Chapter 8

Sybella was overjoyed at the queen’s request, and immediately granted it, only telling the Princess Hebe, that it was absolutely necessary towards the attainment of this great blessing, that she should entirely obey the queen her mother, without ever pretending to examine her commands; for ‘true obedience (said she) consists in submission; and when we pretend to choose what commands are proper and fit for us, we don’t obey, but set up our own wisdom in opposition to our governors--this, my dear Hebe, you must be very careful of avoiding, if you would be happy.’ She then cautioned her against giving way to the persuasions of any of the young shepherdesses thereabouts, who would endeavour to allure her to disobedience, by striving to raise in her mind a desire of thinking herself wise, whilst they were tearing from her what was indeed true wisdom. ‘For (said Sybella) my sister Brunetta, who lives in the castle she drove me from (about a mile from this wood) endows young shepherdesses with great beauty, and everything that is in appearance amiable, and likely to persuade, in order to allure away and make wretched, those persons I would preserve: and all the wisdom with which I have endowed the Princess Hebe will not prevent her falling into my sister’s snares, if she gives the least way to temptation; for my father’s gift to Brunetta, in her infancy, enables her (as I told you) to succeed in all her designs, except they are resisted by the virtue of the person she is practising against. Many poor wretches has my sister already decoyed away from me, whom she now keeps in her castle; where they live in splendor and seeming joy, but in real misery, from perpetual jars and tumults, railed by envy, malice, and all the train of tumultuous and tormenting passions.’

The Princess Hebe said, she doubted not but she should be able to withstand any of Brunetta’s temptations. Her mother interrupting her, cried out, ‘Oh, my dear child, though you are endowed with wisdom enough to direct you in the way to virtue, yet if you grow conceited and proud of that wisdom, and fancy yourself above temptation, it will lead you into the worst of all evils.’ Here the fairy interposed, and told the Princess Hebe, that if she would always carefully observe and obey her mother, who had learned wisdom in that best school, adversity, she would then, indeed, be able to withstand and overcome every temptation, and would likewise be happy herself, and able to dispense happiness to all around her. Nothing was omitted by the fairy to make this retirement agreeable to her royal guests; and they had now passed near seven years in this delightful grove, in perfect peace and tranquillity; when one evening, as they were walking in the pleasant wood which surrounded their habitation, they espied under the shade, and leaning against the bark of a large oak, a poor old man, whose limbs were withered and decayed, and whose eyes were hollow, and sunk with age and misery. They stopped as soon as they saw him, and heard him in the anguish of his heart, with a loud groan, utter these words: ‘When will my sorrows end? Where shall I find the good fairy Sybella?’ The fairy immediately begged to know his business with her; and said, if his sorrows would end on finding Sybella, he might set his heart at ease; for she stood now before him, and ready to serve him, if his distresses were such as would admit of relief, and he could prove himself worthy of her friendship. The old Man appeared greatly overjoyed at having found the fairy, and began the following story:

‘I live from hence a thousand leagues. All this tiresome way have I come in search of you. My whole life has been spent in amassing wealth, to enrich one only son, whom I doted on to distraction. It is now five years since I have given him up all the riches I had laboured to get, only to make him happy. But, alas how am I disappointed! His wealth enables him to command whatever this world produces; and yet the poorest wretch that begs his bread cannot be more miserable. He spends his days in riot and luxury; has more slaves and attendants than wait in the palace of a prince; and still he sighs from morning till night, because, he says, there is nothing in this world worth living for. All his dainties only sate his palate, and grow irksome to his sight. He daily changes his opinion of what is pleasure; and, on the trial, finds none that he can call such; and then falls to sighing again, for the emptiness of all that he has enjoyed. So that, instead of being my delight, and the comfort of my old age, sleepless nights, and anxious days, are all the rewards of my past labours for him. But I have had many visions and dreams to admonish me, that if I would venture with my old frame to travel hither a-foot in search of the fairy Sybella, she had a glass, which if she showed him, he would be cured of this dreadful melancholy, and I have borne the labour and fatigue of coming this long tiresome way, that I may not breathe my last with the agonizing reflection, that all the labours of my life have been thrown away. But what shall I say to engage you to go with me? Can riches tempt, or praise allure you?’

‘No, (answered the fairy) neither of them has power to move me; but I compassionate your age; and if I thought I could succeed, would not refuse you. The glass which I shall bid him look in, will show him his inward self; but if he will not open both his eyes and heart enough to truth, to let him understand, that the pleasures he pursues not only are not but cannot be satisfactory, I can be of no sort of service to him. And know, old man, that the punishment you now feel is the natural result of your not having taught him this from his infancy; for, instead of heaping up wealth, to allure him to seek for happiness from such deceitful means, you should have taught him, that the only path to it was to be virtuous and good.’

