_Fiddling Jackey._
There was once a little boy, who led a very unhappy life, for his
father was tipsy from morning till night, and he had no mother to
soothe and console him when he had met with ill-treatment, which
happened almost daily.
I cannot tell you exactly how long ago this was, but it must be a long,
long time, for there were fairies then, and the birds, trees, and
flowers sang and spoke, which you know has not happened within your
recollection, at all events.
Jackey's father, for Jackey was the little boy's name, was village
musician, and had once played the violin remarkably well, but since
he had taken to drinking had grown so careless that his scraping was
a horror to all who could hear at all, that the dogs even howled in
disgust, and probably in pain, for the noise they made was piteous in
the extreme.
Now, when the drunken fiddler reeled home at night, accompanied by
the most dissolute of the village, the shouting of these, the horrid
scraping of the fiddle, and the discordant chorus of some twenty or
thirty dogs, made the more steady and respectable portion of the
community tremble in their beds, with some undefined fear.
All this, you must know, happened in Germany, where in every cottage
of the villages there is, at least, one dog, and where the watchman,
who is generally the swineherd as well, no doubt was not over sober
himself, and more likely to add to the noise than stop it.
Though the fiddler was a sad reprobate, and his playing of the worst
description, he was tolerated; for the fact is that the most of the
elder portion of the villagers cared only for drinking, and the younger
ones thought of nothing but dancing; so he was good enough for them
after all.
His disorderly life and cruelty had killed his poor wife, Jackey's
mother, who would have looked upon death as a real blessing, had she
not feared for the future of her young son; however, Jackey, who was
eight years old, had the thoughtlessness of youth and good health to
support him, though, it is true, he cried bitterly after his father had
been beating him, and felt sorrowful enough when he had not enough to
eat, which happened but too often.
Jackey still remembered the time when, though at rare intervals, his
father played really well; and the sweet sounds of music had so entered
his very soul that he felt a secret consolation within him, amidst all
his troubles.
This love of music, though it consoled him, occasionally caused him
more bitter sorrow than the most cruel beatings; for when he looked at
the violin, hanging against the wall, neglected and covered with mud,
he thought of the sweet sounds that were still within it, though there
was no one to bring them out.
Now, one day, when Jackey had been staring longer than usual at the
violin, and his mind was filled with sad thoughts, his father happened
to come in, and the poor boy, mustering up all his courage, said--
"My dear Father, do not be angry if I ask what the poor fiddle has done
to you that you neglect it so? Take care or it will die too, as my dear
good mother did, of a broken heart."
The only answer to this was a sound thrashing; and, as the beating had
been more severe than usual, so Jackey cried longer and more bitterly,
all by himself, for his father had gone again; but, as the pain grew
less, his crying was not so violent nor loud; then he thought he heard
a voice, like sobbing, come from the wall.
There was no mistaking it, the sobbing proceeded from the violin, and
Jackey's tears burst forth afresh; but there must be an end to all
things, and when he had become calmer, he got on a chair, so as to be
nearer the instrument, and whispered--
"My dear Fiddle, you pity me, and now I have a friend in the place of
my good lost mother. But you, too, I am afraid, are not more happy than
she was. Tell me if I can do anything for you."
"I do pity you," the violin answered, "for you are a good boy, and I
wish to console you for the loss of your mother, and make you forget
all the hardships you have to suffer. At the same time, you can do me
a very great service. Take me down, and when you have cleaned me and
put me in proper order, I will teach you how to make me sing again,
better than ever I used to do. Then I shall be happy, and you, my poor
Boy, will forget your sorrow, for I know that sweet sounds will console
you in all your troubles."
[Illustration: _The neglected Fiddle repining._]
Jackey said, sorrowfully, "Oh, how I wish to make you happy! But if I
take you down, my father will beat me, and, what is worse, perhaps, in
his passion, throw you against the wall, and dash you to pieces."
