The Fairy Godmothers and Other Tales Part 6

And Joachim performed all the grimaces and contortions to perfection, till his Aunt and Cousins were convulsed with laughter.

"Well done," cried his Mother. "Now you are indeed like the cat in the German fable, Joachim! who voted himself like the bear, because he could lick his paws after the same fashion, though he could not imitate either his courage or his strength. Now let me look a little further into your education. Bring me your drawing-book." It came, and there was page after page of odd and ugly faces, strange noses, stranger eyes, squinting out of the book in hideous array.

"I suppose you will laugh again if I ask you if these are the _beauties_ of your school, Joachim;--but tell me seriously, are there no good, pleasant, or handsome faces among your schoolfellows?"

"Plenty, Mother; one or two the Master calls models, and who often sit to him to be drawn from."

"Draw one of those faces for me, my dear; I am fond of beauty." And the Mother placed the book in his hands, pointing to a blank page.

Joachim took a pencil, and sat down. _Now_ he thought he should be able to please his Mother; but, alas, he found to his surprise, that the fine faces he tried to recall had not left that vivid impression on his brain which enabled him to represent them. On the contrary, he was tormented and baffled by visions of the odd forms and grotesque countenances he had so often pictured. He seized the Indian-rubber and rubbed out nose after nose to no purpose, for he never could replace them with a better. Drawing was his favourite amus.e.m.e.nt; and this disappointment, where he expected success, broke down his already depressed heart. He threw the book from him, and burst into a flood of tears.

"Joachim! have you drawn him? What makes you cry?"

"I cannot draw him, Mother," sobbed the distressed boy.

"And why not? Just look here; here is an admirable likeness of squinting Joe, as you have named him. Why cannot you draw the handsome boy?"

"Because his face is so handsome!" answered Joachim, still sobbing.

"My son," said his Mother gravely, "you have now a sad lesson to learn, but a necessary and a wholesome one. Get up, desist from crying, and listen to me."

Poor Joachim, who loved his mother dearly, obeyed.

"Joachim! your Aunt, and your Cousins, and your schoolfellows have all called you clever. In what does your cleverness consist? I will tell you. In the Reproduction of Deformity, Defects, Failings, and Misfortunes of every sort, that fall under your observation. A worthy employment truly! A n.o.ble ambition! But I will now tell you the truth about yourself. You never heard it before, and I feel sure you will benefit now. A good or an evil Genie, I know not which, has bestowed upon you a great power; and you have misused it. Do you know what that power is?"

Joachim shook his head, though he trembled all over, for he felt as if awaking from along dream, to the recollection of the Genie.

"It is the power of Imitation, Joachim; I call it a great power, for it is essential to many great and useful things. It is essential to the orator, the linguist, the artist, and the musician. Nature herself teaches us the charm of _imitation_, when in the smooth and clear lake you see the lovely landscape around mirrored and _repeated_.[5] What a lesson may we not read in this sight! The commonest pond even that reflects the foliage of the tree that hangs over it, is calling out to us to reproduce for the solace and ornament of life, the beautiful works of G.o.d. But oh, my son, my dear son, you have abused this gift of Imitation, which might be such a blessing and pleasure to you."

[5] Schiller.--"Der Kunstler."

"You might, if you chose, _imitate every thing that is good, and n.o.ble, and virtuous, and beautiful_; and you are, instead of that, reproducing every aspect of deformity that crosses your path, until your brain is so stamped with images of defects, ugliness, and uncouthness, that your hand and head refuse their office, when I call upon you to reproduce the beauties with which the world is graced."

I doubt if Joachim heard the latter part of his Mother's speech. At the recurrence to the old sentence, a gleam of lightning seemed to shoot across his brain. Latent memories were aroused as keenly as if the events had but just occurred, and he sank at his Mother's feet.

When she ceased to speak, he arose.

"Mother," said he, "I have been living in a cloud. I have been very wrong. Besides which, I have a secret to tell you. Nay, my Aunt may hear. It has been a secret, and then it has been forgotten; but now I remember all, and understand far more than I once did."

Here Joachim recounted to his Mother the whole story of her words to him, and his adventure with the Genie and the bottle; and then, very slowly, and interrupted by many tears of repentance, he repeated what the Genie had said about giving him _the power_ of imitation, adding that the use he made of it must depend on himself and the great Ruler of the heart and conscience.