The old man said, he heartily repented of his conduct, and on his knees so fervently implored Sybella’s assistance, that at last she consented to go with him. Then striking on the ground three times with her wand, the car and horses rose up, and placing the old Man by her, after taking leave of the queen, and begging the Princess Hebe to be careful to guard against all temptations to disobedience, she set out on her journey.

It being now come to the latest hour that Mrs. Teachum thought proper for her little scholars to stay out in the air, she told Miss Jenny that she must defer reading the remaining part of her story till the next day. Miss Jenny always with great cheerfulness obeyed her governess, and immediately left off reading; and said she was ready to attend her; and the whole company rose up to follow her.

Mrs. Teachum had so much judgment, that, perceiving such a ready obedience to all her commands, she now endeavoured, by all means she could think of; to make her scholars throw off that reserve before her, which must ever make it uneasy to them for her ever to be present whilst they were following their innocent diversions; for such was the understanding of this good woman, that she could keep up the authority of the governess in her school, yet at times become the companion of her scholars. And as she now saw, by their good behaviour, they deserved that indulgence, she took the little dumpling by the hand, and, followed by the rest, walked towards the house, and discoursed familiarly with them the rest of the evening, concerning all their past amusements.

SATURDAY. THE SIXTH DAY.

It was the custom on Saturdays to have no school in the afternoon, and it being also their writing day from morning-school till dinner, Mrs. Teachum, knowing how eager Miss Jenny’s hearers were for the rest of the story, accompanied them into the arbour, early in the afternoon, when Miss Jenny went on as follows:

THE FAIRY TALE CONTINUED.

The queen and the Princess Hebe remained, by the good fairy’s desire, in her habitation during her absence. They spent their time in serenity and content; the princess daily improving herself in wisdom and goodness, by hearkening to her mother’s instructions, and obeying all her commands, and the queen in studying what would be of most use to her child. She had now forgot her throne and palace, and desired nothing for her, than her present peaceful retreat. One morning, as they were sitting in a little arbour at the corner of a pleasant meadow, on a sudden they heard a voice, much sweeter than they had ever heard, warble through the following song:

A SONG.

Virtue, soft balm of every woe, Of ev’ry grief the cure, ‘Tis thou alone that canst best bestow Pleasures unmix’d and pure.

The shady wood, the verdant mead, Are Virtue’s flow’ry road; Nor painful are the steps which lead To her divine abode.

‘Tis not in palaces of halls, She or their train appear; Far off she flies from pompous walls; Virtue and Peace dwell here.

The queen was all attention, and at the end of the song she gazed around her, in hopes of seeing the person whose enchanting voice she had been so eagerly listening to, when she espied a young shepherdess, not much older than the Princess Hebe, but possessed of such uncommon and dazzling beauty, that it was some time before she could disengage her eyes from so agreeable an object. As soon as the young shepherdess found herself observed, she seemed modestly to offer to withdraw; but the queen begged her not to go till she had informed them who she was, that, with such a commanding aspect, had so much engaged them in her favour.

The shepherdess coming forward, with a bashful blush, and profound obedience, answered, that her name was Rozella, and she was the daughter of a neighbouring shepherd and shepherdess, who lived about a quarter of a mile from thence; and, to confess the truth, she had wandered thither, in hopes of seeing the young stranger, whose fame for beauty and wisdom had filled all that country round.

The Princess Hebe, well knowing of whom she spoke, conceived from that moment such an inclination fur her acquaintance, that she begged her to stay and spend that whole day with them in Placid Grove. Here the queen frowned upon her, for she had, by the fairy’s desire, charged her never to bring any one, without her permission, into that peaceful grove.

The young Rozella answered, that nothing could be more agreeable to her inclinations; but she must be at home by noon, for so in the morning had her father commanded her, and never yet in her life had she either disputed or disobeyed her parent’s commands. Here the young princess looked on her mother with eyes expressive of her joy at finding a companion, which she, and even the fairy herself, could not disapprove.

When Rozella took her leave, she begged the favour that the little Hebe (for so she called her, not knowing her to be a princess) might come to her father’s small cottage, and there partake such homely fare as it afforded; a welcome, she said, she could insure her; and though poor, yet from the honesty of her parents, who would be proud to entertain so rare a beauty, she was certain no sort of harm could happen to the pretty Hebe, from such a friendly visit; and she would be in the same place again tomorrow, to meet her, in hopes, as she said, to conduct her to her humble habitation.

