Many years ago, in a large iron foundry in the city of Ghent, was found a young workman by the name of Otto Holstein. He was not nineteen years of age, but none of the workmen could equal him in his special department,—bell casting or moulding. Far and near the fame of Otto’s bells extended,—the clearest and sweetest, people said, that were ever heard.
HOTEL DE VILLE, GHENT.
Of course the great establishment of Von Erlangen, in which Otto worked, got the credit of his labors; but Von Erlangen and Otto himself knew very well to whom the superior tone of the bells was due. The master did not pay him higher wages than the others, but by degrees he grew to be general superintendent in his department in spite of his extreme youth.
“Yes, my bells are good,” he said to a friend one day, who was commenting upon their merits; “but they do not make the music I will yet strike from them. They ring alike for all things. To be sure, when they toll for a funeral the slow measure makes them seem mournful, but then the notes are really the same as in a wedding peal. I shall make a chime of bells that will sound at will every chord in the human soul.”
“Then wilt thou deal in magic,” said his friend, laughing; “and the Holy Inquisition will have somewhat to do with thee. No human power can turn a bell into a musical instrument.”
“But I can,” he answered briefly; “and, Inquisition or not, I will do it.”
He turned abruptly from his friend and sauntered, lost in thought, down the narrow street which led to his home. It was an humble, red-tiled cottage, of only two rooms, that he had inherited from his grandfather. There he lived alone with his widowed mother. She was a mild, pleasant-faced woman, and her eyes brightened as her son bent his tall head under the low doorway, as he entered the little room. “Thou art late, Otto,” she said, “and in trouble, too,” as she caught sight of his grave, sad face.
“Yes,” he answered. “When I asked Herr Erlangen for an increase of salary, for my work grows harder every day, he refused it. Nay, he told me if I was not satisfied, I could leave, for there were fifty men ready to take my place. Ready! yes, I warrant they’re ready enough, but to be able is a different thing.”