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Upon his return to Karlstad, he tried to make
a new carriage, but failed. Then the gift bestowed
on him by the Wood Nymph struck terror to his
heart. He had left the life of ease at his father’s
castle to become a benefactor to many, not to
conjure witch-works of value only to one. Where was
the good in being a master—ay, even the greatest
of masters—if one could not duplicate one’s
inventions for the benefit of mankind?
The learned and versatile Kevenhüller, longing
for some regular and sane occupation, became a
mason and stone-cutter for a time. It was then he
built the high tower down by the West End bridge,
in the style of the seed-grain tower of his father’s
castle. He planned to erect a range of buildings
with portals, ramparts, turrets, and courts, so that
a veritable castle should stand on the shores of the
Klarälfven. And there he hoped to make real the
dreams of his boyhood. Every kind of industry and
handicraft was to be carried on in the rooms of his
castle. Millers, blacksmiths, watch-makers, dyers,
weavers, turners, filers—all should have workshops
there.
From stones of his own hewing he built his tower
and fitted it with windmill wings, for the tower was
to be a mill. That done, he was eager to begin work
on the smithy. Then, one day, as he stood watching
the strong, light wings turning in the wind, the old
longing for creative work returned.
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