"Be not afraid, but do as I tell you," the violin answered; "you know
that your father is at the tavern all day long till dusk, when he comes
to fetch me, and if, by chance, he does come in, he never notices
anything. I promise you no harm shall happen to you; so take me down
and carry me, with the bow, into the forest, where, by the side of the
stream, I will teach you how to make me bring forth sweet sounds."
"You know better than I do what is safe to do, so I will take you to
the forest, as you tell me."
As he said this, Jackey took down the violin, and having cleaned and
tuned it, according to its own directions, he carried it and the bow
into the forest, where he seated himself by the side of the rivulet.
The breeze played between the leaves and branches of the trees, the
leaves and branches rustled, the birds sang sweetly, the stream
murmured softly, and all seemed to say--
"Welcome, Jackey! welcome to the forest!"
"Oh, how delightful it is here!" Jackey cried; "and now, my dear
Fiddle, teach me to imitate all these sweet sounds."
The violin told him how to hold the bow and where to place his fingers;
and all the birds came round him, first one whistling a note till he
could imitate it, and then another giving him the next note, and so on;
the rivulet, too, and the wind assisted; and then came the nightingale
and taught him how to join the different notes together, that they
might harmonize and form sounds agreeable to the ear.
Jackey was so attentive, and did all so well, that the trees, the
flowers, the stream, and all the birds cried out--
"Bravo, Jackey!"
As soon as evening began to draw near Jackey put up his fiddle and
prepared to go home, when all the voices, with one accord, cried--
"Come again soon, and we will sing together."
Jackey went the very next day, and every succeeding day, and he made
the flowers join in the universal harmony. His dear fiddle seconded him
in all his endeavours, so that very shortly he imitated all the voices
of the forest with the greatest accuracy.
It happened about this time that the landlord of the village inn died,
leaving a widow, who wished for nothing better than to give him a
successor as speedily as possible; but though she was rich, and the
business most thriving, yet no suitors appeared.
Jackey's father, in his drunken moments, thought he would propose to
the widow, for he said to himself that, when master of the inn, he
could have as much drink as he liked without paying for it; but when
a little more sober his courage failed him, for she was the veriest
shrew, and the charms of her person were no more engaging than those
of her character.
Her hair was neither red, brown, nor black, but a sort of dirty
coloured mixture of the three, and each hair seemed to go a different
way. Her nose was very, very long, not projecting, but hanging down,
like the beak of some of the small tribes of parrots. I think the
love-birds have such beaks, but I can scarcely compare her to those,
for certainly she had nothing of the love about her. Well, her nose,
anyhow, was like a parrot's beak, but flattened down, and that on one
side, or else it would have covered her mouth, which would have been
no great harm, for that was as ugly a feature as any other, and not
improved by having only half the due number of teeth, which, unlike
the nose, stuck out instead of hanging down. Her eyes were like those
of a cat, and one squinted awfully. Shaggy eyebrows and a pointed
hairy chin complete her portrait. Her figure was long, lank, and
shapeless--shapeless not meaning no shape at all, but an ugly shape.
Most people have some redeeming qualities, or quality at least, but no
one had yet discovered hers, and no one had been found bold enough
to propose to the interesting widow, though she let it be clearly
understood that she wished to remain a widow no longer.
Jackey's father had so often made up his mind to make her an offer that
at last his mind became familiarized to the horror, and if not in love
with the widow, he was decidedly so with her beer and spirits; so one
evening, having screwed up his courage to the highest pitch, he, in a
few words, offered himself as a husband.
The widow took but a few minutes to consider, that, though he was a
drunken, worthless fellow, he was better than no husband at all; so
she did not give him time to draw back, but accepted him with all his
faults.
The wedding followed with the least possible loss of time, and the
guests drank deeply to the health and happiness of the bride and
bridegroom, but the happy husband drank more than any of them. This was
a happy beginning; but how short-lived is happiness, for to his this
was not only the beginning but also the end.
