Fanny Fern

“ And when George had grown up to be a man, and long after his good father’s white head was under the sod, George used to speak often of his lifting him up to look into a black-bird’s nest, and of the delight and wonder with which he gazed at the little peeping creatures for the first time. I dare say your father and mother can tell you some such little thing which they remember about their childhood’s home, which stands out in their memory now, from the mist of years, like a lovely picture, sunny and glowing and untouched by time. ”

“ The French people did not relish having Napoleon’s son at an Austrian court. Not they. They disliked Maria Louisa, the young duke’s mother, who never said such gracious, graceful things, as did the kind, whole-souled Josephine, who brought them all at her feet with one of her beautiful, sunny smiles. Maria Louisa was quite another thing, with her skim-milk face, as rigid when they saluted her, as if they hadn’t a drop of generous blood in their bodies. They needn’t have fretted lest the little duke should grow up like his mother, if he grew up at all ”

“ And sometimes in her sleep she kicks her little fat leg, with its pretty white foot, and pink toes, out on the coverlet, just as if she were fixing herself for a pretty picture that some artist might paint her. And when she wakes, she puts her little cheek up against yours to be loved and kissed, and—but dear me, you will think I am quite a fool, if I go on this way; and I shouldn’t wonder; for it really is true that I am never tired of telling dear little Effie’s perfections all the same as if she were the only lovely baby that was ever born ”

“ All this time I was looking around curiously, as a child will, at the old-fashioned paper on the walls, with its pink shepherdesses and green dogs; at the old-fashioned fireplace, with its pitcher of asparagus branches, dotted with little red berries; at the high-post bedstead, with its rainbow-colored patchwork quilt, of all conceivable shapes and sizes; at its high-backed, stiff-looking chairs, with straw seats; at its china parrot on the mantel, and its framed sampler on the wall, with the inevitable tombstone and weeping willow, and afflicted female, handkerchief in hand. ”

“ You can imagine the feelings of his master as he afterward bound up his wounds, and when the innkeeper and his accomplices were handed over to justice, how tenderly he carried the dog in his arms till he reached his home; how the nobleman’s wife and children hugged and petted him, and made a soft bed for his wounded limb; and how the tears came into their eyes, whenever they thought how generously he had taken his revenge for being turned out of doors. Ah, it will not do for us to call those “brutes” whose daily lives put ours to shame! ”

“ One day, while little Adrian sat in the shop where his mother sold her needlework, an artist happened to pass, and, stopping at the window, watched through the glass the little Adrian as he drew the patterns. After a while he went in, and asked the boy if he would not like to become an artist. “Oh, yes!” he almost screamed out; “better than anything in this world, if my mother is only willing!” The poor woman was glad enough of the offer, and little Adrian went home with his master as happy—not “as a king,” for that’s a lying phrase—but as happy as a little robin of a bright spring morning. ”

“ One cannot tell what is obstinacy and what disease. One fears to be harsh and cruel to a little crippled thing; the pale face appeals so irresistibly to a kind heart; and “What if he should die?” is apt to decide all doubts in the child’s favor. And then, a child almost unbearably irritable, the first years of its life, grows sweet-tempered, docile, and affectionate, with returning health. But I have rambled a long way from my story—of lame little Walter Scott, who was sent to his grandfather, to “Sandy Knowe,” for change of air, in charge of his nurse. ”

“ You ask, what of the child—the little duke, whose birth this noble woman unselfishly rejoiced over, because it made Napoleon so happy? Ah! it is of him I would now tell you. This little duke, the child of so many hopes, did he, after all, sit upon the throne of France? God is just. We shall see.
The Emperor of Austria was the little duke’s maternal grandfather. It was to his palace the little, pale child was taken. It was the wish of this grandfather, who, notwithstanding all the stories told to the contrary, dearly loved the boy, to make a German prince of him. ”

