle. He only put on a rough exterior, said his
apologist, to hide his kind heart. "Petrovitsch," he continued, turning
to Lenz and the schoolmaster, "is like the coals which once were trees;
they have rich warmth within, and so has Petrovitsch." The schoolmaster
smiled assent, Lenz looked embarrassed, and the landlord growled.
"Petrovitsch likes music," said the doctor's eldest daughter, "and no
one who likes music can be hard-hearted." Lenz nodded approvingly, and
Annele gave a gracious smile. The landlady was not to be outdone. It
was she who had turned the conversation upon this fertile subject, and
she was not going to let it be appropriated by others. She praised
Petrovitsch's cleverness, and hinted that she possessed his entire
confidence, which naturally suggested her cleverness also in
appreciating this sage as the rest of the world could not. Annele, too,
must bring her offering of praise. Petrovitsch was so neat, she said;
he wore such fine linen and made such good jokes. A crumb even fell to
Bubby's share from this rich feast of compliments. Annele described
Petrovitsch as the perfect model of a kind, true family friend,--almost
a saint, in fact. He wanted nothing finally but a pair of wings to
become an angel outright.
The visit came to an end at last. The schoolmaster escorted the
doctor's daughters, and Lenz joined the doctor, who was walking behind.
"I have a question to ask you, doctor," said he, "but you must not seek
to know my reason for asking."
"What may it be?"
"I want to know what kind of a plant Edelweiss is."
"Don't you know, Amanda?" asked the doctor.
"It is an alpine plant," answered Amanda, blushing, "that is said to
grow on the line of perpetual snow,--in fact, under the snow. I never
saw a living specimen of it."
"I believe you, child," replied the doctor, smiling; "only the boldest
alpine goatherds and hunters venture to pick the hardy little plant
from its native soil. The possession of one is a proof of unusual
daring. It is a peculiar plant of delicate construction, and containing
very little sap, so that it can be preserved a long while, like our
everlasting. The blossom is surrounded by white velvety leaves, and
even the stem has a down upon it. I can show you the plant if you will
come to my house. The Latin name is _Leontopodium alpinum_, which means
Alpine lion's-foot. I don't know where the German name comes from, but
it is certainly prettier than the Latin."
Lenz expressed his thanks, and took leave of the doctor and his family,
who continued down the mountain.
The landlady lingered in the kitchen with Franzl after the rest had
gone. She could not find words to express her admiration of the old
woman's neatness and orderliness. "You are like a mother in the house,"
she said with her magpie laugh, as Pilgrim called it; "Lenz ought to
hold you in great honor, and confide everything to you. He should have
no secret from you."
"He does not; that is--only one."
"So there is one! May I know what it is?"
"I don't know myself. When he came home from his mother's funeral, he
rummaged in the chest that the mistress would never let any one have
the key of; and when I called him, he pushed to the door and rummaged
awhile longer, locking everything up again tight. Whenever he goes out
now he always tries the lid, to see that it is fast locked. Yet he is
not naturally suspicious."
The landlady cleared her throat and gave utterance to another little
magpie laugh. The old mistress must have laid by a stocking full of
gold, she thought; who knows how much? "Come and see me," she said,
condescendingly; "come whenever you like. If you should want anything,
do not fail to come to me for it. I should never forgive you if you
were to apply to any one else. Your brother often comes to us with his
wares; have you any message for him?"
"Yes; I should think he might come up and see me sometimes."
"Be sure I will tell him so, and if he has not time to come so far, I
will send for you to come down. We have a great many Knuslingers at our
house, and very sensible people they are; at least I like to talk with
them better than with any one else. If the Knuslingers were only rich,
they would be famous the country round. We often speak of you, and your
townspeople like to hear of the esteem in which you are held."
When the landlady paused for breath, Franzl gazed at her with rapture,
and would gladly have supplied her with her own, had she had any to
spare; but hers too was exhausted. She could only lay her hand on her
heart; to speak was quite out of her power. What a change had come over
the kitchen! Merry Knuslingen faces seemed to be laughing from all
the pots and pans; the shining copper kettles turned into drums and
began to play; the tin funnels blew a blast, and the beautiful white
coffee-pot stuck its arms akimbo and danced just like her godmother,
the old burgomaster's wife: oh, it has danced itself off its feet!
Franzl seized the excitable coffee-pot just in time to save it from
falling.
"Good by, Franzl," concluded the landlady, rising. "It does one good to
chat with an old friend. I enjoy myself far better with you than in the
doctor's parlor, with his affected daughters, who can do nothing but
play the piano and make up faces. Good by, Franzl."
The musical clock played no sweeter melodies than were sounding in
Franzl's heart at this moment. She could have sung and danced for joy.
She looked at the fire and smiled, and then turned again to the kitchen
window to watch the landlady's retreating figure. What a fine woman she
is, the first in the whole town, and yet she called herself your good
old friend! While Franzl was laying the cloth, she stole a glance at
herself in the glass, as a maiden might who is returning from her first
ball. So looks Franzl, the best friend of the landlady of the Lion. She
could not taste a morsel of the good things she had provided; she was
satisfied,--more than satisfied.