A Christmas Fantasy with a moral by Thomas Bailey Aldrich, originally from the Century
Volume forty three, Issue two, eighteen ninety one. Her name was Mildred
Wentworth, and she lived on the slope of Beacon Hill in one of those
old fashioned swell front houses which have the inestimable privilege of looking upon Boston Common.
It was Christmas afternoon, and she had gone up to the blue room
on the fourth floor in order to make a careful inspection in solitude of the
various gifts that had been left in her slender stocking and at her bedside the
previous night. Mildred was in some respects a very old child for her age,
which she described as being half past seven, and had a habit of
spending hours alone in the large front chamber occupied by herself and the Governess.
This day, the Governess had gone to keep Christmas with her own family in
South Boston, and it so chanced that Mildred had been left to dispose of
her time as she pleased during the entire afternoon. She was well content to
have the opportunity, for fortune had treated her magnificently, and it was deep
satisfaction after the excitement of the morning, to sit in the middle of that
spacious room with its three windows, overlooking the pearl crusted trees in the common,
and examine her treasures without any chance of interruption. The looms of Cashmere
and the workshops of Germany. The patient Chinaman and the irresponsible polar bear had
alike contributed to those treasures. Among other articles, was a small square box,
covered with modeled paper and having an outlandish, mysterious aspect, as if
it belonged to to a magician. When you loosened the catch of this box,
possibly supposing it to contain bond bonds of a superior quality, there sprang
forth a terrible little monster, with a drifting white beard like a snow storm,
round emerald green eyes, and a pessimistic expression of countenance, generally as
though he had been reading Tolstoy or Schopenhauer. This abrupt personage, whose family
name was Heliogabulus, was known for simplicity's sake as jumping Jack, And though
the explanation of the matter is beset with difficulties, it is not to be
concealed that he held a higher place in the esteem of Miss Wentworth than any
of her other possessions, not excluding a tall wax doll fond de siircle with
a pallid complexion and a profusion of blonde hair. Titania was not more in
love with Nick Bottom the Weaver than Mildred with Jumping Jack. It was surely
not his personal beauty that won her, for he had none. It was
not his intellect, for intellect does not take up its abode in a forehead
of such singular construction as that of Jumping Jack. But whatever the secret charm
was, it worked on a more realistic stage than this. We see analogous
cases every day. Perhaps Oberon still exercises his fairy craft in our material world
and scatters at will upon the eyelids of mortals, the magic distillation of that
little Western flower which will make or man or woman dadly doped upon the next
live creature that it sees for an hour or so. Mildred amused herself sufficiently
by shutting Heliogabulus up in the box and letting him spring out again. Then
she grew weary of the diverse and finally began to lose patience with her elastic
companion because he was unable to crowd himself into the box and undo the latch
with his own fingers. This was extremely unreasonable, but so was Mildred made.
How tedious you are? She cried at last, you dull little old
man. I don't see how I ever came to like you. I don't
like you any more, with your glass eyes and your silly pink mouth,
always open and never saying the least thing. What do you mean, sir?
By standing and staring at me in that tiresome way, you look enough
like Dobbs the butcher to be his brother, or to be Dobbs himself.
I wonder you don't up and say steak or chops? Mum, dear me,
I wish you really had some life in you, and could move about
and talk with me and make yourself agreeable. Do be alive. Mildred gave
a little laugh at her own absurdity, and then, being an imaginative creature,
came presently to regard the ideas not altogether absurd, and finally as not
absurd at all. If a bough that has been frozen to death all winter
can put forth blossoms in the spring, why might not an inanimate object,
which already possessed many of the surface attributes of humanity, and possibly some of
the internal mechanism, add to itself the crowning gift of speech in view of
the daily phenomena of existence. Would that be so very astonishing? Of course,
the problem took a simpler shape than this. In Mildred's unsophisticated thought.
She folded her hands in her lap, and, rocking to and fro,
reflected how pleasant it would be if Jumping Jack or her doll could come to
life like the marble lady in the play and do some of the talking.
What wonderful stories Jumping Jack would have to tell, For example, he must
have had no end of remarkable adventures before he lost his mind. Probably the
very latest intelligence from Lilyput was in his possession, and perhaps he was even
now vainly trying to deliver himself of it. His fixed open mouth hinted as
much. The land of the Pigmies, in the heart of darkest Africa,
just then widely discussed in the newspapers, was of course familiar ground to him.
