Chapter 6

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.

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 circumstances--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 circumstances, 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 assistance, 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 shells would be thrown ashore by a wave at the children's feet, as if tossed up especially for their amusement. And it was only in some such kind little way as this they were ever reminded of the Fairy's existence.

Lady Madeline's eldest son, Roderick, always seemed most favoured by the Fairy in the pretty things she sent ashore, and certainly he was a very nice boy, and a very good one on the whole--cheerful and honest as the daylight, and very intelligent; but I cannot tell you, dear readers, that he had _no_ faults, for that was not at all likely, and you would not believe it if I said so, even although he is to be the Hero of my tale.

Now I do not want to make you laugh at him, but the story requires that I should reveal to you one of his weak points. Well then, although he was six years old, he was afraid of being alone in the dark! Sometimes when he was in the large dining room with his Father and Mother at dinner time, she would perhaps ask him to fetch something for her from the drawing room which was close by; but, do you know, if there were no candles in the room, he would look very silly and refuse to go, even though there were a fire sufficient to see by. He was too honest to make any false excuses, so he used just to say that the room was so dark he could not go!

Poor Madeline was very sorry, for she wanted her little boy to be brave, but somehow or other he had got very silly about his fears of being in the dark, and she could not succeed in curing him of his folly.

"My dear Roderick," she would say sometimes, "if I send in some candles, will you go into the drawing room?"

"O yes, Mamma."

"Then do you really mean to say you think _the Candles take care of you_?"

"No, Mamma."

"Then why won't you go into the room without; you know there is a fire?

"Because it is so dark, Mamma."

Here was a difficulty indeed; for you see he _would_ come back to the old point, and would not listen to reason.

One day some conversation of this sort having passed between them, Madeline, as she was wont to do, asked him if God could not take care of him by night as well as by day; in the dark as well as in light, for "the darkness and light are both alike to him."

"Oh yes," cried poor Roderick, with great animation, "and I can tell you a story about that. There was, once upon a time, a little Boy and a Nurse who went out walking, and they walked so long they got benighted in a very dark wood, and because it was so dark the Nurse screamed and was very much frightened; and the little boy said, 'Nurse, why are you frightened? Don't be frightened; I am not frightened. God can take care of us in the dark as well as in the light,'"

"Oh Roderick! what a pretty story," cried his Mamma.

And so thought Roderick; for his eye glistened and his cheek flushed as he came to the conclusion.

And here, dear readers, was the worst difficulty of all; for though Roderick's reason was quite convinced that God could take care of him in the dark, he still could not bear to be in the dark without the help of candles besides, though he quite knew they could not take care of him at all. So you see by this that Reason, though it may convince a person he is wrong, cannot put him right. There wants some other help for that. And here let me just stop a moment to beg you to beware of _bad habits_; for you see they become at last more powerful than reason itself.

I do not know how Roderick first got into his foolish habit, and it does not much matter. I know he at one time had a fancy there was something unpleasant about the pipes that carried the water about the house, and he would not for a long time go by the pipes alone. Now, how you laugh! well, but he got out of that nonsense; and I hope to be able to tell you that he got out of the other too: but at the time I speak of, he made his Mamma full of sorrow for his want of sense and courage.

It must be admitted that there were one or two excuses to be made for the child. There was a great contrast between the Town House and the Sea Castle. The Town House was full of lights. All the sitting rooms were generally lighted, for a great deal of company came there, and there were always lights along the passages; and the nursery windows looked into a square, and the square was lighted up by lamps every night; and it was one of Roderick's greatest pleasures to watch the lamplighter running quickly up the tall ladder to the lamps to light them, and then popping down again equally hurriedly, and running along (ladder and all) to the next lamp post, and so on, till the square was brilliant all round; and very often, as Roderick lay in his little bed watching the glimmering thrown by these pretty lamps on the nursery wall, he used to think and think of his friend the nimble lamplighter, till he dropped fast asleep. You see, therefore, he had very little to try his courage in the Town House, and there was seldom or never any fuss about his fears till the move to the Sea Castle took place; and then there were no more lamps and lamplighters, and no more comfortable glimmerings from his bright pets the lamps after he went to bed; and he used to get silly directly, and declare that he saw bears whenever he shut his eyes; and he seemed to expect to find lions and tigers under the sofas, by the fuss he made when he was asked to go into the rooms. Certainly there was a grand old fashioned lamp in the hall of the Sea Castle; but the hall itself was so big, and went up so high, that the light in one part only seemed to make the shadow and darkness of the other part look blacker still; so that I must confess there was something gloomy about the house. Then, too, there were those two turrets with the winding staircases, and as Roderick had never dared to do any thing more than peep in at the low entrance doors below, where he saw nothing but four or five steps going up into complete blackness, he had got a sort of notion there must be something horrid about them.

