“Oh wonderful Son that can so astonish a Mother!”
Hamlet.
“What a horrid nuisance you are, No. 8, brushing everything down as you go by! Why can’t you keep out of the way?”
“Oh, you mustn’t come here, No. 8. Aunt Judy, look! he’s sitting on my doll’s best cloak. Do tell him to go away.”
“I can’t have you bothering me, No. 8; don’t you see how busy I am, packing? Get away somewhere else.”
“You should squeeze yourself into less than nothing, and be nowhere, No. 8.”
The suggestion, (uttered with a jocose grin,) came from a small boy who had ensconced himself in the corner of a window, where he was sitting on his heels, painting the Union Jack of a ship in the Illustrated London News. He had certainly acted on the advice he gave, as nearly as was possible. Surely no little boy of his age ever got into so small a compass before, or in a position more effectually out of everybody’s possible way. The window corner led nowhere, and there was nothing in it for anybody to want.
“No. 8, I never saw anything so tiresome as you are. Why will you poke your nose in where you’re not wanted? You’re always in the way.”
“‘He poked his flat nose into every place;’”
sung, sotto voce, by the small boy in the window corner.
No. 8 did not stop to dispute about it, though, in point of fact, his nose was not flat, so at least in that respect he did not resemble the duck in the song.
He had not, however, been successful in gaining the attention of his friends down-stairs, so he dawdled off to make an experiment in another quarter.
“Why, you’re not coming into the nursery now, Master No. 8, surely! I can’t do with you fidgetting about among all the clothes and packing. There isn’t a minute to spare. You might keep out of the way till I’ve finished.”
“Now, Master No. 8, you must be off. There’s no time or room for you in the kitchen this morning. There’s ever so many things to get ready yet. Run away as fast as you can.”
“What are you doing in the passages, No. 8? Don’t you see that you are in everybody’s way? You had really better go to bed again.”
But the speaker hurried forward, and No. 8 betook himself to the staircase, and sat down exactly in the middle of the middle flight. And there be amused himself by peeping through the banisters into the hall, where people were passing backwards and forwards in a great fuss; or listening to the talking and noise that were going on in the rooms above.
But be was not “out of the way” there, as he soon learnt. Heavy steps were presently heard along the landing, and heavy steps began to descend the stairs. Two men were carrying down a heavy trunk.
“You’ll have to move, young gentleman, if you please,” observed one; “you’re right in the way just there!”
No. 8 descended with all possible speed, and arrived on the mat at the bottom.
“There now, I told you, you were always in the way,” was the greeting he received. “How stupid it is! Try under the table, for pity’s sake.”
Under the table! it was not a bad idea; moreover, it was a new one—quite a fresh plan. No. 8 grinned and obeyed. The hall table was no bad asylum, after all, for a little boy who was always in the way everywhere else; besides, he could see everything that was going on. No. 8 crept under, and squatted himself on the cocoa-nut matting. He looked up, and looked round, and felt rather as if he was in a tent, only with a very substantial covering over his head.
Presently the dog passed by, and was soon coaxed to lie down in the table retreat by the little boy’s side, and the two amused themselves very nicely together. The fact was, the family were going from home, and the least the little ones could do during the troublesome preparation, was not to be troublesome themselves; but this is sometimes rather a difficult thing for little ones to accomplish. Nevertheless, No. 8 had accomplished it at last.
“Capital, No. 8! you and the dog are quite a picture. If I had time, I would make a sketch of you.”
That was the remark of the first person who went by afterwards, and No. 8 grinned as he heard it.
“Well done, No. 8! that’s the best contrivance I ever saw!”
Remark the second, followed by a second grin.
“Why, you don’t mean to say that you’re under the table, Master No. 8? Well you are a good boy! I’m sure I’ll tell your mamma.”
Another grin.
“You dear old fellow, to put yourself so nicely out of the way! You’re worth I don’t know what.”
Grin again.
“Master No. 8 under the table, to be sure! Well, and a very nice place it is, and quite suitable. Ever so much better than the hot kitchen, when there’s baking and all sorts of things going on. Here, lovey! here’s a little cake that was spared, that I was taking to the parlour; but, as you’re there, you shall have it.”