There was a great fuss among the Cousins at the notion of Joachim having talked to a Genie; and, to tell you the truth, this was all they thought about, and soon after took their leave. The heart of Joachim's Mother was at rest, however: for though she knew how hard her son would find it to alter what had become a habit of life, she knew that he was a good and pious boy, and she saw that he was fully alive to his error.

"Oh Mother," said he, during the course of that evening, "how plain I see it all now! The boy that stutters is a model of obedience and tenderness; I ought to have dwelt upon and imitated that, and, oh! I thought only of his stuttering. The boy that walks so clumsily, as well as the great fellow that lisps, are such industrious lads, and so advanced in learning, that the master thinks both will be distinguished hereafter; and I, who--(oh, my poor mother, I must confess to you)--hated to labour at any thing, and have got the boys to do my lessons for me;--I, instead of imitating their industry, lost all my time in ridiculing their defects.--What shall--what shall I do!"

The next morning poor Joachim said his prayers more humbly than he had ever before done in his life; and, kissing his mother, went to school.

The first thing he did on arriving was to go up to the big boy, who had beaten him, and beg him to shake hands.

The big boy was pleased, and a grim smile lightened up his face. "But, old fellow," said he, laying his hand on Joachim's shoulder, "take a friend's advice. There is good in all of us, depend upon it. Look out for all that's good, and let the bad points take care of themselves.

_You_ won't get any handsomer, by squinting like poor Joe; nor speak any pleasanter for lisping like me; nor walk any better for apeing hobbling. But the ugliest of us have some good about us. Look out for _that_, my little lad; I do, or I should not be talking to you! I see that you are honest and forgiving, though you _are_ a monkey! There now, I must go on with my lessons! You do yours!"

Never was better advice given, and Joachim took it well, and bore it bravely; but, oh, how hard it was to his mind, accustomed for so long to wander away and seek amus.e.m.e.nt at wrong times, to settle down resolutely and laboriously to study. He made a strong effort, however; and though he had often to recall his thoughts, he in a measure succeeded.

After school-hours he begged the big boy to come and sit by him, and then he requested his old friends and companions to listen to a story he had to tell them. They expected something funny, and many a broad grin was seen; but poor Joachim's eyes were yet red with weeping, and his gay voice was so subdued, the party soon became grave and wondering, and then Joachim told them every thing. They were delighted to hear about the Genie, and were also pleased to find themselves safe from Joachim's ridicule. It could not be expected they should all understand the story, but the big boy did, and became Joachim's greatest friend and adviser.

That evening our little friend, exhausted with the efforts and excitement of his almost first day of repentance, strolled out in a somewhat pensive mood to his favourite haunt, the sea sh.o.r.e. A stormy sunset greeted his arrival on the beach, but the tide was ebbing, and he wandered on till he reached some caverns among the cliffs. And there, as had often been his wont, he sat down to gaze out upon the waste of waters safe and protected from harm. It is very probable that he fell asleep--but the point could never be clearly known, for he always said it was no sleep and no dream he had then, but that, whilst sitting in the inmost recesses of the cave, he saw once more his old friend the Genie, who after reproaching him with the bad use he had made of his precious gift, gave him a world of good advice and instruction.

There is no doubt that after that time, Joachim was seen daily struggling against his bad habits; and that by degrees he became able to exercise his mind in following after the good and beautiful instead of after the bad and ugly. It was a hard task to him for many a long day to fix his flighty thoughts down to the business in hand, and to dismiss from before his eyes the ridiculous images that often presented themselves. But his Mother's wishes, or the Genie's advice, or something better still, prevailed. And you cannot think, of what wonderful use the Genie's gift was to him then. Once turned in a right direction and towards worthy objects, he found it like a sort of friend at his right hand, helping him forward in some of the most interesting pursuits of life. Ah! all the energy he had once bestowed on imitating lisps and stuttering, was now engaged in catching the sounds of foreign tongues, and thus taking one step towards the citizenship of the world. And instead of wasting time in gazing at the singing master's face, that he might ape its unnatural distortions--it was now the sweet tones of skilful harmony to which he bent his attention, and which he strove, and not in vain, to reproduce.

