“When I was young,” he said, placing his hand on my shoulder and thereby, while affecting to be companionable, forcing me to walk beside him, “the packers used to make the round of the cottages and collect the clocks themselves. But now the vermin have grown fat. They compel the clockmakers to come calling on them. They keep them waiting. Of course they are mostly inn-keepers,” he added. “The longer they are kept waiting, the more beer they drink and that is all subtracted from the price.
“So the young men are forced to go to England. They leave their mother and their wife behind.”
There, at the bottom of the hill, beside a narrow little stream, I was truly sorry for the swollen brute. “Just like yourself,” I said.
He considered me a moment, as if amused, then turned his attention to the view. “Here is my wife,” he said.
Amongst the many, many fanciful and quite insane things Herr Sumper would later insist on—his ability to cause lightning storms for instance—this small comment has its own peculiar place, for his “wife” appeared to be nothing less than the so-called “dung heap”: Furtwangen, with its lanes exceeding narrow and irregular, with its winding streets, its curious old buildings, its wood-carvings, and its profusion of old-fashioned metal-work. The only flaw in the picture was the obtrusively ugly modern structure, rising high and level, and looking gravelly and prosaic.
“What is that building?” I asked him.
At which point, while I was off my guard, he lurched at me.
I struck his throat.
His eyes bugged.
I spat at him.
He took me in a bear hug so tight he crushed my lungs and forced from me a most unmanly squeak, lifting me up high, turning me clockwise, anticlockwise, then upside down, and back again upon the earth.
“Why,” cried he, as he kissed me on both cheeks, “it is where they make your springs.”
Thus I understood this madman intended—after all that I had said and done—to make the automaton. Then, out of sheer relief, that my sick child would truly live, I slapped his face.
Procedures Meeting
Room 404 Annexe
3 May 2010
Present: E. Croft (Curator Horology), C. Gehrig (Conservator Horology), H. Williamson (Conservator Ceramics), S. Hall (Line Manager)
The purpose of the meeting was to decide a schedule for identifying, restoring, and reconstructing the automaton presently identified as H234.
It was decided that C. Gehrig would make an inventory of the automaton and present the findings to the Curator and the Ceramics Conservator in the last week of June. As the physical condition of this bequest is rather “pig in a poke” it was agreed that C. Gehrig and E. Croft (together, perhaps, with Development and Publicity) would meet before the August holidays to see where things stood. C. Gehrig asked if this object was primarily a “crowd-pleaser.” E. Croft said that “crowd-pleasers” had never been part of the museum’s mission. He added that although the budget for this restoration would be initially limited, he was not pessimistic about the future.
E. Croft then provided for the committee a receipt for weighed silver made out to a “Monsieur Sumper.”
The presence of glass rods and small silver fish gives some indication of the action. However it will require a full assessment to know the value (if any) of the swan both in an historical sense (c. 1854) and in terms of whatever use it may be to the Exhibitions Committee. It was clearly “early days.”
It was the Curator’s strong recommendation that the Conservators undertake this work in three stages.
1. assessment and identification.
2. restoration of the automaton and the accommodation of the clockwork within a newly produced pedestal or plinth à la Vaucanson. This would enable us to exhibit sometime in 2011 and would attract funds for stage two. The Conservator expressed her general agreement with this strategy.
3. restoration of the original chassis, which not only presents its own set of puzzles, but requires greater resources than the museum can contemplate at the present time.
The meeting shared the Conservator of Horology’s opinion that the assessment and identification could be conducted by a single Conservator in a timely manner.
S. Hall said that an assistant (graduate of both Courtauld and West Dean—young but highly recommended) could be made available almost immediately. E. Croft agreed to assess progress in ten days and discuss what resources might then be required.
Given the age of the automaton and its imperfect storage, C. Gehrig warned that it was likely both spring and arbor were dried out. Removal of springs from the spring barrel would require the manufacture of a wooden jig which would not be inexpensive, particularly as the work must be done off-site, at University College London. E. Croft will speak to the College and attempt to arrange a favourable price estimate. He stressed that although the budget for this restoration would be initially limited, he had great hopes of “turning on the taps.”
Catherine
THE LAST THING I require is human company, but there she is, my unwanted assistant. She is appallingly young and eager, with long fair hair and dark eyebrows, a slim figure made for jodhpurs and wind-cheaters and a white plain shirt.
“You are Amanda?”
“Yes.”
“You are the Courtauld girl?”
“I suppose so, yes.” The voice is upper-upper but has some wobbly vowels, a weird mélange of Faubourg St. Germain and Essex. It makes my teeth ache, the pitch of it.
“Come in,” I tell her carefully, treading around the edges of my hangover.
Piercing voice or no, she is very pretty, with a porcelain complexion and very blue eyes and long lashes. She waits obediently while I turn on my computer but when I realize the museum server is now functioning, all I can think of is how to get to Matthew’s emails. This is far more important than the resuscitation of a swan.
“You can hang your umbrella over there.”
I have had an idea about Matthew’s password. It will be a secret no one else would ever guess.
After I have tested my idea, I will be extremely nice to her, take her to Fortnum’s for tea—she looks like she might enjoy that. For now I am very agitated but I force myself to ask how long has she been with us, what has she done so far.
“Nothing very much I’m afraid. I must say those glass rods look fascinating.”
I really, really do not wish to talk. “Do you know what they are?” I ask.
“I think so, yes. That is, of course not. Do they rotate to simulate water?”
Has Crofty planted her? Is she someone’s daughter? “You went online?” I suggest.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been researching automata online?”
“No, oh no, I wouldn’t do that.” She seems so shocked, I smile. “They will be jolly hard to clean, won’t they? I was thinking how you would manage it. Is there a trick to it?”
“Only to have Ceramics take care of it.”
“Oh.”
“You are disappointed?”
“I like to clean things. I think that’s why they sent me.”
So that’s how I will get rid of her. She can fetch Hilary from Ceramics. She pays very close attention to the complicated instructions—the normal response to Swinburne directions is to panic, but she listens, alert, her head cocked. I expect her to ask me to repeat. She leaves. A moment later I am attempting to access Matthew’s account.