"Beauty provoketh Thieves sooner than Gold."
AS YOU LIKE IT.
The day was fine, and Algernon in high sprightliness and bloom, while
his delighted mother, stimulated by the opportunity of comparison which
now presented itself, secretly doubted in the pride of her heart that
any "mortal mixture of Earth's mould" could furnish such a specimen of
infant grace, as feasted her raptured eyes whenever they rested on her
darling, who had now attained the fifth anniversary of his birth.
Arrived at the Gipsey encampment, the party from Henbury descended from
their carriage and approached a crazy tent, the back of which was
turned towards the road by which our visitors had arrived at
Hazle-moor. Mrs. Hartland, snatching her boy's hand, pressed eagerly
forward, seeking with all her eyes, in every direction, for the little
Zorilda. A group of rustic looking children were at play in front of
the tent, and Mrs. Hartland darted into the midst of the circle, but
not seeing any thing attractive in the coarse physiognomy of these
youthful boors, she was seized with sudden alarm lest the object of her
curiosity had been borne away by some fortunate rival, in the very
scheme which she was herself meditating at that moment.
While she paused, not perceiving any grown person to whom she could
direct an enquiry, a woman came running from a little distance and
called out, "the Spanish child is here, Ma'am, please to walk this
way." So saying, she conducted the party to the distance of a few
hundred yards, till they reached a great mound of peat which had been
piled together by the peasants of the country for firing, and formed a
main source of incitement to the gipsies in selecting this spot for
their temporary encampment.
The woman preceded, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Hartland, Algernon, and
his nurse, and as they turned round the corner of the peat-rick, they
were arrested with astonishment at sight of the perfection of human
loveliness which burst upon their impatient view. Nothing, which was
ever fashioned in the laboratory of Nature in her most plastic mood,
could surpass the exquisite beauty of the cherub who lay fast asleep
upon a cushion of newly gathered heath, the rich purple blossoms of
which, mingling with curls of glossy jet, seemed to breathe their
perfumes in token of grateful pleasure, as the mountain breeze playing
amongst the tender branches wafted their delicate sprays across the
infant's polished brow, as if to guard the little angel from the sun's
too fervid beams.
Mr. and Mrs. Hartland gazed in silent rapture, but Algernon's
transports were not so easily repressed; and Zorilda was wakened by the
inconsiderate demonstration of his joy at sight of her. The pretty
creature started from her fragrant pillow, and, frightened by the
presence of strangers, opened wide the most splendid dark eyes, which
till then had been reposing within their silken curtains, and, looking
wildly round, stretched her dimpled arms towards the gipsey woman, to
whose features she was accustomed; but ere the movement was finished,
her attention was caught by the little boy, and springing forward to
him, these charming children were in an instant locked in each other's
embraces.
Mrs. Hartland's tears bespoke the feelings of her heart, and the gipsey
woman, desirous to heighten the effect of the scene by flattery,
assured her that the little Spaniard had never before exhibited such
sensibility to a stranger.
The children played together with a kid which had attached itself to
Zorilda, and lay cropping the stray sprigs of her flowery couch while
she slept. As Mrs. Hartland retired back a few paces to indulge her
emotion, the young Spaniard fancied that she was going away, and
seizing her hand, pointed to Algernon with a look of deep anxiety,
crying, in the sweetest possible accent, "Lady, no, no go." The spell
was now firmly bound around the mother's affection, and she resolved,
that if money could purchase the child, she would not return home
without Zorilda. Mr. Hartland was in the habit, as has been stated, of
yielding to every suggestion of his wife, whose prudence he respected
as much as he admired her wisdom; and as he doted on his son, in common
with her, and was as much delighted with Zorilda as Mrs. Hartland could
possibly be, he entered warmly into the idea of securing such a
treasure of companionship for Algernon, and set about negotiating the
purchase with all the zeal of one who wished to succeed.
The husband of the gipsey woman returned ere long, and much time did
not elapse before a bargain was concluded, the terms of which were,
that the child should accompany the party to Henbury, leaving the best
part of her little wardrobe behind, and fifty guineas were to be
exchanged for her in cash. The gipsies were in reality very anxious to
sell the infant, as, though the avidity of gain rendered them desirous
to exhibit her for profit, they suffered continual uneasiness from the
dread of her being claimed. They had, it is true, stolen her in a
distant part of the kingdom, and reached Hazle-moor by forced marches
and by intricate bye ways; but much farther concealment could not be
hoped for, and the mere loss of their booty was not the worst which
these lawless plunderers apprehended. They would be punished for the
flagrant violation of the laws which they had committed, and therefore
gladly availed themselves of the first offer to take the little girl
off their hands for a pecuniary price.