How changed was everything the very next day! Beer and spirits were
carefully locked up, and the poor fiddler was put under the water-cure
treatment, and this was the first of a series of strictly sober days.
He did not resign himself to petticoat government without a struggle,
but in every way she was more than his match.
Adversity is the bitterest of all medicines, but frequently acts most
beneficially on the soul, if not on the body. So it proved with the
fiddler, for though, during the first few days of his new life, his
temper was sourer than ever, by degrees his spirit was broken, and the
outbursts of passion became less frequent. Passion was of no avail, for
it never gained him his object, and his amiable spouse still remained
his better half.
Example had its effect also, for as he daily suffered from his wife's
intolerable temper, her unamiability, which at first roused his anger,
now caused disgust and horror, and occasionally he could not help
reflecting that in many respects he had been like her. As yet the
improvement in his character was involuntary, forced upon him, as it
were, and failed to soothe his mind and feelings; but Jackey, being
treated with less harshness, began to feel for the first time that he
had a father.
The good boy, looking on his father now without fear, saw the dejection
he was constantly labouring under, and, as much as he had dreaded and
almost abhorred the harsh brutal man, he now pitied his suffering
father, so that he took every opportunity to get near to him, sometimes
venturing a remark; and one day, when he saw him in a particularly
desponding mood, he fetched the violin and played the voices of the
forest to him.
Jackey's father was at first bewildered by the tender emotions to
which his heart had so long been a stranger, but as the sweet sounds
continued, it seemed as if his nature were changed and a new life
dawned upon him. He clasped his son to his breast and burst into tears.
When he became a little calm, he said--
"How beautifully you play, Jackey! How did you learn? But why inquire?
You have always been a good boy, and kinder, better spirits than those
of the earth, seeing you so neglected by your unnatural father, have
taken compassion on you. I have led a bad life, but now I see my
faults, and I will be always kind to you, my Son. Oh, Jackey, your good
mother will forgive me for all my past cruelty when she sees how I
watch over her dear child!"
"Dear Father," Jackey said, "my dear, good mother, who is in heaven,
forgives you now. Oh, if she were but here to share our happiness!"
"Play me that tune once more," his Father said, "and then we will go to
your step-mother, and I will beg and pray of her to send you to school,
for I can do nothing, my poor Boy."
They went to that amiable lady, with whom, however, all prayers were in
vain. She said she would not spend a farthing of her money on father or
son, but that Jackey should be a shoemaker; that she would send him to
her brother, who was a shoemaker in a neighbouring village, where he
would soon be broken of his idle habits. Jackey said he would not be a
shoemaker; whereupon she gave him a slap on the face, which made his
ears sing and bright spots dance before his eyes, promising at the same
time to break his fiddle over his head.
Jackey, however, was none the less determined not to be a shoemaker,
and his only trouble was how to keep the dear fiddle out of her way.
The next morning very early he was waked by a kiss from his father, who
said--
"Get up quickly, my Boy, and dress yourself, for I cannot do anything
for you here, not even protect you, and it will be better to trust
to the kindness of strangers than go to that cruel woman's brother,
who no doubt is as bad as herself. We must part, my dear Jackey, but
I do not fear for you, for wherever you play the airs you played me
yesterday, you will be sure to find friends. Take your fiddle then, and
wander forth into the world, and if you remain a good boy, as you have
hitherto been, God will watch over you and protect you. Make haste; and
in the meantime I will see what I can find to eat for you to take with
you."
Jackey was ready when his father returned with some provisions done up
in a bag. "Now follow me," he said, "and take care that you do not make
any noise, so that no one may hear us." They got out safely and went
straight to the forest, where Jackey's Father stopping, said to him,
"You are now safe out of the clutches of your wicked stepmother, and we
must part; but, my dear Boy, we will put our trust in Providence, and,
if my life is spared a few years longer, I shall see you again, for
when you prosper in the world, and prosper you will, my Son, you will
not forget your old father."