“ At last Aunt Maggie turned down an alley, dark, narrow, and dingy, and entering one of the low doors, began to ascend the creaky stairs, that seemed swarming with children, of all sorts and sizes, dwarfed in the cradle by disease and neglect. When Aunt Maggie reached the top flight, she stopped before a door, through which came the faint wailing of a little babe, and the low lullaby of a woman’s voice. Upon the bed, opposite the door, lay the dead woman, with a sheet thrown over her face. ”

“ Of course, a good teacher endeavors to be equally faithful to all the pupils who are intrusted to him—the stupid and wayward, as well as the studious. But there must be to him a peculiar pleasure in helping, guiding, and watching over a pupil so eager to acquire. The mother bird, who coaxes her fledglings to the edge of the nest, and, by circling flights overhead, invites them to follow, understands, of course, how the little, cowering thing, who sits crouched on a neighboring twig, may be too indolent, or too timid to go farther ”

“ At Miss Woolen’s school, Charlotte formed an agreeable intimacy with two schoolmates—young ladies of her own age. This was a great benefit to her, because she had been made so prematurely old in her feelings, by loneliness and sorrow. One cannot help catching animation and hope from a bright, joyous, fresh-hearted, breezy companion, though one is ever so apt to look on the gloomy side of things. And so it is quite cheering to know that, upon leaving Miss Woolen’s school, and going back to her father’s dull house, these young girls exchanged letters and visits with one another. ”

“ My dear children, how can anybody ever do wrong? How can you ever vex your dear mother, who is so good to you, and go pouting to bed, and never tell her that you are “sorry”? and still, while you are sleeping, that dear, good, forgiving mother stoops over your little bed, and kisses your forehead, and looks to see if you are warm and comfortable, before she can sleep, the same as if you had been a good child, instead of a bad one. ”

“ I dare say your father may have hung some on his parlor, or study, or chamber walls, and perhaps you have often sat alone in those rooms, looking at them and thinking. They were pleasant company for you—you liked the shapely trees and contented cattle, the beautiful clouds, and the grass that you could almost see waving, as the fragrant breeze swept by. You thought, perhaps, how well the artist must have studied nature, and with what a loving eye, thus successfully to create it ”

“ How much less gentle is nurse’s touch than hers; how much sooner she wearies of answering little curious questions, and getting bits of string and toys for restless fingers to play with; how much longer seems the time now, before papa comes home to dinner and tea,—poor papa—who, 233with an iron hand, crushes down his own great sorrow and tries and fails to speak to them in her soft, sweet, winning way; and tries and fails to soothe their little insect griefs, though he would die to save them a heart-pang. ”

“ He is old, and it may seem to him the least troublesome way to manage; or, being so near the grave, love may seem to the poor old man the most precious thing while he stays here; and he will long have slept his last sleep, before that pretty but willful boy will know enough to love him better for restraining him. And so old grandpa, wanting all the love he can get, from everybody, before his heart grows cold forever, won’t see the child’s little tricks, or, if he does, but says, “Ah, well, he’s only a child!” ”

“ Josephine was young and happy; why should she wish to be “great”? The old mulatto woman might chatter all day; she did not chirp one sweet note the less. Unlike Napoleon, she disliked study. Her mother, Madame Tascher, used to threaten her with a convent if she did not skip less and study more. “My good and pretty child,” she would say to her, “your heart is excellent, but your head—ah, what a head! I must send you away from home to France, among companions who, knowing more than yourself, will show you how ignorant you are.” ”

“ Andrew was a good son to his mother; he was honest, and truthful, and kind to her always. He never forgot her as long as he lived. He used often, when President of the United States, to stop in the midst of his conversation, and say, 75reverently and proudly, “That I learned from my good mother!”
One cannot help feeling sad that she should have lived long enough only to bear the burden and heat of the day, and not share with her boy its calm repose and reward. And yet, who can believe that a mother and son so loving are divided, though one crosses alone the dark river before the other? ”