How interesting it would be to learn at first hand of the manners and
customs of those little folk. Doubtless, he had been a great traveler in
foreign parts. The label in German text on the bottom of his box showed
that he had recently come from Munich. Munich. What magic there was in
the very word. As Mildred rocked to and fro her active little brain,
weaving the most grotesque fancies, a drowsiness stole over her. She was crooning
to herself, fainter and fainter, and every instant drifting nearer to the ship
adowy reefs on the western coast of nowhere, when she heard a soft,
inexplicable rustling sound close at her side. Mildred lifted her head quickly, just
in time to behold heliogabulus describe a graceful curve in the air and land lightly
in the midst of her best dressed in China tea. Set Ho ho,
he cried, in a voice preternaturally gruff for an individual not above five inches
in height. Ho ho, And he immediately began to throw Mildred's cups and
saucers and plates all about the apartment. Oh you horrid, wicked little man,
cried Mildred, starting to her feet, Stop it, Oh you cross
little girl, returned the dwarf with his family, leer you surprise me,
and another plate crashed against the blue flowered wallpaper. Stop it, she repeated,
and then to herself, It's a mercy I waked up just when I
did. Patience, my child, I'm coming there shortly to smooth your hair
and kiss you. Do, screamed Mildred, stooping to pick up a large
Japanese crystal, which lay absorbing the wintry sunlight at her feet. When Heliogabulus
saw that, he retired to the farther side of his tenement, peeping cautiously
over the top and around the corner, and disappearing altogether whenever Mildred threatened to
throw the crystal at him. Now, Miss Wentworth was naturally a courageous girl,
and when she perceived that the pigmy was afraid of her, she resolved
to make an example of him. He was such a small affair that it
really did not seem worth while to treat him with much ceremony. He had
startled her at first his manners had been so very violent, But now that
her pulse had gone down, she regarded him with calm curiosity and wondered what
he would do next. Listen, he said, presently, in a queer
deferential way. As he partly emerged from his hiding place. I came to
request the hand of Mademoiselle Yonder, and, nodding his head in the direction
of Londella the doll, he retreated bashfully. Her cried, Mildred aghast,
you are very nice, but I can't marry out of my own set,
you know, observed Heliogabulous, invisible behind his breastwork. This shyness was mere
dissimulation, as his subsequent behavior proved. Who would have thought it? Murmured
Mildred to herself, And as she glanced suspiciously at Blondella, sitting bolt upright
between the windows with her back against the mop board, Mildred fancied that she
could almost detect a faint roseate hue stealing into the waxen cheek. Who would
have thought it? And then, addressing jumping Jack, she cried, come
here directly, you audacious person, and she stamped her foot in a manner
that would have discouraged most suitors. But Heliogabulus, who had now seated himself
on the lid of his box and showed no trace of his late diffidence,
smiled superciliously as he twisted off a bit of wire that protruded from the heel
of one of his boots. This effrontery increased Miss Wentworth's indignation, and likewise
rather embarrassed her. Perhaps he was not afraid of her after all, in
which case he was worth nothing as an example. I will brush you off
and tread on you, she observed, tentatively, as if she were addressing
an insect. Oh. Indeed, he rejoined, derisively, crossing his legs.
I will, cried Mildred, making an impulsive dash at him. Though
taken at a disadvantage, the Mannikin eluded her with surprising ease. His agility
was such as to render it impossible to determine whether he was an old young
man or a very young old man. Mildred eyed him doubtfully for a moment,
and then gave chase. Away went the quaint little figure, now darting
under the brass bedstead, now dodging around the legs of the table, and
now slipping between the feet of his pursuer. At the instant she was on
the point of laying hand on him, Owing doubtless to some peculiarity of his
articulation, each movement of his limbs, was accompanied by a rustling, wiry
sound, like the faint reverberation of a banjo string somewhere in the distance.
Heliogabulus may have been a person with no great conversational gift, but his gymnastic
acquirements were of the first order. Mildred not only could not catch him,
but she could not restrain the mannekin from meanwhile doing all kinds of desultory mischief,
For in the midst of his course, he would pause to overturn her
tin kitchen, or shy a plate across the room, or give a vicious
twitch to the lovely golden hair of Blondella. In spite of, perhaps in
consequence of his recent tender advances, it was plain that in eluding Mildred he
was prompted by caprice rather than by fear. If things go on in this
way, she reflected, I shan't have anything left. If I could only
get the dreadful little creature into a corner. There goes my tureen. What
shall I do to quit the room even for a moment, in order to
call for assistance at the head of the staircase, where, moreover, her
voice was not likely to reach any one was to leave everything at the mercy
of that small demon. Mildred was out of breath with running and ready to
burst into tears with exasperation. When a different mode of procedure suggested itself to
her, she would make believe that she was no longer angry, and possibly
she could accomplish by cunning what she had failed to compass by violence. She
would consent, at least seemed to consent, to let him marry Blondella,
though he had lately given no signs of very fervid attachment. Beyond this,
Mildred had no definite scheme. When the story of the Fisherman and the Evil
Afright flashed upon her memory from the pages of the Arabian Nights, her dilemma
was exactly that of the unlucky fisherman, and her line of action should be
the same, with such modification as the exigencies might demand. As in his
case too, there was no time to be lost. An expression of ineffable
benevolence and serenity instantly overspread the features of miss Wentworth. She leaned against the
wardrobe and regarded jumping Jack with a look of gentle reproach. I thought you
were going to be interesting, she remarked softly. Ain't I interesting, asked
the goblin, with a touch of pardonable sensitiveness. No, said Mildred,
candidly, you are not. Perhaps you try to be. That's some,
to be sure, though it's not everything. Oh, I don't want to
touch you, She went on, with an indifferent toss of her curls.