Well; it was soon after this little boy's sixth birthday, that the family arrived at the Sea-Castle, and it so happened, that, on the day after their arrival, there was some very stormy and dismal weather. The wind howled very loudly, and there was a good deal of rain; and Lady Madeline wished they had waited a week or two longer. The sky was so charged and heavy, too, that they found the house very dark, even by day-light; and Roderick, who was a little tired with his journey the day before, began to fancy all kinds of nonsense; talked more about seeing bears than ever; and finally cried tremendously at going to bed, declaring he was sure there was a tiger in the coal-pan. Now you know, my dears, this was a bit of great nonsense; for Roderick knew quite well that there are no wild beasts in England but what are kept in very strong cages; and that the men who take wild-beast shows round the country can by no means afford to let their tigers sleep in nursery coal-pans!

Poor Madeline never liked to see any of her children go to bed in tears. And Roderick was so gay and merry generally, it seemed quite unnatural in him; but though at last he left off crying, she could not persuade him to be cheerful, and smile; for he declared that as soon as ever she took her candle away, he could not help seeing those unlucky bears. Was there ever any thing so silly before! She reasoned with him, but to no purpose. He always said he quite believed in God's presence, and His being able to take care of him; but, as I said before, his bad habit had got the better of his good sense, and he finished off every thing that could be said, by seeing bears, and dreading a tiger in the coal-pan.

"What are we to do with that child?" cried Madeline to her husband, as they were going to bed. "He is beginning as foolishly as ever this year, in spite of being a year older. I really shall at last be inclined to think that in spite of all her fair promises of friendship and assistance, and of never injuring the family, the Fairy Eudora must secretly frighten the child in some way we don't know of."

"No such thing, my dear Madeline; I cannot for a moment believe it;" said her husband. "I have a better opinion of your relations, the Fairies, than you have yourself. I am sure Eudora would not break her word for the world; and there is no mystery about Roderick's folly. He is full of fancies of all sorts,--some pretty, and some silly ones; and we must do every thing we can to cure him of the silly ones. It certainly is a very hard matter to accomplish, for I perceive he admits the truth of every thing you say, and yet is as silly as ever at the end. I heartily wish the Fairy Eudora _would_ interfere to cure him of his nonsense!"

"And so do I, if she could, and would," sighed Madeline; "but she has quite deserted us. Besides, if she were to come, I don't see how she could possibly do any good. Fairies cannot change little boys' hearts; and I must confess I never yet got any good myself from having a Fairy ancestress, and I have no confidence in them.--Still," pursued the good lady, as she laid her head on her pillow, "I am not able, it appears, to convince Roderick myself; and therefore I feel, with you, that I wish the Fairy would come and try."

"I fear it is in vain to say so now, Madeline. We have wished the poor creature out of the way so often for the last ten years, that it is not very likely a single wish the other way will bring her to us."

"No, indeed," murmured the Fairy Eudora, who at that moment was standing on the shore of the Fairy Island; "you are a pretty pair, you two, to think of such a thing! I begged to be allowed to come about the place years ago, and you didn't refuse; but you always kept me away by _wishing_ I mightn't come; and now, because you are puzzled to know what to do with your silly child, you want me with you for the first time these ten years! Oh, you selfish people, don't fancy I'll come near you!" And the justly angry Fairy stamped her foot in indignation, and retired into private apartments in the palace.

Do not be surprised at what you have just heard, my dear children; for though you may have never thought about the power and importance of _wishes_, there is, I assure you, a great deal of both one and the other belonging to them. Some people talk, indeed, of "mere wishes," as if they were trifles light as air; but it is not so. To prove this, first think what importance is attached to them in the Scriptures. Wishes are a sort of porch or doorway to actions. In the Tenth Commandment we are forbidden to _wish_ for what belongs to our neighbour;--for who is so likely to break the Eighth Commandment, and steal, as the man who breaks the Tenth, and wishes for any thing that is not his?

And so, all the evil in the world begins by _wishing_ something wrong; and if you can cure yourself of wishing wrongly, you will very seldom _do_ wrong.

Now you see, I am sure, how important wishes are for evil; but they are equally strong for good. For, if you wish well to any one, you have opened the first door to doing him a kindness. And if you heartily wish to be good, you have opened the first gate on the road of becoming so. Of course, wishes will not do every thing; but they do a great deal.

And there is another thing. They never fall to the ground unnoticed. Though you and I cannot look into each other's hearts, or hear the wishes breathed there, there is One who hears them all. Good wishes, my dear children, all ascend upwards to the throne of Grace, like sweet perfume. They are all accepted and remembered; and, I fear I must add, that bad wishes go up too, and are noted in His book who takes account of all we do.

Be sure, therefore, that you encourage your hearts in a habit of good, and kind, and charitable wishes; and if ever the bad ones come into your head, pray against them, and drive them away.

Meanwhile do not be surprized that in Fairy tales, Fairies are supposed to hear wishes concerning themselves. And so Eudora heard those about her coming and curing the child of his folly; and as I have told you, she was very indignant at the selfishness of both Lady Madeline and her husband.