byNathanielHawthorne
ANELDERLYMAN，withhisprettydaughteronhisarm，waspassing
alongthestreet，andemergedfromthegloomofthecloudyevening
intothelightthatfellacrossthepavementfromthewindowofa
smallshop。Itwasaprojectingwindow；andontheinsidewere
suspendedavarietyofwatches-pinchbeck，silver，andoneortwoof
gold-allwiththeirfacesturnedfromthestreet，asifchurlishly
disinclinedtoinformthewayfarerswhato’clockitwas。Seatedwithin
theshop，sidelongtothewindow，withhispalefacebentearnestly
oversomedelicatepieceofmechanism，onwhichwasthrownthe
concentratedlustreofashade-lamp，appearedayoungman。
“WhatcanOwenWarlandbeabout？”mutteredoldPeterHovenden-
himselfaretiredwatchmaker，andtheformermasterofthissameyoung
man，whoseoccupationhewasnowwonderingat。“Whatcanthefellowbe
about？Thesesixmonthspast，Ihavenevercomebyhisshopwithout
seeinghimjustassteadilyatworkasnow。Itwouldbeaflight
beyondhisusualfoolerytoseekforthePerpetualMotion。AndyetI
knowenoughofmyoldbusinesstobecertain，thatwhatheisnowso
busywithisnopartofthemachineryofawatch。”
“Perhaps，father。”saidAnnie，withoutshowingmuchinterestinthe
question，“Owenisinventinganewkindoftime-keeper。Iamsurehe
hasingenuityenough。”
“Pooh，child！hehasnotthesortofingenuitytoinventanything
betterthanaDutchtoy。”answeredherfather，whohadformerlybeen
puttomuchvexationbyOwenWarland’sirregulargenius。“Aplague
onsuchingenuity！AlltheeffectthateverIknewofitwas，tospoil
theaccuracyofsomeofthebestwatchesinmyshop。Hewouldturnthe
sunoutofitsorbit，andderangethewholecourseoftime，if，asI
saidbefore，hisingenuitycouldgraspanythingbiggerthana
child’stoy！”
“Hush，father！hehearsyou。”whisperedAnnie，pressingtheold
man’sarm。“Hisearsareasdelicateashisfeelings，andyouknowhow
easilydisturbedtheyare。Doletusmoveon。”
SoPeterHovendenandhisdaughterAnnieploddedon，without
furtherconversation，until，inaby-streetofthetown，theyfound
themselvespassingtheopendoorofablacksmith’sshop。Withinwas
seentheforge，nowblazingup，andilluminatingthehighanddusky
roof，andnowconfiningitslustretoanarrowprecinctofthe
coal-strewnfloor，accordingasthebreathofthebellowswaspuffed
forth，oragaininhaledintoitsvastleathernlungs。Intheintervals
ofbrightness，itwaseasytodistinguishobjectsinremotecornersof
theshop，andthehorse-shoesthathunguponthewall；inthe
momentarygloom，thefireseemedtobeglimmeringamidstthevagueness
ofun-enclosedspace。Movingaboutinthisredglareandalternate
dusk，wasthefigureoftheblacksmith，wellworthytobeviewedinso
picturesqueanaspectoflightandshade，wherethebrightblaze
struggledwiththeblacknight，asifeachwouldhavesnatchedhis
comelystrengthfromtheother。Anon，hedrewawhite-hotbarof
ironfromthecoals，laiditontheanvil，upliftedhisarmof
might，andwasseenenvelopedinthemyriadsofsparkswhichthe
strokesofhishammerscatteredintothesurroundinggloom。
“Now，thatisapleasantsight。”saidtheoldwatchmaker。“Iknow
whatitistoworkingold，butgivemetheworkeriniron，after
allissaidanddone。Hespendshislaboruponareality。Whatsay
you，daughterAnnie？”
“Praydon’tspeaksoloud，father。”whisperedAnnie。“Robert
Danforthwillhearyou。”
“Andwhatifheshouldhearme？”saidPeterHovenden；“Isayagain，
itisagoodandawholesomethingtodependuponmainstrengthand
reality，andtoearnone’sbreadwiththebareandbrawnyarmofa
blacksmith。Awatchmakergetshisbrainpuzzledbyhiswheelswithina
wheel，orloseshishealthorthenicetyofhiseyesight，aswasmy
case；andfindshimself，atmiddleage，oralittleafter，past
laborathisowntrade，andfitfornothingelse，yettoopoortolive
athisease。So，Isayonceagain，givememainstrengthformymoney。
Andthen，howittakesthenonsenseoutofaman！Didyoueverhearof
ablacksmithbeingsuchafoolasOwenWarland，yonder？”
“Wellsaid，uncleHovenden！”shoutedRobertDanforth，fromthe
forge，inafull，deep，merryvoice，thatmadetheroofreecho。“And
whatsaysMissAnnietothatdoctrine？She，Isuppose，willthinkita