The business was arranged, and Zorilda, who clung with the greatest
solicitude to her new acquaintance, as if she felt it more natural as
well as agreeable to associate with them than her late masters, was put
into the carriage. Algernon followed, and Mrs. Hartland was just
raising her foot to the step, when Zorilda's kid made a spring, and
took precedence most ungallantly of the lady. The children were charmed
with nanny-goat's agility, clasped it in their arms, and begged that it
might be left with them. Half a guinea settled this second sale, and
the happy family drove away; Mr. Hartland having stipulated to redeem
his promissory note on the next market-day at the Tholsel, and an
engagement having been agreed to by the wandering horde, that no
enquiries should ever be made by any of them again concerning the
Spanish foundling.
"Who _can_ this little darling be?" said Mrs. Hartland. It was in
vain that she catechised the child. "Zoé," was the only reply to the
question, however frequently repeated, of "what is your name?"
The little stranger speedily adopted the sounds of "papa and mamma,"
the happy children lived in each other's smiles, unconscious that a
time might ever come when joy should be exchanged for grief; and what
is more extraordinary, such is the contraction of a selfish spirit,
parents who ought to have been able to take a wider survey of causes
and effects, were satisfied with present expediency, and resolved that
futurity should shift for itself.
Time rolled on; the same lessons, the same amusements, occupied the
opening minds of Algernon and Zorilda; yet in reality how dissimilar
was the education which they received! Admired, and even cherished as
was the latter, she was in point of fact a purchased slave, while the
former was the hope, the promise, the prop, and pillar of his father's
house. As we have never obtained a phrenological survey of these
childrens' heads, we shall not say any thing of original configuration
with reference to faculties and positions, nor fraudulently entrap our
readers into a new edition of Locke on the human understanding, when
they expect to find a narrative relating to individuals and events. It
suffices us as faithful biographers to state that, while Algernon was
theoretically informed, Zorilda was practically instructed; and as
early impressions are generally conceived to possess considerable
influence on subsequent character, we hope to be pardoned for briefly
describing the opposite results of two systems essentially different
from each other. Were the children at their meals? Algernon was told
that good boys were never greedy, but he was always helped first. Were
the little friends at play? Algernon often heard that the eldest, who
had most sense, should always give up, and "the young gentleman yield
to the young lady." Yet Algernon who was selfish, contended, conquered,
and was never reprimanded. He was _recommended_ to be polite, but the
little Zorilda was _commanded_ to bring him whatever he wanted. Matters
in short were so managed, or rather mismanaged, that _words_ were
employed with one, and _actions_ with the other; _shadows_ were the
portion of Algernon, while all the _substance_ of discipline was
bestowed on Zorilda.
As the children advanced they read the same books, they were taught by
the same masters, they learned the same accomplishments, but literary
or ornamental acquirement is only the surface of education. The
foundation of character, such as forms the real distinction between
individuals of the human species, must be laid in the heart, and
whether a man is the blessing or the curse of that society in which he
possesses influence in after life, generally depends upon the practical
nature of those views by which his natural propensities are regulated,
his vicious tendencies repressed, and every noble, virtuous indication
strengthened and encouraged. Profession is not principle; saying is not
doing; and the fruits will correspond with the methods pursued in
training the youthful mind. Algernon and Zorilda doted on each other,
but the former loved himself better than his little companion. He could
not endure her absence, but it was because her sweet temper, cheerful
acquiescence and inventive talents, increased the measure of his
enjoyment by constant study to please, and perpetual variety in the
means of amusement. Zorilda's affection on the contrary was
unadulterated by the alloy of selfishness. She could not imagine
pleasure separate from the happiness of those who were dear to her
little heart. Though her childish sports lost all their charm when
Algernon did not share them, she would at any moment endeavour to
promote his gratification by the sacrifice of her own; and employed her
irresistible eloquence in furthering the indulgence of a ride upon the
favourite pony at Mr. Hartland's side, which would deprive her of all
she valued till the return of her beloved play-fellow from his
excursion.
At length arrived the important hour of decision upon the long agitated
question of a public school or a private tutor; and the latter was
agreed upon. Mr. Playfair's credentials were unexceptionable, and he
commenced his course with every prospect of mutual liking. He was a
middle-aged man, of pleasing manners, and an excellent scholar; but as
he was given to understand that no moral instruction was required at
his hands, he soon learned to desist from interfering with a department
placed beyond the bounds of his jurisdiction.
"I would not allow any mortal," said Mrs. Hartland, "to supersede me in
the pleasing task of forming the mind and manners of my son;" and we
have already seen how she was qualified for the work which she
determined on executing without substitute or auxiliary.
Algernon wept over the Latin Grammar, and chiefly, because he did not
see any one else condemned to the labours which were inflicted on him.
"Why does not Mr. Playfair make Zoé as unhappy as I am, and give her
this hard lesson to get by heart?" said the boy, as he sobbed upon his
mother's breast.
Zoé was also drowned in tears; but it was because Algernon was
afflicted, and her question, urged in the softest tenderest accent,
was, "Oh, why may not I learn his lesson? I will then teach it to him."
