the big boy, who, crimson with indignation, and yet quite
self-possessed in manner, walked up to Joachim and deliberately
knocked him down on the floor. Great was Joachim's amazement, you may
be sure, and severe was the blow that had levelled him; but still more
severe were the words that followed. "Young rascal," exclaimed the big
boy, "who has put _you_ in authority over your elders, that you are to
be correcting our faults and failings, instead of attending to your
own. You are beholden to any lad in the school who will do your sums,
and write your exercises for you, and then you take upon yourself to
ridicule us if we cannot pronounce our well learnt lessons to your
fancy! You saucy imp, who don't know what labour and good conduct are,
and who have nothing to boast of, but the powers which a monkey
possesses to a greater extent than yourself!" Fancy Joachim's rage!
_He_, the admired wit! the popular boy! nothing better than a monkey!
He sprang up and struck his fist into the face of his antagonist with
such fury, that the big boy, though evidently unwilling to fight one
less than himself, was obliged to bestow several sharp blows before he
could rid himself of Joachim's passion.
At last, however, other boys separated them; but Joachim, who was
quite unused to fighting, and who had received a very severe shock
when he first fell, became so sick and ill that he was obliged to go
home. His Mother asked what was the matter. "He had been quizzing a
great big boy who lisped, and the boy knocked him down, and they had
fought." His Mother sighed; but she saw he was too poorly for talking,
so she put him to bed and nursed him carefully.
Now, you may say, what had this Mother been about, not to have found
out and corrected Joachim's fault before? First, he was very little at
home, and as owing to the help of others, his idleness had not become
notorious, she had heard no complaints from the Masters, and thinking
he did his lessons well, she felt averse to stopping his fun and
amusements in holiday hours. Still, she had latterly begun to have
misgivings which this event confirmed. In a few days Joachim was
better, and came down stairs, and his Aunt and two or three Cousins
called to enquire after him. Their presence revived Joachim's flagging
spirits, and all the boys got together to talk and laugh. Soon their
voices echoed through the house. Joachim was at his old tricks again,
and the Schoolboys, the Ushers and the Master all furnished food for
mirth. His Cousins roared with delight. "Clever child!" exclaimed his
Aunt, "what a treasure you are in a house! one could never be dull
where _you_ are!" "Sister, Sister!" cried Joachim's Mother, "do not
say so!" "My dear," said the Aunt, "are you dull enough to be unable
to appreciate your own child's wit; oh, I wish you would give him to
me. Come here, my dear Joachim, and do the boy that walks so badly
once more for me; it's enough to kill one to see you take him off!"
Joachim's spirits rose above all control. Excited by his Aunt's
praise and the sense of superior ability, he surpassed himself. He
gave the bad walker to perfection; then imitated a lad who had
commenced singing lessons, and whose voice was at present broken and
bad. He even gave the big boy's lisp once more, and followed on with a
series of pantomimic exhibitions.
All at once, he cast his eyes on his Mother's face--that face so full
of intelligence and the mild sorrow of years of widowhood, borne with
resigned patience. Her eyes were full of tears, and there was not a
smile on her countenance. Joachim's conscience--he knew not
why--twinged him terribly. He stopped suddenly; "Mother!"
"Come here, Joachim!" He came.
"Is that boy whom you have been imitating--your Aunt says so
cleverly--the _best_ walker of all the boys in your school?"
"The _best_, Mother?" and the puzzled Joachim could not suppress a
smile. His Cousins grinned.
"Dear Mother, of course not," continued Joachim, "on the contrary, he
is the very worst!"
"Oh--well, have you no _good_ walkers at your school?"
"Oh yes, several; indeed one especially; his father was a soldier, he
walks beautifully."
"Does he, Joachim? Let me see you walk like him, my dear."
Joachim stepped boldly enough into the middle of the room, and drew
himself up; but a sudden consciousness of his extreme inferiority to
the soldier's son, both in figure, manner and mode of walking, made
him feel quite sheepish. There was a pause of expectation.
"Now then!" said Joachim's Mother.
"I cannot walk like _him_, Mother," said Joachim.
"Why not?"
"Because he walks so _very well_!"
"Oh,"--said Joachim's Mother.
There was another pause.
"Come, Joachim," continued the Widow, "I am very anxious to admire you
as much as your Aunt does. You are not tired; let us have some more
exhibitions. You gave us a song just now horribly out of tune, and
with the screeching voice of a bagpipe."
"I was singing like Tom Smith," interrupted Joachim.
"Is he your best singer?" enquired the Mother. Another laugh followed.
"Nay, Mother, no one sings so badly."
"Indeed! How does the Singing Master sing, Joachim?"
"Oh, Mother," cried Joachim, "so beautifully, it would make the tears
come into your eyes with pleasure, to listen to him."
"Well, but as I cannot listen to him, let me, at all events, have the
pleasure of hearing my clever son imitate him," was the reply.
Joachim was mute. He had a voice, though not a remarkable one, but he
had shirked the labour of trying to improve it by practice. He made
one effort to sing like the Master, but overpowered by a sense of
incapacity, his voice failed, and he felt disposed to cry.
"Why, Joachim, I thought you were such a clever creature you could
imitate any thing," cried the Mother.
No answer fell from the abashed boy, till a sudden thought revived
him.
"But I _can_ imitate the singing-master, Mother."
"Let me hear you, my dear child."
"Why it isn't exactly what you can hear," observed Joachim
murmuringly; "but when he sings, you have no idea what horrible faces
he makes. Nay, it's true, indeed, he turns up his eyes, shuts them,
distorts his mouth, and swings about on the stool like the pendulum of
a clock!"
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 amusement; 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 noble 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 God. 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 Künstler."
"You might, if you chose, _imitate every thing that is good, and
noble, 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 amusement 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 shore. 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 à Kempis, and though more practical books of
piety have since been written, the idea contained in the title
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 nobody could
bear to walk out by the wild sea shore.
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
glass 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 passes 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 passages, 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 nobody 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 passages
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 shore as well
as the gardens, though they loved both. Not that there was any
amusement 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 shore for landing, it is an amusement 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 shore 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.
Nobody 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.