“ Perhaps you are poor, and meanly clad, and poorly fed; and it seems to you that God is not good and just, to make such a difference between you and another child of your own age, who seems to be born only to have everything it wants, and to rule over others? 132Have you never, when walking in the field, spied upon some rocky height, a gaudy flower, which you imagined to be sweet-scented and beautiful? Have you never torn your clothes, and sprained your limbs, and nearly put your eyes out with briers, to get it, only to find it, when obtained, nauseous, and full of thorns? ”

“ But the poor little baby and his mother, happy in their mutual love, knew little enough of all this. 57A good, loving mother she was, Agnes by name; keeping her house in order with a matron’s pride; chanting old songs and ballads to her baby-boy, as she glided cheerfully about; not discouraged when things went wrong on the farm, and the crops failed, and the table was scantily supplied with food—singing, hoping, trusting, loving still; a very woman, over whose head cottages might tumble, so that her heart was but satisfied. ”

“ Isn’t her elder sister always your “favorite,” and was she ever known to like her breakfast, dinner or supper, or prefer wholesome food to sweet and dyspeptic messes? Is she ever ready to go to bed of a night, or get up of a morning? Don’t she always insist on wearing high heels to her boots, which are constantly putting her feet where her head should be? Don’t she always, though consulted as to the hues and make of her garments, fret at the superior color and fit of those of Adelina Seraphina Elgitha Smith’s? ”

“ Byron had a weary life of it; and little George, hearing his mother say violent words, when her misery pressed hard upon her, learned to say them, too; and set his handsome lips together, till he looked like a little fiend; and tore his frocks to tatters when things did not suit him; and later, when he was too old for this, he used to turn so deadly pale with speechless rage, that one would almost rather have encountered the violent words of his childhood.
A mother who cannot, or does not, control herself, cannot, of course, control her child ”

“ Who straightened out the little waxen limbs for the coffin when papa and mamma were blind with tears? Who gathered up the little useless robes and shoes and toys, and hid them away from torturing sight till heaven’s own balm was poured into those aching hearts? “Haven’t you got a grandmother?” Alas! if only our grown up follies and faults might always find as merciful judgment, how many whom harshness and severity have driven to despair and crime, were now to be found useful and happy members of society! ”

“ You would understand then, how hard it is to keep from spoiling her; not by loving her too much; that never hurt anybody; but by giving her everything she wants, whether it is best for her or not, just because it is so heart-breaking to see the tears on her cheeks. That would never do, you know, not even for little motherless Effie; for how is she ever to become good, if she can get everything she wants by crying for it? ”

“ Oh, nobody who has not dropped from such a height of happiness down to that dreadful “now” can tell how bruised the poor heart may be by the fall! God help little Jemmy and all like him, who have sorrows all the greater that they must bear the burden alone; that they are unspeakable sorrows, save to Him who will never taunt us with their heavy burden, or turn to us a careless ear.
You may be sure that when Jemmy grew up he never drank. Long before the beard grew on his soft, white chin, his father’s bloated face was hidden under a tombstone ”

“ Every week he went back to the dungeon, and every week did this heroic boy lose two teeth, one for himself one for his brother; but alas! his bodily strength began to fail, though his little lion heart was strong as ever. His limbs no longer sustained him; he doubled up in the bottom of the cage, and tried to put out his hand to his little brother.
“Frank,” said he, “I am dying; but perhaps, some time, you may get out; if you should, and you should find our mother, oh, tell her how I love her, just as I am about to die. Good by, Frank! ”

“ They knew, when Napoleon opened his mouth, that he had something to say. It is all very fine for boys to dodge school duties, and school tasks. Ah! how many of them, in after life, would give worlds to recall those wasted hours in some great crisis, when strong, powerful, well-chosen words, from him who knows how to use them, would place in their hands so mighty a sceptre for the defense of human rights! ”