Kitabı oku: «Joseph in the Snow, and The Clockmaker. In Three Volumes. Vol. II.», sayfa 2

CHAPTER III.
WORK AND GOOD DEEDS

The nearest neighbour – and he was a good way off – the beadle, had sent up something to eat; for it is here the custom of the country for the nearest neighbour to prepare food, and to send it to the mourners after the funeral, under the idea that on such an occasion people are too much occupied to think of it themselves; indeed, during funeral obsequies, and for three hours afterwards, it is not customary to light any fires. The beadle's daughter brought the dinner herself. "Thank you, Kathrine, and thank your parents also from me. Take away the dinner, I will eat again when I am hungry; now, I really cannot."

"You must at all events try to do so, for that is the custom," said Franzl; "you must put it to your lips. Sit down, Kathrine; in the presence of a mourner you must always sit, and not stand. Young people now-a-days no longer know what is customary, and what is not. You must talk, Kathrine, too, for it is bad luck to be silent when a mourner is in the room, so say something."

The robust, cherry cheeked girl, blushing scarlet, stammered, "I really can't," and then burst out crying.

Lenz fixed his eyes on her, on which she threw her apron over her face.

"Compose yourself," said he kindly; "thank God, every day of your life, that you still have your parents. Now I have taken some of the soup."

"You must taste the other dishes also," urged Franzl.

Lenz did as she wished, though it was a painful effort; he then rose, and the girl did the same, saying: "Do not be angry with me, Lenz, I ought to have tried to comfort you, but – but – "

"I know; thank you. I can't speak much either, just now."

"May God preserve you! My father told me to say that he hoped you would come to us; he cannot leave the house, as he has a bad foot."

"I will see: when I feel able I will come."

The girl left the room, and Lenz paced up and down, stretching forth his hands, as if expecting some one to take hold of them, but no one did so; then his eyes rested on his tools, and more particularly on a certain file which hung on a nail by itself; he shivered as he laid hold of it, for something was now in contact with his hand.

This file was the most precious heritage he possessed. There was an indenture in its maple handle imprinted by his father's hand, for he had worked with this same tool for more than forty seven years, and liked to show it, and often said: "It seems scarcely credible that the wooden handle should, in the course of years, become indented in this way by the pressure of the fingers." Whenever a stranger came to call, his mother used to exhibit the singular looking tool.

The doctor, in the valley below, who had a collection of old fashioned clocks of the Black Forest, often begged to have the file, to hang it up in his cabinet, but the father never would consent to part with it, and still less the mother and son after his death. After his father's burial, when the son was sitting alone with his mother, she said: "Lenz, we must no longer grieve, we must bear our affliction with patience. Take your father's file, and set to work – 'Watch and pray,' say the Scriptures, 'for the night cometh when no man can work.' Be thankful that you have an honest trade already, and not one still to seek. A thousand times your father used to say: 'It is such a good thing to rise in the morning, and to know that your work is waiting for you; and while I am filing, I file away all useless splinters out of my head; and when I hammer, I knock on the head all sad thoughts, and away they fly!'"

These were his mother's words, and, in recalling them at this moment, she seemed to say them once more: "If I could only recall thus every word she ever said to me!"

So Lenz began to work busily.

Franzl was standing outside with Kathrine, saying: "I am so glad that you were the first person to bring food here, it is a good omen – for the person who gives you the first morsel of food in such a case, is sure to – , but I won't say it out; we must not forestall such matters. Come back in the evening, for it must be you who say good night to him; and you must say it three times over, and then it has effect. Hush! what is that? Our Heavenly Father in the Seventh Heaven above! I declare he is at work on the day of the funeral! No one knows that young man thoroughly, not even I, who have been with him from his childhood; he has singular ideas which no one can understand, but the kindest heart in the world. But don't tell any one that he is working to-day, for it might bring him into bad odour. Do you hear? Come back for the dishes to-night, and then take care to speak to him properly; you can talk well enough generally."

Franzl was interrupted by Lenz opening the door, and saying: "Franzl, if any visitor comes, say that I can see no one but Pilgrim. So, you are not gone yet, Kathrine?"

"I am just going," said she, and ran hastily down the hill. Lenz went back into the room, and worked on busily, while Franzl was in a state of incessant perplexity at the strange young man, who had been first crying, as if his heart would break, and was now hard at work. It was certainly not from hardheartedness, nor from avarice, so what could be the reason?

"My old head is not wise enough to find out," said Franzl, turning to ask her old mistress what she was to think about it; but she clasped her hands in sorrow, on suddenly remembering that the mother was dead.