When Rozella was gone, the queen, though highly possessed in her favour, both by her beauty and modest behaviour, yet pondered some time on the thought, whether or no she was a fit companion for her daughter. She remembered what Sybella had told her, concerning Brunetta’s adorning young shepherdesses with beauty, and other excellences, only to enable them the better to allure and entice others into wickedness. Rozella’s beginning her acquaintance too with the princess, by flattery, had no good aspect; and the sudden effect it had upon her, so as to make her forget, or wilfully disobey, her commands, by inviting Rozella to Placid Grove, were circumstances which greatly alarmed her. But, by the repeated entreaties of the princess, she gave her consent that she should meet Rozella the next day, and walk with her in that meadow, and in the wood, but upon no account should she go home with her, or bring Rozella back with her. The queen then, in gentle terms, chid the princess for her invitation to the young shepherdess, which was contrary to an absolute command; and said, ‘You must, my dear Hebe, be very careful to guard yourself extremely well against those temptations which wear the face of virtue. I know that your sudden affection to this apparent good girl, and your desire of her company, to partake with you the innocent pleasures of this happy place, arise from a good disposition; but where the indulgence of the most laudable passion, even benevolence and compassion itself, interferes with, or runs counter to your duty, you must endeavour to suppress it, or it will fare with you, as it did with that hen, who, thinking that she heard the voice of a little duckling in distress, flew from her young ones, to go and give it assistance, and following the cry, came at last to a hedge, out of which jumped a subtle and wicked fox, who had made that noise to deceive her, and devoured her in an instant. A kite at the same time, taking advantage of her absence, carried away, one by one, all her little innocent brood, robbed of that parent who should have been their protector.’ The princess promised her mother that she would punctually obey all her commands, and be very watchful and observant of everything Rozella said and did, till she had approved herself worthy of her confidence and friendship.

The queen the next morning renewed her injunctions to her daughter, that she should by no means go farther out of the wood than into the meadow, where she was to meet Rozella, and that she should give her a faithful account of all that should pass between them.

They met according to appointment, and the princess brought home so good an account of their conversation, which the queen imagined would help to improve, rather than seduce her child, that she indulged her in the same pleasure as often as she asked it. They passed some hours every day in walking round that delightful wood, in which were many small green meadows, with little rivulets running through them, on the banks of which, covered with primroses and violets, Rozella, by the side of her sweet companion, used to sing the most enchanting songs in the world: the words were chiefly in praise of innocence and a country life.

The princess came home every day more and more charmed with her young shepherdess, and recounted, as near as she could remember, every word that had passed between them. The queen very highly approved of their manner of amusing themselves; but again enjoined her to omit nothing that passed in conversation, especially if it had the least tendency towards alluring her from her duty.

One day, as the princess Hebe and Rozella were walking alone, and talking, as usual, of their own happy state, and the princess was declaring how much her own happiness was owing to her thorough obedience to her mother, Rozella, with a tone of voice as half in jest, said, ‘But don’t you think, my little Hebe, that if I take a very great pleasure in any thing that will do me no hurt, though it is forbidden, I may disobey my parents in enjoying it, provided I don’t tell them of it to vex them with the thought that I have disobeyed them? And then, my dear, what harm is done?’

‘Great harm (answered the princess, looking grave and half angry): I am ashamed to hear you talk so, Rozella. Are you not guilty of treachery, as well as disobedience? Neither ought you to determine that no harm is done, because you do not feel the immediate effects of your transgression; for the consequence may be out of our narrow inexperienced view; and I have been taught whenever my mother lays any commands on me, to take it for granted, she has some reason for so doing; and I obey her, without examining what those reasons are; otherwise, it would not be obeying her, but setting up my own wisdom, and doing what she bid me, only when I thought proper.’

They held a long argument on this head, in which Rozella made use of many a fallacy to prove her point; but the princess, as she had not yet departed from Truth, nor failed in her duty, could not be imposed upon. Rozella, seeing every attempt to persuade her was in vain, turned all her past discourse into a jest; said she had only a mind to try her; and was overjoyed to find her so steady in the cause of truth and virtue. The princess resumed her usual cheerfulness and good humour. Rozella sung her a song in praise of constancy of mind; and they passed the rest of the time they stayed together, as they used to do.

But, just before they parted, Rozella begged she would not tell her mother of the first part of the conversation that had passed between them. The princess replied, that it would be breaking through one of her mother’s commands, and therefore she dared not grant her request. Then, said Rozella, ‘Here I must for ever part with my dear little Hebe. Your mother, not knowing the manner in which I spoke, will have an ill opinion of me, and will never trust you again in my company. Thus will you be torn from me; and loss will be irreparable.’ These words she accompanied with a flood of tears, and such little tendernesses, as quite melted the princess into tears also. But she still said, that she could not dare to conceal from her mother anything that had happened, though she could not but own, she believed their separation would be the consequence. ‘Well then (cried Rozella) I will endeavour to be contented, as our separation will give you less pain than what you call this mighty breach of your duty: and though I would willingly undergo almost any torments that could be invented, rather than be debarred one moment the company of my dearest Hebe, yet I will not expect that she should suffer the smallest degree of pain, or uneasiness, to save me from losing what is the whole pleasure of my life.’

