Berthold Auerbach - Joseph in the Snow, and The Clockmaker. In Three Volumes. Vol. II.

"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.

"This Pilgrim is the son of a dial painter. Early left an orphan, he was educated by the old schoolmaster at the expense of the parish. He was, however, far more frequently with the clockmaker, Lenz of the Morgenhalde, than with the schoolmaster. Lenz's wife, who was buried today, was like a mother to the lad; and her only child, Lenz, was always like his brother. Pilgrim was considered quick and clever; whereas Lenz, with all his ability in his profession, has something vague and dreary in his nature; and who knows whether a great musical genius does not lie hidden in Lenz, and an equal talent for painting in Pilgrim! but it has not come to light yet in either of them. You really must hear Lenz sing some time: he sings the first tenor in the Choral Society, which has him chiefly to thank for having twice gained the Quartett Prize at a musical festival – once at Constance and another time at Freiberg. When the two lads were still half grown boys, Lenz became an apprentice to his father, and Pilgrim to a dial painter; but they still clung faithfully to their old companionship.

"In summer evenings, the two were to be seen together as certainly as the twin stars in the sky above us. They wandered together, singing and whistling, through the valley and over the hills; and in winter evenings, Pilgrim braved the snow and storm to go to Lenz; for the latter was obliged to stay at home, being somewhat spoiled by his mother – and no wonder, for he was the only child left out of five. The boys used to read together half the night; particularly books of travels. I have lent them many a book, for there was a great thirst for knowledge in both lads. When Pilgrim escaped the conscription – Lenz, as an only son, could not be drawn – they brought forward their plan to travel together through the world; for, with all their love of home, our people have an irrepressible desire to travel. On this occasion Lenz showed, for the first time, a degree of wilful obstinacy which no one had ever suspected. He refused positively to give up the journey, and his father was quite willing that he should go, but his mother was in despair; and as even the persuasions of the Pastor were fruitless, my aid was called in by the parents, and, if nothing else availed, I was to bring forward an array of medical experience to effect their purpose. I naturally sought some other resource.

"I had always enjoyed the entire confidence of the two inseparables, and they willingly imparted all their plans to me. Pilgrim was the prime mover. Lenz, with all his tenderness of feeling, is of a sound practical disposition – I mean, of course, within his own sphere – and, if not overpersuaded by others, he has sense and acuteness enough to know what is right, and a degree of perseverance in all he does which almost amounts to a virtue. Lenz was far from being as resolute to his parents, as he affected to be in Pilgrim's presence. Old Lenz wished that Pilgrim should regularly learn clockmaking, before beginning his travels with a stock to dispose of: for travelling merchants must of course be able to repair the clocks they may meet with, as well as those they dispose of. So Pilgrim learned clockmaking regularly. When, however, he had mastered what was absolutely indispensable, the project of the journey was all settled. Pilgrim had all sorts of plans in his head. At one time, his intention was to earn so much money in his travels, that he might enter the academy for painting as a pupil; then he proposed becoming an artist at once during his journey; and at last his grand purpose was to bring home a large sack of money, and to spend it freely among his own people; for, in fact, he had a great contempt for money, in so far as he was himself concerned. Moreover, at that time there was some love affair in his head. Greece – Athens, were the objects of his travels; and when he even named Athens, his eyes sparkled, and his cheeks flushed bright red. 'Athens!' said he often, 'does not the very sound of that name seem to transport us into lofty halls, where we ascend marble stairs?' He fancied that if he were to breathe this classical atmosphere, he would become another man, and, above all, a great artist. Of course I endeavoured to cure him of such wild delusions; and I so far succeeded, that he promised me to occupy himself solely in making money, and his other plans could be fulfilled hereafter. Old Lenz and I became his securities, for the value of the goods that he was to take with him. He set out alone on the journey, for Lenz, by our advice, stayed at home. 'I am like the river in the Black Forest which runs into the Black Sea!' said Pilgrim often. He hoped to introduce our forest clocks into the East and into Greece, where they had not hitherto met with the same success as in northern lands, and in the New World, It is very amusing to hear Pilgrim relate his progress through various countries, and through cities and villages, all hung round with Black Forest clocks, making them strike in the streets, while he eagerly looked round on every side. But this was his great fault: he was too anxious to see everything – customs, manners, fine buildings, beautiful landscapes; and this is a disadvantage to a merchant. The works in a clock never vary, even when carried over sea and land, and just as little do our countrymen, who are to be seen wandering in every zone, change their natures. To earn, and to save, and to live economically until they return home with a well-filled purse, when they can make up for their privations, – these are the fixed purposes of their hearts, and they care little how the world goes on around them. This is both prudent and necessary – it is impossible to carry different objects in the head at the same time."