Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: To to a magician.
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: Won her, for he had none.
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: An hour or so.
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: What do you mean, sir?
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: Of those little folk.
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: Come from Munich. Munich.
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: Oh you horrid, wicked little.
Speaker 1: Man, cried Mildred, starting to her feet, Stop it, Oh
you cross little girl, returned the dwarf with his family.
Speaker 2: Leer you surprise me, and another.
Speaker 1: Plate crashed against the blue flowered wallpaper. Stop it, she repeated,
and then to herself, It's a mercy I waked up just.
Speaker 2: When I did.
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: Who would have thought it?
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: Who would have thought it?
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: Oh.
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: At the instant she was.
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: 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.
Speaker 1: You up very well, reflected Mildred. I speak all languages.
The little folk of every age and every country understand me.
Speaker 2: You're a great traveler, then.
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: Ah.
Speaker 1: I don't believe it, said Mildred confidently. Ho, ho, you
are too tall and too wide and too fluffy.
Speaker 2: Ah.
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: Did you the idea?
Speaker 1: 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?
Speaker 2: She was lost.
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: She was not anywhere near.
Speaker 1: 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.