Franzl's heart sunk when she saw visitors arrive; the schoolmaster, some of the choir, and various others. She dismissed them all, with a sorrowful face, and would gladly have stopped their ears if she could, that they might not hear Lenz at work. She looked out anxiously for Pilgrim, who had great influence over him, and would, no doubt, take the file out of his hand; but Pilgrim did not come. Franzl, however, had now a lucky thought: there was no necessity for her to stay at home, so she walked along the path far enough to prevent any one hearing the filing and hammering, and she dismissed those whom she met coming to the house.

Lenz, however, found that active employment produced calmness and composure, and he did not leave off till evening, when he went down into the valley, past the scattered houses, to his friend the painter, Pilgrim; but half way he turned round suddenly, as if he had heard some one calling him, and yet all was still around. No sound was heard but the waterwagtail – called by the country people here Hockenock– twittering incessantly in the reeds, and the yellow hammer, perched on the young green shoots, on the top of the fir trees, whistling its solitary note, and glancing round with its bright eyes. There are no larks here, either in the valley or in the meadows beyond; they only soar on the high land above, where cornfields are cultivated.

Mists were rising in the meadows, but these thin vapours are only visible in front and behind, and never in the small space which a person occupies standing, or walking.

Lenz went quickly along the valley, and did not stop till the sun had gone down behind the mountains, and then he said: "It is setting for the first time over her grave." The evening bell rung out; he took off his hat and proceeded on his way. He paused at a bend in the valley, and, concealed by a bush, looked up at a solitary cottage. On a bench before the door was seated a man with whom we are already acquainted – the clockmaker, Faller. He had a child on his knee, whom he was playing with, and his sister was seated behind him, whose husband had gone to foreign parts. She was nursing an infant, and fondly kissing its little hands.

"Good evening, Faller;" said Lenz in his usual clear tenor voice.

"Oh! is that really you?" replied a bass voice; "we were just speaking of you; Lisbeth said you would forget us in your grief, and I said, on the contrary, it is the very thing that would make him think of us."

"You are right, I come to you for that very reason; I remembered that Hurgel's house is to be sold to-morrow, I will be your security if you choose to buy it. You will then also be nearer me."

"Capital! famous! so you are going to stay where you are?"

"Why not?"

"People said that you were going to travel now, for a year or more."

"Who said so?"

"I think it was your uncle; but I am not quite sure."

"Really: well perhaps I may; if I go away, you must live in my house."

"You had far better stay at home, it is too late to travel – "

"And marry soon," added the young wife.

"Yes; for then all taste for travelling is at an end – a married man has too many links at home. There is no doubt you will prosper, Lenz, for thinking of me in all your sorrow; your mother in heaven will bless you for it; no single minute passes without my thinking of her; in all things her first thought was for others, and you take after her – God will bless you."

"Kindness brings its own blessing; my walk here, and what we have agreed on, has lightened my heart already. – Lisbeth, have you anything to eat in the house? I begin to feel hungry for the first time to-day."

"I will boil you a couple of eggs."

"That will be quite sufficient."

Lenz ate with a tolerable appetite, and his hosts were delighted to see him enjoy his meal.

Faller's mother, in spite of her son's remonstrances, persisted in asking Lenz to give her some of his mother's clothes.

Lenz promised to do so.

Faller would not be prevented walking a good part of the way home with him; but scarcely had he gone twenty steps, when he gave a shrill whistle. His sister asked what was the matter? He called out in answer, that he would not return home tonight.

"Where are you to be?" said Lenz.

"With you."

The two friends walked on together in silence; the moon shone brightly, the owls in the wood hooted, but strains of cheerful music proceeded from the village.

"It would never do if every one lamented for one person: " said Lenz, "God be praised that each one has his own joys and sorrows!"

"Your mother said that through you;" replied Faller.

"Stop;" said Lenz, "would you not like to tell your betrothed bride, that you can now buy the house?"

"Indeed I should – come with me – you will see a degree of joy seldom to be seen in this world."

"Climb up the hill alone to her cottage, for I am not in a mood for joy today, and I feel quite exhausted. I will wait here; now go quickly, and don't be long of returning."

Faller went up the hill hurriedly, and Lenz seated himself on a heap of stones beside the path, and, like the dew now softly sinking on the grass and the trees, making everything revive, so a sensation of pure, heavenly dew, seemed to refresh the soul of the solitary man.

Far up the hill, a light now sparkled through the window of the cottage which had been hitherto dark, and hope and joy passed into the hearts of the betrothed, who had so long felt desolate and hopeless. Lenz too was happy.