"Let me remain with you, my dear Father," Jackey said, "for you are not
happy, and I will try to cheer you with my fiddle. I do not mind my
stepmother's cruelty."
"No, my Child, it must not be," his Father answered, "I have deserved
my fate, and will try and bear it with resignation; but fortune awaits
you in the world, far from here. Do not cry; and now, with my blessing
on you, we must part." He pressed his son to his breast, and turned
back without uttering another word.
Jackey watched him till he was out of sight, and then sadly went on
his way into the forest, he knew and cared not whither. After a time
he reached the very spot, by the side of the rivulet, where he had
first sat with the violin and listened to the voices of the forest; and
as he seated himself, the rustling in the trees and the murmuring of
the stream joined with the different notes of the birds in forming the
harmony of music. The sadness of his heart gradually became softened,
and, taking the violin out of the bag in which he always kept it, he
again imitated the various sounds he heard, the birds vieing with each
other to teach him something new.
Returning cheerfulness and the freshness of the air reminded Jackey
that he had not yet eaten anything, so he made a good breakfast off the
provisions put up by his father, not forgetting to give some crumbs to
the birds that gathered about him; and with a light heart he continued
his journey deeper into the forest. He thus wandered on all day, and
neither found the time long, nor was he weary; for there was constantly
something new to see, and hear, and imitate upon his dear fiddle. The
sun had sunk below the horizon, tingeing a few feathery clouds with a
beautiful pink, and the little wanderer saw no end to the forest; but
that did not trouble him, and he chose a soft mossy spot for a bed,
on which he lay down, and was soon fast asleep, forgetful of time and
everything else.
Nothing disturbed his quiet slumbers till about midnight, when a sudden
light flashing across his eyes awakened him. He started up, and saw
it as light as day all around. Yet it was not daylight; it was more
like the light of the moon, but milder and warmer. He looked through
some bushes, where the light seemed strongest, and stood transfixed
with amazement at what he saw. Hundreds of the most lovely beings were
dancing in a circle, whilst thousands of others seemed to fill the
air around. Some were sitting, swinging backwards and forwards, on
the different flowers, whilst others, in countless numbers, appeared
gliding up and down the rays of light. He thought he had never seen
anything so beautiful as the little aerial beings before him. Though so
very small--for they were not nearly the size of Jackey--their forms
were fully developed, and of the most exquisite elegance and grace.
The maidens in particular, who seemed all of the age of seventeen or
eighteen, were lovely in the extreme.
Jackey knew they must be fairies; and two of the number who were a
little taller, and, if possible, more beautiful than the rest, besides
that they wore silver crowns, he judged to be the king and the queen.
Dazzled by the light and the beauty of the scene before him, he was
for a time lost in admiration; but gradually the sweet tones, as the
fairies sang, gained the ascendancy, and all the other senses seemed
absorbed by that of hearing. As the fairies danced, they sang, and
were joined by thousands of other voices--in sounds, now of the most
lively merriment, then softly till they became solemn, when again they
burst forth in the wildest strains. The dance never ceased; but as some
withdrew from the ring their places were taken by others, who began the
song anew.
Jackey had no knowledge of time, whether the music continued for
minutes only or for hours; however, it became fainter and fainter till
it melted away, and he found himself in darkness; but long, long after
he lay down again it seemed as if he still heard the fairy song, and
when he awoke in the morning it still sounded in his ears.
[Illustration: _The Sight Jackey saw._]
"How lovely!" Jackey exclaimed; "oh, could I but imitate those sweet
sounds!" "Try," the violin said from its bag. "Well thought," Jackey
cried; and taking it out, immediately began to play the fairy song. He
played it over and over again, and each time better, till at length he
said, kissing his dear violin, "Well done, Fiddle, we can do it now."