The portfolio which he brought home to his Mother at the end of another half-year, was crowded with laborious and careful copies from the best models of beauty and grace. And not with those only, for many a face could be found on its pages in which the Mother recognized some of her son's old companions. Portraits, not of the mere formation of mouths and noses, which in so many cases, viewed merely as forms, are defective and unattractive, but portraits of the same faces, upon which the character of the inward mind and heart was so stamped that it threw the mere shape of the features far into the background.

Thus with the pursuit of his favourite art, Joachim combined "that most excellent gift of charity;" for it was now his pride and pleasure to make the charm of expression from "_the good points_" his old friend had talked about, triumph over any physical defects. The very spirit and soul of the best sort of portrait painting. And here, my dear young readers, I would fain call your attention to the fact of how one right habit produces another. The more Joachim laboured over seizing the good expression of the faces he drew from, the more he was led to seek after and find out the good points themselves whence the expression arose; and thus at last it became a _Habit_ with him to try and discover every thing that was excellent and commendable in the characters of those he met; a very different plan from that pursued by many of us, who in our intercourse with each other, are but too apt to fasten with eagle-eye accuracy on failings and faults. Which is a very grave error, and a very misleading one, for if it does nothing else, it deprives us of all the good we should get by a daily habit of contemplating what is worthy our regard and remembrance. And so strongly did Joachim's mother feel this, and so earnestly did she wish her son to understand that a power which seems bestowed for worldly ends, may be turned to spiritual advantage also, that when his birthday came round she presented to him among other gifts, a little book, called "The Imitation of Jesus Christ." It was the work of an old fellow called Thomas a Kempis, and though more practical books of piety have since been written, the idea contained in the t.i.tle suggests a great lesson, and held up before Joachim's eyes, Him whom one of our own divines has since called "The Great Exemplar."

This part of our little hero's 'Lesson of Life,' we can all take to ourselves, and go and do likewise. And so I hope his story may be profitable, though we have not all of us a large Genie-gift of Imitation as he had. With him the excess of this power took a very natural turn, for though he possessed through its aid, considerable facilities for music and the study of languages also, the course of events led him irresistibly to what is usually called "the fine arts."

And if the old dream of the royal chariot and the twelve jet black horses was never realized to him, a higher happiness by far was his, when some years after, he and his Mother stood in the council house of his native town; she looking up with affectionate pride while he showed her a portrait of the good young King which had a few hours before been hung up upon its walls. It was the work of Joachim himself.

DARKNESS AND LIGHT.

_The darkness and the light to Thee are both alike_.

Far away to the west, on the borders of the Sea, there lived a lady and gentleman in a beautiful old house built something like a castle.

They had several children, nice little boys and girls, who were far fonder of their Sea Castle, as they called it, than of a very pleasant house which they had in a great town at some distance off. Still they used to go and be very merry in the Town House in the winter time when the hail and snow fell, and the winds blew so cold that n.o.body could bear to walk out by the wild sea sh.o.r.e.

But in summer weather the case was quite altered. Indeed, as soon as ever the sun began to get a little power, and to warm the panes of gla.s.s in the nursery windows of the Town House, there was a hue and cry among all the children to be off to their Sea Castle home, and many a time had Papa and Mamma to send them angrily out of the room, because they would do nothing but beg to "set off directly." They were always "sure that the weather was getting quite hot," and "it _must_ be summer, for they heard the sparrows chirping every morning the first thing," and they "thought they had seen a swallow," and "the windows got so warm with the sunshine, Nurse declared they were enough to burn one's fingers:" and so the poor little things teazed themselves and everybody else, every year, in their hurry to get back to their western home. But I dare say you have heard the old proverb, "One swallow does not make a summer;" and so it was proved very often to our friends. For the Spring season is so changeable, there are often some soft mild days, and then a cruel frost comes again, and perhaps snow as well; and people who have boasted about fine weather and put off their winter clothes, look very foolish.

Still Time pa.s.ses on; and when May was half over, the Town House used to echo with shouts of noisy delight, and boxes were banged down in the pa.s.sages, and there was a great calling out for cords, and much scolding about broken keys and padlocks, and the poor Carpenter who came to mend the trunks and find new keys to old locks, was at his wits' end and his patience' end too.

But at last the time came when all this bustle was succeeded by silence in the Town House, for carriages had rolled away with the happy party, and n.o.body was left behind but two or three women servants to clean out the deserted rooms.