There is no greater felicity on earth than doing good to others. Faller ran back, panting for breath, and described all the joy with which his news was received; the old father and the bride threw open the window, and shouted down into the valley, "May a thousand blessings attend you, worthy man!" and the bride first cried, and then laughed.

The two friends now pursued their way for some time, each following his own train of thought. Faller went along with a firm step: in his whole bearing there was something vigorous and determined, and while Lenz walked beside him, he involuntarily held himself more upright.

At the spot where the hill shuts out the valley Lenz turned to take a last look at the churchyard, and sighed heavily.

"My father lies there also, and he was not spared to me so long as yours;" said Faller.

Lenz went first up the hill. What is that white figure moving on the summit of the hill? who can it be? is it possible? is it not true that his mother is dead? She must have left the cold grave.

The mourner gazed in awe and trembling.

"Good evening, Lenz;" exclaimed a voice. It is the beadle's daughter Kathrine.

"How is it that you are here again?"

"I have been with Franzl, for she asked our maid to sit with her, she was so sad and solitary. She is old, so she is nervous and timid. I would have no fear if your mother were really to come again. Good night, Lenz; good night; good night."

Kathrine had said good night three times, just as Franzl had desired her; this means something, and who knows what may come of it?

CHAPTER IV.
EACH ONE FOR HIMSELF

A mild evening after a hot day was refreshing every one, and families were assembled on benches outside their houses, but a considerable number were sitting on the stone balustrade of the bridge; for wherever a bridge is in or near a village, it is the place where people meet for their evening's rest, and their evening's talk. Not only must every one pass this way from whichever side they come, but the rippling of the water beneath chimes in well with a pleasant flow of talk. There were various kinds of wood lying to soak in the stream, in order that the sap of the timber might exude from the fibres, and the wood neither shrink nor warp when made into clock cases; the men on the bridge understood well how to soak the timber, though each had their own plan. They were still talking this evening – and that is saying a good deal – of Lenz's mother, but even more of the propriety of Lenz soon marrying. The women praised Lenz highly, and many of their panegyrics were also intended as a hint to the other men to act in as praiseworthy a manner; for where there is good conduct it is always thoroughly appreciated. But the men said: "Oh! no doubt he is a very worthy man, but – too soft hearted." The girls – with the exception of those who had already declared lovers – said nothing. Suddenly a report was circulated from door to door, no one knew whence it came, and also on the bridge, that Lenz had worked incessantly on this very day, when his mother had been buried. The women lamented the avarice shown by so good a man; the men on the contrary tried to defend him. The conversation, however, soon turned on the weather, and worldly matters, and these are fruitful subjects, for no man can tell the result of either the one or the other. They went on chatting pleasantly till they wished each other a quiet night, leaving the stars in the sky, and the affairs in the world, to follow their appointed course.

The most agreeable spot of all is far down the valley, in the pretty garden of a house newly built in the style of a railway station, where the aromatic fragrance of plants in the night air is wonderfully pleasant. This is not surprising, for all kinds of medical herbs grow and flourish here. We are in the Doctor's garden, who also keeps a dispensary. The Doctor is a child of the village, the son of a clockmaker; his wife is from the capital, but she, as well as her husband, who seems fairly to have taken root in his native valley, has become quite at home here, and the Doctor's old mother, who still lives with them, often says that she thinks her daughter-in-law must have existed long ago in the world, and been born in the Black Forest, she is so completely at home there, and so well acquainted with all the ways and customs of the district. The Doctor is also Mayor of the village, and his wife likes this title the best. He has four children. The eldest son, having no turn for what is called study, learned watchmaking, and is now working in French Switzerland. The three daughters are the most refined girls in the country, but not less industrious on that account. Amanda, the eldest, is her father's chief assistant in his dispensary, and it is also her office to keep in order the garden, where many healing herbs are growing. Bertha and Minna are active in the household, but also occupy themselves busily in preparing straw plaiting, which goes to Italy, and returns thence in the shape of the finest Leghorn bonnets.

A stranger is in the garden with the family this evening – a young engineer – called the Techniker in the village. He is brother to the two sons-in-law of the landlord of the "Golden Lion." One of his brothers is a rich wood merchant in a neighbouring town, the other resides on the south side of the Black Forest, and is proprietor of a Spa there, and also of a considerable property. It is said that the Technicker wishes to marry Annele, the only remaining daughter of the landlord of the "Lion."