Then Jackey ate his breakfast, and having tried the song once more, he
resumed his wanderings through the forest. He stopped several times to
play the fairy song again, trying also his other tunes, to see that
they had not been driven out of his memory by these still sweeter
sounds; and having had his breakfast very early, had made a finish of
his stock of provisions, but that did not trouble him, though there
seemed no end to the forest.
About mid-day, however, he began to feel hungry again, and hastened his
steps, in hopes of finding some outlet from the forest, or at least
some woodman's hut. He began to feel some anxiety for the future;
but he did not despair, for he was a good boy, and put his trust in
Providence. The birds sang merrily, as if to cheer him; and soon he
saw that the forest became lighter, nor was it long before he found
himself on the highway, and at no great distance stood a village.
Anxious as he was to reach some human habitations, when he was outside
the forest he turned round to bid it farewell, and thank his dear birds
for their kindness to him. A farewell sounded back, and cheerfully he
went on his way to the village. He remembered his father having said
that wheresoever he played he would be sure to find friends; and no
sooner did he reach the first houses, than he took out his violin and
began to play. First he played the voices of the forest, and soon all
the people were at their windows and their doors, listening to him; but
when he played the fairy song, they came out and surrounded him, and he
had to begin again and again.
There was now a contest amongst the principal inhabitants of the
village who should take the wonderful boy to their home, when the
clergyman and his wife carried him off.
Jackey would not accept their kindness without telling them that he
could not stay long, for his father had sent him to seek his fortune
in the world, that his father was not happy at home, and that he was
going back to fetch him as soon as he had made his fortune.
The good people promised that they would not keep him longer than he
felt inclined to remain with them. They were, however, so kind that
week after week still found him there, and he was so intelligent
and docile that every one loved him. Living now with people of good
education, Jackey soon felt his ignorance, and applied himself so
diligently to his studies, in which he was assisted both by the
clergyman and his wife, that he made rapid progress.
He did not neglect his music, and frequently went back into the
forest--no one interfering with his wanderings. Neither did he forget
his father, nor give up the intention of seeking his fortune in the
world, though he was delayed by the persuasion of his kind protectors,
who, however, gave their consent to his departure after he had been
with them about a year, providing him with every necessary for his
journey, as also with a small supply of money.
Jackey had improved as much in person as in mind, but retained his
former innocent simplicity of heart and kindly feelings, so that his
feathered friends loved him still, and he was as happy as the day was
long.
He visited one country after another, passing from village to village,
and from town to town; and wherever he played, both old and young
surrounded him, and every one was ready to befriend him. Thus year
after year passed away, and Jackey had grown to be a tall, handsome
youth of about nineteen, with flowing black hair, large dark eyes,
and an expression of cheerfulness and good humour. His playing was
celebrated far and wide, but, more particularly, when he played the
fairy song every one was carried away by admiration and surprise.
In each country he visited many inducements had been held out to detain
him; but a secret impulse drew him on till he came to a large and
powerful kingdom, which he found plunged in the deepest mourning; for
not only had the queen just died, but the most beautiful of princesses,
her daughter, was brought to the very verge of death by grief at the
loss of her beloved mother.
Her royal father, whose only child she was, in the utmost despair,
had promised half his kingdom to the physician who should save her;
but the only remedy the most learned could propose was any excitement
that would distract her from her grief, for it was that alone that
was consuming her. This remedy was beyond their art, and the king
proclaimed that whoever cured the princess should be the inheritor of
his throne and the husband of his daughter, if she consented to marry
him.
Jackey, on hearing this proclamation, determined to try what his art
could do to cure the princess, since all that was required was to
enliven her, and make her forget her grief. He trusted that, with
the help of Providence, he should succeed; and that, if even the
princess would not marry him, which he scarcely dared to hope, he might
still receive a reward sufficient to secure his old father's future
happiness, besides having the consolation of saving the life of a young
lady universally beloved.
He went boldly to the palace, where he was immediately admitted,
on stating what his errand was; for the king had given orders not to
refuse admittance to any one, however humble, who came to cure his
daughter.