genteelerbusinesstotinkerupalady’swatchthantoforgea
horse-shoeormakeagridiron！”
Anniedrewherfatheronward，withoutgivinghimtimeforreply。
ButwemustreturntoOwenWarland’sshop，andspendmore
meditationuponhishistoryandcharacterthaneitherPeter
Hovenden，orprobablyhisdaughterAnnie，orOwen’soldschool-fellow，
RobertDanforth，wouldhavethoughtduetososlightasubject。From
thetimethathislittlefingerscouldgraspapen-knife，Owenhad
beenremarkableforadelicateingenuity，whichsometimesproduced
prettyshapesinwood，principallyfiguresofflowersandbirds，and
sometimesseemedtoaimatthehiddenmysteriesofmechanism。Butit
wasalwaysforpurposesofgrace，andneverwithanymockeryofthe
useful。Hedidnot，likethecrowdofschool-boyartizans，construct
littlewindmillsontheangleofabarn，orwatermillsacrossthe
neighboringbrook。Thosewhodiscoveredsuchpeculiarityintheboy，
astothinkitworththeirwhiletoobservehimclosely，sometimessaw
reasontosupposethathewasattemptingtoimitatethebeautiful
movementsofnature，asexemplifiedintheflightofbirdsorthe
activityoflittleanimals。Itseemed，infact，anewdevelopmentof
theloveoftheBeautiful，suchasmighthavemadehimapoet，a
painter，orasculptor，andwhichwasascompletelyrefinedfromall
utilitariancoarseness，asitcouldhavebeenineitherofthefine
arts。Helookedwithsingulardistasteatthestiffandregular
processesofordinarymachinery。Beingoncecarriedtoseea
steam-engine，intheexpectationthathisintuitivecomprehensionof
mechanicalprinciplewouldbegratified，heturnedpale，andgrew
sick，asifsomethingmonstrousandunnaturalhadbeenpresentedto
him。Thishorrorwaspartlyowingtothesizeandterribleenergyof
theIronLaborer；forthecharacterofOwen’smindwasmicroscopic，
andtendednaturallytotheminute，inaccordancewithhis
diminutiveframe，andthemarvelloussmallnessanddelicatepowerof
hisfingers。Notthathissenseofbeautywastherebydiminished
intoasenseofprettiness。ThebeautifulIdeahasnorelationto
size，andmaybeasperfectlydevelopedinaspacetoominutefor
anybutmicroscopicinvestigation，aswithintheamplevergethatis
measuredbythearcoftherainbow。But，atallevents，this
characteristicminutenessinhisobjectsandaccomplishmentsmade
theworldevenmoreincapablethanitmightotherwisehavebeen，of
appreciatingOwenWarland’sgenius。Theboy’srelativessawnothing
bettertobedone-asperhapstherewasnot-thantobindhim
apprenticetoawatchmaker，hopingthathisstrangeingenuitymight
thusberegulated，andputtoutili-tarianpurposes。
PeterHovenden’sopinionofhisapprenticehasalreadybeen
expressed。Hecouldmakenothingofthelad。Owen’sapprehensionof
theprofessionalmysteries，itistrue，wasinconceivablyquick。But
healtogetherforgotordespisedthegrandobjectofawatchmaker’s
business，andcarednomoreforthemeasurementoftimethanifithad
beenmergedintoeternity。Solong，however，asheremainedunder
hisoldmaster’scare，Owen’slackofsturdinessmadeitpossible，
bystrictinjunctionsandsharpoversight，torestrainhiscreative
eccentricitywithinbounds。Butwhenhisapprenticeshipwasserved
out，andhehadtakenthelittleshopwhichPeterHovenden’sfailing
eyesightcompelledhimtorelinquish，thendidpeoplerecognizehow
unfitapersonwasOwenWarlandtoleadoldblindFatherTimealong
hisdailycourse。Oneofhismostrationalprojectswas，toconnect
amusicaloperationwiththemachineryofhiswatches，sothatallthe
harshdissonancesoflifemightberenderedtuneful，andeachflitting
momentfallintotheabyssofthePastingoldendropsofharmony。
Ifafamily-clockwasentrustedtohimforrepair-oneofthose
tall，ancientclocksthathavegrownnearlyalliedtohumannature，by
measuringoutthelifetimeofmanygenerations-hewouldtakeupon
himselftoarrangeadanceorfuneralprocessionoffiguresacrossits
venerableface，representingtwelvemirthfulormelancholyhours。
Severalfreaksofthiskindquitedestroyedtheyoungwatchmaker’s
creditwiththatsteadyandmatter-of-factclassofpeople，whohold