"Quite right, Herr Starr, I like that," said the Doctor to the Techniker. The sound of the Doctor's voice shows that he is a corpulent man. "It is not fair," said he, "to enjoy the beauties of the mountains and valleys, and yet show no interest in the life and actions of those who inhabit them. The world nowadays has far too many restless superficial tendencies towards incessant travelling. For my part I feel no inclination to knock about the world in distant countries; I feel happy and contented within my own narrow circle. I have been obliged to give up my old passion, that of collecting plants, and I did so cheerfully, for since then I know more of my fellow creatures. Each must take his own share in the division of labour; my countrymen will not comprehend this, yet it is the point in which our native industry fails."

"May I ask you to explain this more fully to me?"

"The subject is quite simple. Our clockmaking is, like all house labour, the natural result of the want of fruitfulness in our district, and the strict entail of property; the younger sons, and all who possess no capital but their industry, must find an equivalent for their labour, in order to gain their daily bread. Hence proceeds naturally the close and steady carefulness so universal among us. Our forest furnishes the best timber both for houses and for machinery, and so long as the old-fashioned Jockele clocks found a brisk sale, a clockmaker, in conjunction with his wife and children who painted the numbers on the dials, could finish a clock entirely at home. The more, however, that metal clocks are adopted, superseding the old Jockele clocks, the more are the profits shared by strangers. Indeed, in France and America, and more especially in Saxony, we have now a strong rival trade. We ought to adhere more to wooden clocks, which as you know do not work by weights, but by springs; for this purpose close union is necessary. The ancient engravers had a chief, whose office it was to keep them united, and such a man is sadly required here; all those who are now living scattered among the mountains, should unite in one close confederacy, and work into each other's hands. This, however, will not be easily effected here. In Switzerland a single watch passes through a hundred and twenty hands before it is completed. Even the very perseverance they display, which is undoubtedly a virtue in itself, prevents my worthy countrymen making much progress. It is only by frugality, and unparalleled industry, that our trade has been carried on. It is difficult to make any impression on our clockmakers, who have often shown a singular degree of susceptibility; they must be gently dealt with; a rude or careless grasp might injure their feelings, like the delicate works of a clock, and it is a serious matter when the mainspring snaps."

"I think," replied the young man, "that it would be profitable to give the clocks here a form more agreeable to the eye, and more calculated to ornament a room."

"It would be a great improvement," said Bertha, the second daughter. "I lived with my aunt for a year in the capital, and wherever I went I met my countrywoman, a Black Forest clock, banished like a Cinderella to the kitchen. French clocks in their gold and alabaster were paraded in every drawing-room; they were often not wound up, or else I was told they did not go well; whereas my countrywoman in the kitchen was steady and well regulated."

"This Cinderella ought to be rescued," said the young man, "but I hope she will retain her virtue in gay rooms, and go as correctly as ever."

The Doctor did not appear to enter into the scheme of the young people, for he began to relate to the Techniker the various singular peculiarities of the inhabitants of the district. He had been long enough in other countries to perceive the eccentricities of his own, and was yet so imbued with home feelings, that he knew how to value the hidden qualities of his countrymen; he spoke pure German, but with the accent of the dialect of the Black Forest.

"Good evening to you all," was the company greeted by a person passing by.

"Oh! is that you, Pilgrim? wait a minute;" called out the Doctor. The man remained standing beside the hedge, and the Doctor asked, "How is Lenz?"

"I don't know. I have not seen him since the funeral to-day; I have just come from the 'Lion,' where I stupidly got into a rage on his account."

"Really! What was the matter?"

"They say there that Lenz has been working all day at home, and they abuse him and declare he is miserly. Lenz miserly! it is enough to make a man go distracted."

"Don't allow yourself to be annoyed; you and I, and many others besides, know that Lenz is an excellent man. Was Petrowitsch with Lenz to-day?"

"No; I thought he was, and therefore I did not go to him. Herr Doctor, if you have time to-morrow, may I beg of you to come to see me in passing? I want to show you something that I have made."

"Very well. I will come."

"Good night, all!"

"Good night, Pilgrim! a good night's rest to you."

The pedestrian went on his way.

"Send me my songs back to-morrow," called out Bertha to him.

"I won't fail to send them," answered Pilgrim, and soon he was heard in the distance whistling with sweetness and skill.

"There you have a strange enough person," said the Doctor to the Techniker. "He is a painter, and is Lenz's best friend, whose mother was interred today. This Pilgrim has talents, which have, however, never borne fruit. The history of his life is remarkable."

"I wish you would relate it to me."

"Another time, when we are alone."

"Oh, no! we should like to hear it again," exclaimed the wife and daughters; and so the Doctor began.