Kitabı oku: «Joseph in the Snow, and The Clockmaker. In Three Volumes. Vol. II.», sayfa 5

CHAPTER IX.
A PARLEY WITH FRIENDS

The journeymen and the apprentice, whom Lenz had sent home to their parents during his domestic troubles, were already busy in the workshop when Lenz awoke in the morning. It had never before happened that they were before their master at their work. Indeed, when Lenz opened the window the sun was already high in the heavens, and five or six clocks that were in the room, struck seven at the same moment. It seemed to Lenz as if his wish had been fulfilled, that he might sleep for a whole week. Between yesterday and today, weeks indeed seemed to have passed. The time appeared so long to Lenz, because such unwonted feelings had entered his heart.

Franzl brought him his breakfast, sat down uninvited beside him, and asked, "What shall I dress for your dinner today?"

"For me? Nothing. I don't intend to dine at home. Get what you like for yourself. Only think, Franzl, that kind Pilgrim – "

"Yes; he was here yesterday," interrupted Franzl, "and waited for you a long time."

"Did he? and I was at his house. What do you think, Franzl? the kindhearted fellow painted a portrait of my mother yesterday, secretly; you will be surprised to see how like life she looks: one might almost fancy she must begin to speak."

"I knew that he was doing it, for he made me send him, privately, your mother's Sunday jacket, and cap, and neckhandkerchief. You have locked up her string of garnets with other things, of which I know nothing. It is no affair of mine: I have no wish to know everything; but when I do know a thing, and it is to be kept secret, you might cut me in two, and I would not say a syllable. Has any one ferreted out of me that I knew what Pilgrim was doing? Did I say a single word to you to account for his not coming here? You may entrust me with anything."

As, however, Lenz did not entrust her with anything, she asked: "Where are you going today? and where were you last night?"

Lenz looked at her with surprise, and made no answer.

"Probably you were with your uncle Petrowitsch?" continued Franzl.

Lenz shook his head, but vouchsafed no other reply, and Franzl smoothed their mutual difficulty by saying: "I have no more time to spare; I must go to the garden to cut beans for our dinner. I have engaged a charwoman to help me a little; for we must collect our potatoes to-day. You approve of this, don't you?"

"Yes, yes – do everything just as you think best."

Lenz went to his workshop, but his head today seemed in considerable confusion. He could not please himself in the choice of his tools, and he even threw aside, pettishly, his father's file, which he had hitherto considered such a treasure.

The great clock played the music of the "Magic Flute."

"Who set these works again in motion?" asked Lenz quickly, in surprise.

"I did," said the apprentice.

Lenz said nothing. The usual routine must be resumed. The world does not stand still because a heart has ceased to beat for ever, or because a mourner would fain be still for ever, too. Lenz continued to work assiduously. The journeyman mentioned that a young artificer in Freiberg had come home from his travels, and that it was his intention to erect a manufactory of clocks at his own expense, and to settle in this vicinity.

"I might sell my whole stock to him," thought Lenz, "and then I could see with my own eyes, at last, how the world looks." But this idea of leaving home only recurred to his mind as a remembrance of something that he had wished once on a time, but long ago. He no longer felt any inward impulse in the matter; and precisely because his uncle had spread a report of his intention to travel, in order to constrain him to do so, he felt perverse and unwilling to go. He once more took up his father's file and looked at it intently, as if to say – "During his whole life, the man who guided this file, with the exception of a short absence in his early youth, remained stationary on this spot, and lived happily. To be sure – he married young, which is a different thing."

Usually Lenz sent his apprentice to the Foundry on the other side of the hill, but to-day he went himself. When he returned, he did not sit long at his work. It would be very wrong not to go to see Pilgrim. Before noon he went down the hill, through the village, and across the meadow to Pilgrim. His worthy comrade was seated at his easel, painting. He rose – run his two hands through his long straight sandy hair, and gave Lenz his right hand; who now told him what joy the portrait had caused him, and how kind and thoughtful he considered his friend in giving him so agreeable a surprise.