How old are you? Ever so old and ever so young? Truly?
How very odd to be both at once? Can you read? Never tried?
I'm afraid your parents didn't bring you up very well, reflected Mildred.
I speak all languages. The little folk of every age and every country understand
me. You're a great traveler, then I should say so. You don't
seem to carry much baggage about with you. I suppose you belong somewhere,
and you keep your clothes there. I really should like to know where you
came from, if it's all the same to you. Out of that box,
my dove, replied, jumping Jack, having become affable in his turn,
never, exclaimed Mildred with a delightful air of incredulity. I hope I
may die, declared Heliogabulus, laying one hand on the left breast of his
main spring. Ah. I don't believe it, said Mildred confidently. Ho,
ho, you are too tall and too wide and too fluffy. Ah.
I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but you are fluffy, and
I just want you to stop that hoe hoeing. No, I don't believe
it, you don't, don't you behold and placing both hands on the floor,
Heliogabulus described a circle in the air, and neatly landed himself in the
box. He was no sooner in than Mildred clapped down the lid and seated
herself upon it victoriously. In the suddenness of her movement, she had necessarily
neglected to fasten the catch, but that was a detail that could be attended
to later. Meanwhile, she was mistress of the situation and could dictate terms.
One thing was resolved. Jumping Jack was never to jump again tomorrow.
He should be thrown into the charles at the foot of Mount Vernon Street,
in order that the tide might carry him out to see. What would she
not have given if she could have sealed him up with that talismanic seal of
Solomon, which held the cruel Mariage so securely in his brazen casket. Of
course, it was not in Mildred's blood to resist the temptation to tease her
captive a little. Now, mister Jack, I guess I've got you where
you belong. If you are not an old man this very minute, you
will be when you get out. He wanted to carry off my blondella.
Did you the idea? I hope you're quite comfortable let me out, growled
Heliogabulus in his deepest bass. I couldn't think of it, Dear, you
are one of those little boys that shouldn't be either seen or heard. And
I don't want you to speak again, for I'm sitting on your head and
your voice goes right through me. So you will please remember not to speak
unless you are spoken to. And Mildred broke into the merriest laugh, imaginable,
recollecting how many times she herself had been extinguished by the same instructions.
But Mildred's triumph was premature, for the little man in the box was as
strong as a giant in a dime museum, and now that he had fully
recovered his breath, he began pushing in a most systematic manner with his head
and shoulders, and Mildred, to her great consternation, found herself being slowly
lifted up on the lid of the box do what she might. In a
minute or two more, she must inevitably fall off and jumping Jack would have
her. And what mercy could she expect at his hands after her treatment of
him? She was lost. Mildred stretched out her arms in despair, gave
a shriek, and opened her eyes, which had been all the while as
tightly shut as a couple of morning glories. At sundown, she was sitting
on a rug in the middle of the room. Though the window panes were
still flushed with the memory of the winter sunset, the iridescent lights had faded
out in the Japanese crystal at her feet. She was not anywhere near the
little imp. There he was over by the fireplace, staring at nothing in
his usual senseless fashion. Not a piece of crockery had been broken, not
a chair upset, and Blondella, the too fascinating Blondella, had not had
a single trest disarranged. Mildred drew a long breath of relief. What had
happened? Had she been dreaming, she was unable to answer the question,
but as she abstractedly shook out the creases in the folds of her skirt,
she remarked to herself that she did not care on the whole to have any
of her things come to life, certainly not jumping jack. Just then,
the splintering of an icicle on the window ledge outside sent a faint whiteness into
her cheek and caused her to throw a quick, apprehensive glance toward the fireplace.
After an instant's hesitation, Mildred, unconsciously, dragging Blondella by the hair,
stole softly from the room, where the specters of the twilight were beginning
to gather rather menacingly, and went downstairs to join the family and relate her
strange adventure. The analysis of miss Wentworth's dream if it were a dream,
for later on she declared it was not, and hurriedly gave Heliogabulus to an
unpleasant small boy who lived next door. The analysis of her dream, i
repeat shows strong traces of a moral Indeed, the residuum is purely of that
stringent quality. Heliogabulus must be accepted as the symbol of an ill considered desire,
realized the earnestness with which miss Wentworth invoked, the phantasm and the misery
that came of it. Our common experience painfully to attain possession of what we
do not want, and then painfully to waste our days in attempting to rid
ourselves of it, seems to be a part of our discipline here below.
I know a great many excellent persons who are spending the latter moiety of life
in the endeavor to get their particular jumping jack snuggly back into its box again.
End of a Christmas fantasy.