theopinionthattimeisnottobetrifledwith，whetherconsideredas
themediumofadvancementandprosperityinthisworld，orpreparation
forthenext。Hiscustomrapidlydiminished-amisfortune，however，
thatwasprobablyreckonedamonghisbetteraccidentsbyOwenWarland，
whowasbecomingmoreandmoreabsorbedinasecretoccupation，
whichdrewallhisscienceandmanualdexterityintoitself，and
likewisegavefullemploymenttothecharacteristictendenciesof
hisgenius。Thispursuithadalreadyconsumedmanymonths。
Aftertheoldwatchmakerandhisprettydaughterhadgazedat
him，outoftheobscurityofthestreet，OwenWarlandwasseized
withaflutteringofthenerves，whichmadehishandtrembletoo
violentlytoproceedwithsuchdelicatelaborashewasnowengaged
upon。
“ItwasAnnieherself！”murmuredhe。“Ishouldhaveknownbythis
throbbingofmyheart，beforeIheardherfather’svoice。Ah，howit
throbs！Ishallscarcelybeabletoworkagainonthisexquisite
mechanismtonight。Annie-dearestAnnie-thoushouldstgivefirmness
tomyheartandhand，andnotshakethemthus；forifIstriveto
puttheveryspiritofBeautyintoform，andgiveitmotion，itisfor
thysakealone。Oh，throbbingheart，bequiet！Ifmylaborbethus
thwarted，therewillcomevagueandunsatisfieddreams，whichwill
leavemespiritlesstomorrow。”
Ashewasendeavoringtosettlehimselfagaintohistask，the
shop-dooropened，andgaveadmittancetonootherthanthestalwart
figurewhichPeterHovendenhadpausedtoadmire，asseenamidthe
lightandshadowoftheblacksmith’sshop。RobertDanforthhadbrought
alittleanvilofhisownmanufacture，andpeculiarlyconstructed，
whichtheyoungartisthadrecentlybespoken。Owenexaminedthe
article，andpronounceditfashionedaccordingtohiswish。
“Why，yes。”saidRobertDanforth，hisstrongvoicefillingtheshop
aswiththesoundofabass-viol，“Iconsidermyselfequaltoanything
inthewayofmyowntrade；thoughIshouldhavemadebutapoor
figureatyours，withsuchafistasthis“-addedhe，laughing，as
helaidhisvasthandbesidethedelicateoneofOwen。“Butwhatthen？
Iputmoremainstrengthintooneblowofmysledge-hammer，thanall
thatyouhaveexpendedsinceyouwerea’prentice。Isnotthatthe
truth？”
“Veryprobably。”answeredthelowandslendervoiceofOwen。
“Strengthisanearthlymonster。Imakenopretensionstoit。My
force，whatevertheremaybeofit，isaltogetherspiritual。”
“Well，but，Owen，whatareyouabout？”askedhisoldschool-fellow，
stillinsuchaheartyvolumeoftonethatitmadetheartist
shrink；especiallyasthequestionrelatedtoasubjectsosacredas
theabsorbingdreamofhisimagination。“Folksdosay，thatyouare
tryingtodiscoverthePerpetualMotion。”
“ThePerpetualMotion？nonsense！”repliedOwenWarland，witha
movementofdisgust；forhewasfulloflittlepetulances。“Itnever
canbediscovered！Itisadreamthatmaydeludemenwhosebrains
aremystifiedwithmatter，butnotme。Besides，ifsuchadiscovery
werepossible，itwouldnotbeworthmywhiletomakeit，onlytohave
thesecretturnedtosuchpurposesasarenoweffectedbysteamand
water-power。Iamnotambitioustobehonoredwiththepaternityof
anewkindofcotton-machine。”
“Thatwouldbedrollenough！”criedtheblacksmith，breakingout
intosuchanuproaroflaughter，thatOwenhimself，andthe
bell-glassesonhiswork-board，quiveredinunison。“No，no，Owen！
Nochildofyourswillhaveironjointsandsinews。Well，Iwon’t
hinderyouanymore。Goodnight，Owen，andsuccess；andifyouneed
anyassistance，sofarasadownrightblowofhammeruponanvilwill
answerthepurpose，I’myourman！”
Andwithanotherlaugh，themanofmainstrengthlefttheshop。
“Howstrangeitis。”whisperedOwenWarlandtohimself，leaninghis
headuponhishand，“thatallmymusings，mypurposes，mypassion
fortheBeautiful，myconsciousnessofpowertocreateit-afiner，
moreetherealpower，ofwhichthisearthlygiantcanhaveno
conception-all，all，looksovainandidle，whenevermypathis
crossedbyRobertDanforth！Hewoulddrivememad，wereItomeet
himoften。Hishard，bruteforcedarkensandconfusesthespiritual
elementwithinme。ButI，too，willbestronginmyownway。Iwill
notyieldtohim！”