From The Spectator.
THE CLOCKMAKERS OF THE SCHWARZWALD.
The Baden State Railway, running in an unbroken line from the Rhine plain at Mannheim to the shores of the Boden See at Constance, forms two sides of that part of the Grand Duchy of Baden which in Germany is called Badischer Schwarzwald. Along this line go great numbers of English tourists hurrying to Switzerland, and rushing back again to England, but they seldom set foot in any part of this district, except in the town of Freiburg, a pleasant point to break a long and somewhat tedious journey. The dark hills thickly covered with pine-trees, which the traveller sees from the windows of his carriage, generally serve to remind him of the grander mountains he has left, or of the peaks which he hopes to climb. But among these hills is much picturesque and quaint scenery, of a character at once unique and distinct from that of countries more frequented by the traveller. From any high ground, lofty hills can be seen extending towards the horizon, more or less clothed with black pine-forests, broken here and there by the lighter foliage in the valleys, or by the open patches of cultivated land. There are cottage farms, with huge black and spreading roofs, better built, and showing signs of greater prosperity and comfort than in most mountainous districts. The village houses are less thickly grouped, and everything indicates an active and industrious people. In the valleys are many charming landscapes; the scale is small, but the perfect union of water and rock, of wood and meadow, produces harmonious and delightful pictures. Among the thick and fragrant woods the scenes are different, more weird and wild, but none the less attractive. Among these woods and hills dwell a people who unite the simplicity and kindness of the mountaineer and agriculturist with the shrewdness and energy of the artisan of the town. They cultivate their land with surprising care, and work at the manufacture of clocks and watches, glass and straw articles, with a diligence which has been rewarded by great success. They are so energetic and desirous of doing well in life, that like the men of the Canton Graubünden and the Oetzthal Alps, they willingly leave their own country and go away to England, America, or France, where they work hard, chiefly at clocks and watches. But to this desire for bettering their condition is united a strong love of home, so that in three or four years they come back with sufficient money to buy themselves a piece of land, on which for the rest of their days they live; they settle down, and their children will do as they have done.
The first thing which a stranger does at Furtwangen is to see the exhibition of the Gewerbevereins, and at Tryberg the Gewerbe Hall, open from May to October. The latter is a wooden building of some taste, where every variety of clock can be seen which the ingenuity of the Schwarzwalder can devise or his fingers execute. Round the walls and on the tables are clocks of every sort. Nearly all are of wood, though here and there is a fragile one of straw or ivory. The first which attracts attention is a very fine specimen of wood-carving; the figures and design are cut in lime-wood, and it stands two feet high. The fingers and hours are of ivory. The attendant puts it to two o'clock, and it forthwith plays a melodious air, as of the most delicate flutes. The next is still larger, and as the hour strikes a miniature band plays "Der Wacht am Rhein." We pass on to one made of beach and walnut, the dark and light wood being charmingly blended. As the fingers touch the hour, two helmeted trumpeters step out and blow the reveille. Then there are cuckoos which strike up at the hour and thrushes who sing at the quarter, venerable monks standing beneath the belfry ring the hour when midnight comes. The automaton clock comes next, and we watch a sort of Pickwickian fat boy feed himself with rolls till three has finished striking. The taste and minuteness of the carving in the largest or the smallest point are very great; the regulator on the pendulum of the smallest clock represents, perhaps, an oak-leaf, or some simple, but still graceful object. Nor are more methodical and stronger-looking clocks wanting; they are of every kind; they will suit the kitchen or the boudoir. The excellence of the external work is equalled by that of the machinery, for having once gained a reputation, the inhabitants of these hills take care that it shall not be lost. The Gewerbeverein, or Union, guarantee the goodness of each clock which hangs on the walls.
Thirty years ago a really good little clock could have been bought for sixpence or eightpence, but now, with communication more easy, the small ones are sold for four or five shillings, the cheapest trumpeter for six pounds. Every workman has his special piece of work; one carves the figures, another prepares the