"Pooh!" said Pilgrim, carelessly plunging both hands into his wide pockets. "I benefit myself by it. It is so desperately tiresome, year after year, to paint our primitive village; the church, with its mitre for a church tower, and so large a hole that a dial-plate might go into it; and the mower with his scythe stands there always on the same spot everlastingly; and the woman with the child going to meet him never reaches him; the child stretches out its hands, but it never joins its father; and the booby of a man stands there with his back to them, and I have no notion what kind of face he has – and yet hundreds and hundreds of times, I have been obliged to paint this confounded landscape of verdigris hue. So it is: the world will always have the same thing over and over again. I do believe I could paint the thing blindfold, and yet I must go at it again and again. Now I have pleased myself by painting your mother, though I no longer take portraits, for I have no fancy for any of the faces round here, and I would not be so spiteful towards generations yet unborn, as to force them to look at such physiognomies. Your uncle is right in positively refusing to be painted. Not long ago, when a travelling artist applied to him, he said – 'No, no, or I shall probably be hung up in some pawnbroker's shop, at some distant day, along with Napoleon and old Fritz.' That man has most singular, quaint ideas!"

"What have you to do with my uncle just now? You painted my mother's picture for me, I know."

"Certainly, if you choose to accept of it Come, place yourself here. I am not quite satisfied with the eyes – I cannot catch the right expression. You have exactly your mother's eyes; so sit down there – so – just there. Now sit still, and think of something pleasant, or of giving away something. It was famous in you to become security for Faller, Think of that, and then you will have your mother's look that warmed the heart. Don't smile. But she was so good, so sincere, so – so – . Now, now I have it. Don't move an eyelash. – Now I can't paint any more when you are crying."

"My eyes overflowed," said Lenz, in an apologetic tone, "for I could not help thinking that my mother's eyes – "

"Never mind! – I have finished. I know now what to do. Come, let us be done working – besides, it is noon already. You will dine with me, I hope?"

"No – don't take it amiss; but I must dine with uncle Petrowitsch.

"I am never angry with you. Now tell me your plans."

Lenz explained – that he had half a mind to go from home for a couple of years; and he implored his friend to fulfil their former project, which they had been obliged to renounce, and to accompany him. Perhaps they might now conquer fortune in the same way they had hoped then.

"It won't do; – don't go," said Pilgrim, disapprovingly. "Rely upon it, Lenz, that neither you nor I are born to great riches, and so much the better, probably, for us. My host, Don Bastian, is a proper man of the world, who can gain money: the fellow has been half through the world, and knows no more of it than a cow does of the Catechism. Wherever he arrived, or walked, or stood, his sole thought was – 'How is money to be got here? – how can I best save or cheat?' And he is no worse than the rest of the world. The Spanish peasants are just as cunning and as stupid as the German ones, and their chief glory is to fleece their neighbours. When Don Bastian came home, the only thing he had acquired was his money, and see how profitably he has laid it out – a man like that is sure to prosper."

"And why should not we?"

"Those who take pleasure in things that gold cannot buy, do not require money. See! all the superfluous clinking sounds I hear proceed from my guitar, and it is enough for me. A few days ago I heard Don Bastian's youngest boy say the Ten Commandments, and a very sagacious thought occurred to me – 'What is the first Commandment?' – 'Thou shalt have none other gods but me.' Now, every man can have but one god. You and I love our professions. You are happy when you have finished a work of which the mechanism is perfect; and I too, in the same way – though it often goes sadly against the grain with me to paint that one everlasting village, with the same everlasting girl, and the same woman and child – but still I am glad when it is done; and when I am painting it I am as merry as a bird – do you see? – as that goldfinch sitting on the roof of the church. And he who takes pleasure in what he does, and throws his whole heart and soul into it, cannot possibly spare time to think of how to become rich, and to speculate, and to overreach others. 'Thou shalt have none other gods but me' – that is a wise command. In fact, the other god is generally the Devil, and you may see the truth of that by your uncle Petrowitsch."

"Come and live with me," was the only answer that Lenz made to his friend. "I will build a couple of rooms for you upstairs."