These two short and simple queries furnish the clue by which to follow
the entire labyrinth of these childrens' course. Mr. Playfair, who was
charmed with Zorilda's beauty and docility, readily undertook to aid
her generous purpose, by becoming her tutor, to which Mrs. Hartland
willingly consented; "_not_ that Greek and Latin," said she, "are
necessary for a young lady, but as dear Zoé, who in point of fact is
_nobody_, much as we love her, may turn all that we can do for her
to future account, she may now be made useful to Algernon as well as
herself, by sharing _all_ his labours."
This fiat, though pronounced in an under voice, struck on Zorilda's ear
and attention. She was now only six years old, but the remarkable
acuteness of her sensibility, as well as understanding, rendered a
thousand appeals to both, which were beyond the reach of much older
children, comprehensible to her young mind; and the word _nobody_
suffused her expressive countenance with a blush of deepest die. She
had often heard the question asked, "Who is she?" "Zoé," was her only
reply, and she had never tarried to hear another answer. This
_nobody_ perplexed her little heart, and, running into the arms of
Mrs. Hartland, she buried her glowing face in the bosom of her
protectress.
"What do you mean, dear Mamma? sure Algernon is somebody; and though I
am younger, is not Zoé somebody too? we are both _your_ children."
Mrs. Hartland sighed, and, caressing the child, disengaged herself from
the tender pressure, while a "Yes, my love," hastily uttered as she
left the room, had the effect of brushing away the tear which, at Zoé's
age, "is dried as soon as shed."
Mr. Playfair was a man of distinguished learning, but he possessed
qualities of much rarer character than scholarship. He was a man of
strong sense and deep feeling.
Mrs. Hartland on quitting the room had given him a look of
intelligence, which he understood, and following her to another
apartment, he listened, for the first time, to the history of Zorilda's
introduction at Henbury.
When the story was finished, Mr. Playfair ventured to suggest a hint of
future inconvenience from this lovely child's domestication in the
family.
"A day will come," added he, "in which the truth _must_ be revealed,
and I foresee at least the possibility of great misery and
embarrassment."
Selfish people seldom take long views even for themselves, but happily
for the rest of mankind, are generally so uncompromising and
precipitate in endeavouring to compass their ends, as to put others on
their defence, and enable them sometimes to counteract, always to
anticipate the bearing of an illiberal spirit, intent on its own
exclusive gratification.
Mr. Playfair possessed discrimination, and took in at a glance the
entire _carte du pays_. Though the little Zorilda was affectionately
treated at Henbury, he clearly perceived that she would be
unrelentingly sacrificed to the interests of ambition, and shaken off
without any attention to her feelings whenever a period arrived in
which it might be deemed prudent to get rid of her; but she was an
unfriended orphan, and to snatch her from present positive good in
order to avoid future contingent evil, might perhaps have been scarcely
justifiable, even though ability to do so had seconded inclination. In
Mr. Playfair's case it was impossible. He had no resources, and was a
single man. All that his situation permitted, he determined on
contributing for the benefit of his interesting charge, and never were
exertions more fully repaid. Zorilda's talents were of the first order,
and what is not usual, the solidity of her understanding equalled its
extraordinary quickness. She learned with surprising facility, and
discovered such a thirst for knowledge, that, never satisfied with
superficial glimmerings, she loved to probe the depths of every subject
which lay open to her pursuit.
Algernon's sloth bore strict proportion to Zorilda's industry, of which
he knew how to reap the profit in a manner most congenial to his taste.
Certain of having his exercise written, and his translation parsed by
the companion of his studies, before she looked at her own task, he
gave himself as little trouble as possible; but, aware that the measure
of his idleness must continually depend on that of Zoé's diligence and
application, he encouraged in her what he neglected in his own
instance, and thus was instrumental in assisting Mr. Playfair's
benevolent design of storing the mind of the young unknown against the
hour of adversity. Whatever was the subject of instruction, Zorilda's
intuitive clearness of perception anticipated the labours of her tutor,
and she actually learned faster than he could teach; yet vanity was a
stranger to her young heart. Conscious of ignorance, while she sought
information, it appeared to her nothing extraordinary that she should
understand what the wisdom of others supplied: she transferred all
honour to her instructor, and as Mr. Playfair had too sincere an
interest in the welfare of his pupil to flatter her, our little heroine
passed her early spring of life without guessing that her talents
exceeded the common faculties of her fellow-creatures. Algernon
breathed, on the contrary, an atmosphere of continual praise, with
which his injudicious mother endeavoured to stimulate his progress. The
two children might be compared to plants, the one of which put forth
its sickly bloom in the artificial soil of a hot-bed; while the other,
fanned by the breezes, and fertilized by the dews of heaven, flourished
in full luxuriance of natural strength and beauty; but as the gardener,
who digs, prunes, trains, and waters, is the only person interested in
the gradual unfolding of those "leafy honours," which it is enough for
the casual visitor to see fully developed, we shall now draw a curtain
over the scene of budding hopes; or, if we may be allowed to conclude
our present Chapter with another simile, we will dive like the wild sea
bird into the ocean of time, on the surface of which we have been
slowly sailing, and hiding beneath the billows for a season, start up
anew after a temporary submersion.