No. 8 grinned with all his heart this time.
“I wish I’d thought of that! Why, I could have painted my ship there without being squeezed!”
It needs scarcely to be told that this was the observation of the small boy who had watched an opportunity for emerging from the window corner without fuss, and was now carrying his little paint-box up-stairs to be packed away in the children’s bag. As he spoke, he stooped down to look at No. 8 and the dog, and smiled his approbation, and No. 8 smiled in return.
“No. 8, how snug you do look!”
Once more an answering grin.
“No. 8, you’re the best boy in the world; and if you stay there till Nurse is ready for you, you shall have a penny all to yourself.”
No. 8’s grin was accompanied by a significant nod this time, to show that he accepted the bargain.
“My darling No. 8, you may come out now. There! give me a kiss, and get dressed as fast as you can. The fly will be here directly. You’re a very good boy indeed.”
“No. 8, you’re the pattern boy of the family, and I shall come with you in the fly, and tell you a story as we go along for a reward.”
No. 8 liked both the praise, and the cake, and the penny, and the kiss, and the promise of the rewarding story for going under the table; but the why and wherefore of all these charming facts, was a complete mystery to him. What did that matter, however? He ran up-stairs, and got dressed, and was ready before anyone else; and, by a miracle of good fortune, was on the steps, and not in the middle of the carriage-drive, when the fly arrived, which was to take one batch of the large family party to the railway station.
No one was as fond of the fly conveyance as of the open carriage; for, in the first place, it was usually very full and stuffy; and, in the second, very little of the country could be seen from the windows.
But, on the present occasion, Aunt Judy having offered her services to accompany the fly detachment, there was a wonderful alteration of sentiment, as to who should be included. Aunt Judy, however, had her own ideas. The three little ones belonged to the fly, as it were by ancient usage and custom, and more than five it would not hold.
Five it would hold, however, and five accordingly got in, No. 4 having pleaded her own cause to be “thrown in:” and at last, with nurses and luggage and No. 5 outside, away they drove, leaving the open carriage and the rest to follow.
Nothing is perfect in this world. Those who had the airy drive missed the story, and regretted it; but it was fair that the pleasure should be divided.
And, after all, although the fly might be a little stuffy and closely packed, and although it cost some trouble to settle down without getting crushed, and make footstools of carpet bags, and let down all the windows,—the commotion was soon over; and it was a wonderful lull of peace and quietness, after the confusion and worry of packing and running about, to sit even in a rattling fly. And so for five minutes and more, all the travellers felt it to be, and a soothing silence ensued; some leaning back, others looking silently out at the retreating landscape, or studying with earnestness the wonderful red plush lining of the vehicle itself.
But presently, after the rest had lasted sufficiently long to recruit all the spirits, No. 7 remarked, not speaking to anybody in particular, “I thought Aunt Judy was going to tell us a story.”
No. 7 was a great smiler in a quiet way, and he smiled now, as he addressed his remark to the general contents of the fly.
Aunt Judy laughed, and inquired for whom the observation was meant, adding her readiness to begin, if they would agree to sit quiet and comfortable, without shuffling up and down, or disputing about space and heat; and, these points being agreed to, she began her story as follows:—
“There were once upon a time a man and his wife who had an only son. They were Germans, I believe, for all the funny things that happen, happen in Germany, as you know by Grimm’s fairy tales.
“Well! this man, Franz, had been a watchmaker and mender in an old-fashioned country town, and he had made such a comfortable fortune by the business, that he was able to retire before he grew very old; and so he bought a very pretty little villa in the outskirts of the town, had a garden full of flowers with a fountain in the middle, and enjoyed himself very much.
“His wife enjoyed herself too, but never so much as when the neighbours, as they passed by, peeped over the palings, and said, ‘What a pretty place! What lucky people the watchmaker and his wife are! How they must enjoy themselves!’
“On such occasions, Madame Franz would run to her husband, crying out, ‘Come here, my dear, as fast as you can! Come, and listen to the neighbours, saying, how we must enjoy ourselves!’