And now then, my little readers, who are, I hope, wondering what is coming next, you must fancy to yourselves the old Sea Castle Home. It had two large turrets; and winding staircases led from the pa.s.sages and kitchens underneath the sitting rooms, up to the top of the turrets, and so out upon the leads of the house, from which there was the most beautiful view of the Ocean you ever saw; and, as the top of the house was battlemented, like the top of your church tower, people could walk about quite safely and comfortably, without any fear of falling over. Then, though it is a very unusual thing near the Sea, there were delightful gardens at the place, and a few very fine old elm trees near the house, in which a party of rooks built their nests every year; and the children had gardens of their own, in which they could dig up their flowers to see if the roots were growing, to their heart's content, and perform other equally ingenious feats, such as watering a plant two or three times a day, or after a shower of rain, and then wondering that, with such tender care, the poor thing should rot away and die.

But I almost think the children liked the sands on the sh.o.r.e as well as the gardens, though they loved both. Not that there was any amus.e.m.e.nt astir by the water side there, as you have seen in other places where there are boats and fishermen and nets, and great coils of ropes, and an endless variety of entertaining sights connected with the seafaring business going on. Nay, in some places where there is not a very good sh.o.r.e for landing, it is an amus.e.m.e.nt of itself to see each boat or fishing yawl come in. There is such a contrast between the dark tarred wood and the white surf that dashes up all round it; and the fishermen are so clever in watching the favourable moment for a wave to carry them over their difficulties; that I think this is one of the prettiest sights one can see. But no such thing was ever seen on the sh.o.r.e by the old Sea Castle, for there was no fishing there.

People thought the sea was too rough and the landing too difficult, and so no fishing village had ever been built, and no boats ever attempted to come within many miles of the place.

n.o.body cared to ask further, or try to account for the wildness of the sea on that coast; but I can tell you all about it, although it must be in a sort of half whisper--_The place was on the borders of Fairy Land!_ that is to say, many many unknown numbers of miles out at sea, right opposite to the Castle, there was a Fairy Island, and it was the Fairies who kept the sea so rough all round them, for fear some adventurous sailor should approach the island, or get near enough to fish up some of the pearls and precious stones they kept in a crystal palace underneath the water.

So now you know the reason why the sea was so rough, and there was no fishing going on at the Sea Castle Home.

If you want to know whether any body ever saw the Fairy Island, I must say, yes; but very seldom. And never but in the evening when the sun was setting, and that under particular circ.u.mstances--namely, when he went down into a dark red bank of clouds, or when there was a lurid crimson hue over the sky just above the horizon. Then occasionally you might see the dim hazy outline as of a beautiful mountainous island against the clouds, or the deep-coloured sky. There is an island sometimes seen from our western coast, under similar circ.u.mstances, but which you strain your eyes in vain to discern by the brighter light of day.[6]

[6] Isle of Man from Blackpool.

It is a very ticklish thing to live on the borders of Fairy Land; for though you cannot get to the Fairies, they can get to you, and it is not altogether a pleasant thing to have your private affairs overseen and interfered with by such beings as they are, though sometimes it may be most useful and agreeable. Besides which, there was a Fairy-secret connected with the family that lived at the Sea Castle.

An Ancestress of the present Mistress had been a Fairy herself, and though she had accommodated herself to mortal manners, and lived with her husband quite quietly as well as happily, and so her origin had been in a great measure forgotten, it was not unknown to her descendant, the Lady Madeline, who now lived in the place. And, in fact, soon after Lady Madeline first came there, a Fairy named Eudora had appeared to her, declaring herself to be a sort of distant cousin, and offering and promising friendship and a.s.sistance, whenever asked or even wished for. In return, she only begged to be allowed to visit, and ramble at will about the old place which she had known for so many many long years, and had once had the unlimited run of; and she protested with tears that the family should never in any way be disturbed by her. Lady Madeline could not well refuse the request, but I cannot say she gave her fairy acquaintance any encouragement; and so poor Eudora never showed herself to them again. And Madeline never thought much about her, except now and then accidentally, when, if they were walking on the sands, some extraordinarily rare and beautiful sh.e.l.ls would be thrown ash.o.r.e by a wave at the children's feet, as if tossed up especially for their amus.e.m.e.nt. And it was only in some such kind little way as this they were ever reminded of the Fairy's existence.