The princess could not bear the thought of appearing ungrateful to such a warm friendship as Rozella expressed; and, without farther hesitation, promised to conceal what she had said, and to undergo anything, rather than lose so amiable a friend.

After this they parted. But when the princess entered the Grove, she did not, as usual, run with haste and joy into the presence of her indulgent mother; for her mind was disturbed: she felt a conscious shame on seeing her, and turned away her face, as wanting to shun the piercing look of that eye, which she imagined would see the secret lurking in her bosom. Her mother observed with concern her downcast look, and want of cheerfulness. And asking her what was the matter, she answered, her walk had fatigued her, and she begged early to retire to rest. Her kind mother consented; but little rest had the poor princess that whole night, for the pain of having her mind touched with guilt, and the fear she was under of losing her dear companion, kept her thoughts in one continued tumult and confusion. The fairy’s gift now became her curse; for the power of seeing what was right, as she had acted contrary to her knowledge, only tormented her.

She hastened the next morning to meet Rozella, and told her all that had passed in her own mind the preceding night; declaring that she would not pass such another for the whole world; but yet would not dispense with her promise to her, without her consent; and therefore came to ask her leave to acquaint her good mother with all that had passed: ‘For (said she) my dear Rozella, we must, if we would be happy, do always what is right, and trust for the consequences.’ Here Rozella drew her features into the most contemptuous sneer imaginable, and said, ‘Pray what are all these mighty pains you have suffered? Are they not owing only to your want of sense enough to know, that you can do your mother no harm, by concealing from her this, or anything else that will vex her? and, my dear girl (continued she) when you have once entered into this way of thinking, and have put this blind duty out of your head, you will spend no more such restless nights, which you must see was entirely owing to your own imaginations.’

This startled the princess to such a degree, that she was breaking from her, but, putting on a more tender air, Rozella cried, ‘And can you then, my dear Hebe, determine to give me up for such a trifling consideration?’ Then raising her voice again, in a haughty manner, she said, ‘I ought to despise and laugh at you for your folly, or at best pity your ignorance, rather than offer a sincere friendship to one so undeserving.’

The princess, having once swerved from her duty, was now in the power of every passion that should attack her.

Pride and indignation, at the thought of being despised, bore more sway with her, than either her duty or affection to her fond mother; and she was now determined, she said, to think for herself, and make use of her own understanding, which she was convinced would always teach her what was right. Upon this Rozella took her by the hand, and, with tears of joy, said, ‘Now, my dearest girl, you are really wise, and cannot therefore (according to your own rule) fail of being happy. But to show that you are in earnest in this resolution, you shall this morning go home with me to my father’s cot; it is not so far off, but you will be back by the time your mother expects you; and as that will be obeying the chief command, it is but concealing from her the thing that would vex her, and there will be no harm done.’ Here a ray of truth broke in upon our young princess; but as a false shame, and fear of being laughed at, had now got possession of her, she, with a soft sigh, consented to the proposal.

Rozella led the way. But just as they were turning round the walk, which leads out of the wood, a large serpent darted from one side out of a thicket, directly between them, and turning its hissing mouth towards the princess, as seeming to make after her, she fled hastily back, and ran with all her speed towards the grove, and panting for breath, flew into the arms of her ever kind protectress.

Her mother was vastly terrified to see her tremble, and look so pale; and as soon as she was a little recovered, asked her the occasion of her fright, and added (with tears running down her cheeks) ‘I am afraid, my dear Hebe, some sad disaster has befallen you, for, indeed, my child, I but too plainly saw last night--’

Here the princess was so struck with true shame and confusion, for her past behaviour, that she fell down upon her knees, confessed the whole truth, and implored forgiveness for her fault.

The queen kindly raised her up, kissed and forgave her. ‘I am overjoyed, my dear child (said she) at this your sweet repentance, though the effect of mere accident, as it appears but sent, without doubt, by some good fairy, to save you from destruction; and I hope you are thoroughly convinced, that the serpent which drove you home, was not half so dangerous as the false Rozella.’

The princess answered, that she was thoroughly sensible of the dangers she had avoided, and hoped she never should again, by her own folly and wickedness, deserve to be exposed to the danger from which she had so lately escaped.

Some days passed, without the princess’s offering to stir out of the grove; and in that time she gave a willing and patient ear to all her mother’s instructions, and seemed thoroughly sensible of the great deliverance she had lately experienced. But yet there appeared in her countenance an uneasiness, which the queen wishing to remove, asked her the cause of.