“Franz was very apt to grunt when his wife summoned him in this manner, and, at any rate, never would go as she requested; but little Franz, the son, who was very like his mother, and had got exactly her turn-up nose and sharp eyes, would scamper forward in a moment to hear what the neighbours had to say, and at the end would exclaim:—
“‘Isn’t it grand, mother, that everybody should think that?’
“To which his mother would reply:—
“‘It is, Franz, dear! I’m so glad you feel for your mother!’ and then the two would embrace each other very affectionately several times, and Madame Franz would go to her household business, rejoicing to think that, if her husband did not quite sympathize with her, her son did.
“Young Franz had been somewhat spoilt in his childhood, as only children generally are. As to his mother, from there being no brothers and sisters to compare him with, she thought such a boy had never been seen before; and she told old Franz so, so often, that at last he began to believe it too. And then they got all sorts of masters for him, to teach him everything they could think of, and qualify him, as his mother said, for some rich young lady to fall in love with. That was her idea of the way in which he was one day to make his fortune.
“At last, a time came when his mother thought the young gentleman quite finished and complete; fit for anything and anybody, and likely to create a sensation in the world. So she begged old Franz to dismiss all his masters, and give him a handsome allowance, that he might go off on his travels and make his fortune, in the manner before mentioned.
“Old Mr. Franz shook his head at first, and called it all a parcel of nonsense. Moreover, he declared that Master Franz was a mere child yet, and would get into a hundred foolish scrapes in less than a week; but mamma expressed her opinion so positively, and repeated it so often, that at last papa began to entertain it too, and gave his consent to the plan.
“The fact was, though I am sorry to say it, Mr. Franz was henpecked. That is, his wife was always trying to make him obey her, instead of obeying him, as she ought to have done; and she had managed him so long, that she knew she could persuade him, or talk him (which is much the same thing) into anything, provided she went on long enough.
“So she went on about Franz going off on his travels with a handsome allowance, till Papa Franz consented, and settled an income upon him, which, if they had been selfish parents, they would have said they could not afford; but, as it was, they talked the matter over together, and told each other that it was very little two old souls like themselves would want when their gay son was away; and so they would draw in, and live quite quietly, as they used to do in their early days before they grew rich, and would let the lad have the money to spend upon his amusements.
“Young Franz either didn’t know, or didn’t choose to think about this. Clever as he was about many things, he was not clever enough to take in the full value of the sacrifices his parents were making for him; so he thanked them lightly for the promised allowance, rattled the first payment cheerfully into his purse, and smiled on papa and mamma with almost condescending complacency. When he was equipped in his best suit, and just ready for starting, his mother took him aside.
“‘Franz, my dear,’ she said, ‘you know how much money and pains have been spent on your education. You can play, and dance, and sing, and talk, and make yourself heard wherever you go. Now mind you do make yourself heard, or who is to find out your merits? Don’t be shy and downcast when you come among strangers. All you have to think about, with your advantages, is to make yourself agreeable. That’s the rule for you! Make yourself agreeable wherever you go, and the wife and the fortune will soon be at your feet. And, Franz,’ continued she, laying hold of the button of his coat, ‘there is something else. You know, I have often said that the one only thing I could wish different about you is, that your nose should not turn up quite so much. But you see, my darling boy, we can’t alter our noses. Nevertheless, look here! you can incline your head in such a manner as almost to hide the little defect. See—this way—there—let me put it as I mean—a little down and on one side. It was the way I used to carry my head before I married, or I doubt very much whether your father would have looked my way. Think of this when you’re in company. It’s a graceful attitude too, and you will find it much admired.’
“Franz embraced his mother, and promised obedience to all her commands; but he was glad when her lecture ended, for he was not very fond of her remarks upon his nose. Just then the door of his father’s room opened, and he called out:—
“‘Franz, my dear, I want to speak to you.’
“Franz entered the room, and ‘Now, my dear boy,’ said papa, ‘before you go, let me give you one word of parting advice; but stop, we will shut the door first, if you please. That’s right. Well, now, look here. I know that no pains or expense have been spared over your education. You can play, and dance, and sing, and talk, and make yourself heard wherever you go.’
“‘My dear sir,’ interrupted Franz, ‘I don’t think you need trouble yourself to go on. My mother has just been giving me the advice beforehand.’