[Illustration: _Jackey playing to the Princess._]
The king was much surprised and disappointed when he saw Jackey; but
after he had received an explanation of the means intended to be
employed, he became more reconciled, and ordered him to be conducted to
the princess's apartment.
Jackey gazed with admiration at the beautiful form before him; and to
the interest he before felt was added pity, for the princess lay in
bed with closed eyes and so pale as if death had already laid its icy
hand upon her. He felt that he would willingly lay down life itself to
restore colour and animation to that lovely face, and determined to
exert his utmost skill in her behalf.
First he played the voices of the forest--the soft breeze gliding
through the leaves, the low murmur of the stream, and the gentle
warbling of the birds; then, as the princess's attention was attracted,
he made his violin speak louder and louder, and the Princess exclaimed,
"How came I into the forest? Oh! how delightful it is! Sing on, you
darling birds!" At length she opened her eyes, and sitting up in the
bed, looked about her in amazement.
Jackey now played the fairy song; and when he had finished, she
said--"Go on, gentle Youth, I entreat you. You have been sent by heaven
to call me back to life." She sank back upon her pillow, and as Jackey
continued to play, she fell into a soft sleep, with a smile on her
lovely face.
The king, having been informed of all that had happened, hastened to
his daughter's room; and the calm expression of her features, together
with the assurance of the head physician that all danger had now passed
over, made him, for the moment, forget all his sorrow; and embracing
Jackey, he assured him of his everlasting gratitude.
The next day the princess awoke, restored to health; and when her
preserver was presented to her by the king, she received him with the
sweetest smile, and thanked him in the kindest terms. But that was not
all Jackey's reward; for when the princess was told of the promise made
by her royal father to whoever should save her life, she declared
herself ready to fulfil that promise, as soon as the time of mourning
for her departed mother had passed.
They were, however, betrothed before the whole court, and the king
publicly proclaimed that, next to himself, Jackey should be the first
in the land. An establishment in every way befitting a prince of the
royal blood was appointed him, and he lived in the closest intimacy
with the king and his amiable daughter.
Jackey, however, in all his splendour, and by the side of his future
bride, did not forget his old father, nor the promise he had made him;
so he begged permission of the king to go and visit him, which was
immediately granted.
He set out on his journey to the village where he was born, attended by
a numerous retinue, travelling day and night till he reached the forest
where he had learned the first notes of music, the foundation of all
his fortune. He remembered all the trees, but the whole generation of
birds that had known him had long since died. In his heart, however, he
thanked them for their kindness, and in remembrance of them he passed
on in silence, having left his attendants at the beginning of the
forest.
His heart beat with anxiety and fear, lest his father should no longer
be living, for it was more than ten years since he had left his home;
but when he reached the stream where he had first sat in the forest he
saw an old man sitting by its side. Jackey immediately recognized his
father, but the old man did not see him, for he was plunged in sorrow.
Wiping a tear from his eyes, he said, "Am I never to see my dear Jackey
again? For how many years have I come here every day, till gradually
all his friends have died off--and he, too, I am afraid, must be dead;
and I am the cause of his death, for it was I persuaded him to go out
into the world."
Jackey now took out his violin, which he had carried with him, and
played the tune with which he had first soothed his father's grief. The
old man recognized the notes, and he cried out, "That is my own Jackey!
Come to my arms, my dear Boy!"
It was long before either could find words; but then the old man
told him that his stepmother was dead; and Jackey related all his
adventures, and his present happiness and splendour. Jackey went with
his father to the village; but the next day he had him removed to where
he had left his followers, and they all returned, without loss of time,
to the king, and Jackey's future wife.
Jackey and his father were received with great rejoicings, and when the
time of mourning for the late queen was over, Jackey was married to the
lovely princess, with whom he spent a long life of happiness and peace,
reigning with justice and wisdom over the kingdom after the king and
his own old father were dead.
[Decoration]