"You mean well and kindly, but it would not do. Lenz, you are a singular man. You are a born husband and father of a family: you must marry, and already I rejoice at the thoughts of telling your children stories of my travels. And when I become old, and can no longer earn my bread, then I shall be only too thankful if you will take me into your house, and cram me with good things till I die. But now keep your eyes open, and remember I shall not be offended; on the contrary, it is my advice, that you depreciate me before your uncle, who hates me; and then, perhaps, he will leave you something in his will. You have quite talent enough to accept a legacy. I have a remarkable talent in that line myself; but unluckily all my relations are poor, or at least rich only in children. I am the only one of the family who has anything to leave, so you see I am a rich uncle like Petrowitsch."

His friend cheered Lenz, just as a passing sunny shower at that moment refreshed all nature. They waited till the rain was over, and then they went together to the "Lion," at the door of which they parted, for Pilgrim said he did not wish to go into the room where Petrowitsch was, along with Lenz. A carriage was standing before the inn, and the landlord accompanied a young man to the door, giving him two fingers in token of farewell, and touching his cap.

The young man looked up, and waved his hand to the wife and daughter in the room above, desiring the driver to drive on, and to wait for him at the Doctor's house.

When he passed the two friends, he bowed and took off his cap.

"Do you know who that is?" asked Pilgrim.

"No."

"Nor I either," said Pilgrim. "Who is that stranger?" said he to the Landlord.

"The brother of my son-in-law."

"Oh, oh!" whispered Pilgrim to Lenz. "Now I remember – he is one of Annele's admirers."

Lenz went hurriedly upstairs. Pilgrim did not see the expression of his face.

CHAPTER X.
A DINNER WITH PETROWITSCH

Petrowitsch was not yet arrived. In the mean time Lenz seated himself at his uncle's table, and conversed with the family and Pilgrim.

Annele was unusually sparing of her words today; indeed, when Lenz offered her his hand when he came in, she affected to be too busy to take it. No doubt her hand is promised, and she can no longer give it to any one, even in common courtesy. And yet she does not look much like a bride.

Uncle Petrowitsch now arrived; at least his dog appeared as his precursor – a mongrel, between a dachs and a terrier.

"Good day, Lenz!" said his uncle, rather crabbedly. "I expected you yesterday. Did you forget that I had invited you?"

"Indeed I did. I must confess that it quite went out of my head."

"At such a time it is allowable to forget, otherwise nothing is so inexcusable in a man of business as want of memory. During all my life I never either forgot anything, or lost anything – I never threw away a pin, or mislaid a pocket handkerchief A man ought always to make use of his seven senses. Now let us go to dinner."

Annele brought in the soup – the uncle filled two plates out of the tureen, and then said to Lenz, "You may take the remainder." Petrowitsch then took a newspaper out of his pocket, that he called for at the Post-office every day himself, and cut its leaves. While the soup was cooling, and after placing his tobacco bag and his meerschaum pipe on the paper, he began his dinner.

"You see," said he, after the soup, crumbling a quantity of bread into a plate for some one who had not yet appeared – "you see this is the way in which I like to live. If you dine at an inn, you are sure to have a clean cloth every day; and when my score is paid, day after day, then I am my own master." When the meat was put on the table, Petrowitsch cut a slice for Lenz with his own hands, then one for himself, and another for the unknown friend. He must have been on very intimate terms with him, for he put his finger into the plate, shook his head, and added some cold water to the meat. Now the friend came to light. "Come, Büble!" said Petrowitsch to his dog. "Gently, gently! – don't be in a hurry, Büble! – take it quietly." He put the plate on the floor, and the dog ate his food comfortably till he had finished the last morsel, when he looked up at his master gratefully, licking his lips and wagging his tail.

From this moment Büble only got little bits. Petrowitsch said very little, and after dinner, when he had lighted his pipe and glanced over the newspaper, Lenz asked: "Uncle, why did you spread a report that I was about to leave the country?"

Petrowitsch puffed away at his pipe for some minutes placidly, blowing away the smoke; then he called Büble, who jumped on his knee, and patted him; at last he said – "Why do you find fault with me for saying so? You told me yourself that you wished to make up for the idleness of your youth, and to visit other countries."

"I don't remember saying that."

"I don't reproach you with your supineness – you were not your own master; but it would be well worth your while to travel now – you would learn a good deal. I don't force you to go – indeed I can't."

Lenz allowed himself to be persuaded by his uncle's bold assertion, that he had really told him he wished to travel, and begged him not to take it amiss that he had forgotten he had ever said so.

"Lenz, bring your chair a little nearer," whispered Petrowitsch confidentially; "no one need hear what we are talking about. Listen! if you will take my advice, don't marry at all."

"There is little chance of my thinking of such a thing at this moment, uncle."

"Young people like you never know what they would be at – there can be no doubt of that. Now, Lenz, take example by me. I am one of the happiest men in the world. I have just been six weeks at Baden-Baden, and now I return to enjoy myself here; and wherever I go, I am my own master, and the world must serve me; and there are no girls in these days worth a farthing: those who are simple and good bore a man to death – those who are shrewd and clever, require constant amusement and excitement – all day long, at every meal, they must have some fresh diversion. And then you hear them say, day after day – 'Goodness! how tiresome it is to manage a house – you men know nothing of such toil.' And then, in addition to all this, comes the plague of screaming babies, and relations, and school fees, and taxes."

"If the whole world thought like you, uncle, the human race would come to an end in a hundred years," said Lenz.

"Pooh! they would never die out," said old Petrowitsch, laughing, and filling his pipe with tobacco, pressing it down with a china stopper of antique shape. "Look, there goes Annele!" Lenz involuntarily started, he scarcely knew why; but his uncle continued, coolly – "No doubt, she is a vastly knowing little thing, always on the alert, and I call her my court jester. The kings of old were wise, for they kept jesters, whose office it was to make them laugh during meals. That is very healthy, and assists digestion. Annele is my court fool, and never fails to make me laugh."

When Lenz looked round. Pilgrim was gone. He seemed, indeed, resolved that his friend should disown him before Petrowitsch. Lenz, however, made a point of saying to his uncle, that he was a true friend of Pilgrim's, and intended always to be so.

The uncle said he was right, and commended his nephew; and Lenz was quite surprised when Petrowitsch even began to praise Pilgrim; adding, that he was something like himself, in some points, for he also disliked matrimony, and had a poor opinion of the female sex.

Büble now became very fidgety, and began to whine.

"Silence!" said Petrowitsch, angrily. "Have patience – we are going home immediately to take a nap. Down, down, Büble! Are you coming with me, Lenz?"

Lenz accompanied his uncle to his house – a large handsome building, in which no one lived but himself. The door opened of itself as if by magic, for the maid was obliged to be on the watch, and to open the door before her master had time to knock.

Lenz said – "Good bye!" to his uncle, who thanked him, yawning.

The young man was glad when he was again seated at his work the same afternoon. The house, which had seemed so desolate that he thought he could not possibly continue to live in it, now appeared to him once more like home – no real rest or peace is to be found in amusement elsewhere – a man is only really happy at home. He looked for a place to hang up his mother's picture; the best was just above his father's file, for there she could look down on him as he worked, and he could often look up at her.

"Mind you have the room tidy!" said Lenz to Franzl, who, with just indignation, replied – "It is always tidy!" Lenz did not choose to say that he had his own reasons for wishing it to be in particularly good order, for every hour he expected a visit from Annele and her mother, to see and hear his large clock, before it went forth into the wide world. Then he was resolved to ask her, in a straightforward manner – the straight way is always the best – whether the report about her and the Techniker had any foundation. He cannot tell, indeed, what gives him any right to ask such a question; but he feels that he must do so, and then he can talk to her in his own way, just as he may choose. Day after day passed and Annele did not come; and Lenz often went past the "Lion," but without going in, or even looking up at the window.

CHAPTER XI.
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 Büble 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 Büble 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.