“‘No, has she though?’ cried old Franz, looking up in his son’s face; but then he shook his head, and said:—
“‘No, she hasn’t, Franz; no, she hasn’t; so listen to me. We’ve all made a fuss about you, and praised whatever you’ve done, and you’ve been a sort of idol and wonder among us. But, now you’re going among strangers, you will find yourself Mr. Nobody, and the great thing is, you must be contented to be Mr. Nobody at first. Keep yourself in the background, till people have found out your merits for themselves; and never get into anybody’s way. Keep out of the way, in fact, that’s the safest rule. It’s the secret of life for a young man—How impatient you look! but mark my words:—all you have to attend to, with your advantages, is, to keep out of the way.’
“After this bit of advice, the father bestowed his blessing on his dear Franz, and unlocked the door, close to which they found Mrs. Franz, waiting rather impatiently till the conference was over.
“‘What a time you have been, Franz!’ she began; but there was no time to talk about it, for they all knew that the coach, or post-wagon, as they call it in Germany, was waiting.
“Mrs. Franz wrung her son’s hand.
“‘Remember what I’ve said, my dearest Franz!’ she cried.
“‘Trust me!’ was Mr. Franz’s significant reply.
“‘You’ll not forget my rule?’ whispered papa.
“‘Forget, sir? no, that’s not possible,’ answered Mr. Franz in a great hurry, as he ran off to catch the post-wagon; for they could see it in the distance beginning to move, though part of the young gentleman’s luggage was on board.
“Well! he was just in time; but what do you think was the next thing he did, after keeping the people waiting? A sudden thought struck him, that it would be as well for the driver and passengers to know how well educated he had been, so he began to give the driver a few words of geographical information about the roads they were going.
“‘Jump in directly, sir, if you please,’ was the driver’s gruff reply.
“‘Certainly not, till I’ve made you understand what I mean,’ says Master Franz, quite facetiously. But, then, smack went the whip, and the horses gave a jolt forwards, and over the tip of the learned young gentleman’s foot went the front wheel.
“It was a nasty squeeze, though it might have been worse, but Franz called out very angrily, something or other about ‘disgraceful carelessness,’ on which the driver smacked his whip again, and shouted:—
“‘Gentlemen that won’t keep out of the way, must expect to have their toes trodden on.’ Everybody laughed at this, but Franz was obliged to spring inside, without taking any notice of the joke, as the coach was now really going on; and if he had began to talk, he would have been left behind.
“And now,” continued Aunt Judy, stopping herself, “while Franz is jolting along to the capital town of the country, you shall tell me whose advice you think he followed when he got to the end of the journey, and began life for himself—his father’s or his mother’s?”
There was a universal cry, mixed with laughter, of “His mother’s!”
“Quite right,” responded Aunt Judy. “His mother’s, of course. It was far the most agreeable, no doubt. Keeping out of the way is a rather difficult thing for young folks to manage.”
A glance at No. 8 caused that young gentleman’s face to grin all over, and Aunt Judy proceeded:—
“After his arrival at the great hotel of the town, he found there was to be a public dinner there that evening, which anybody might go to, who chose to pay for it; and this he thought would be a capital opportunity for him to begin life: so, accordingly, he went up-stairs to dress himself out in his very best clothes for the occasion.
“And then it was that, as he sat in front of the glass, looking at his own face, while he was brushing his hair and whiskers, and brightening them up with bear’s-grease, he began to think of his father and mother, and what they had said, and what he had best do.
“‘An excellent, well-meaning couple, of course, but as old-fashioned as the clocks they used to mend,’ was his first thought. ‘As to papa, indeed, the poor old gentleman thinks the world has stood still since he was a young man, thirty years ago. His stiff notions were all very well then, perhaps, but in these advanced times they are perfectly quizzical. Keep out of the way, indeed! Why, any ignoramus can do that, I should think! Well, well, he means well, all the same, so one must not be severe. As to mamma now—poor thing—though she is behindhand herself in many ways, yet she does know a good thing when she sees it, and that’s a great point. She can appreciate the probable results of my very superior education and appearance. To be sure, she’s a little silly over that nose affair;—but women will always be silly about something.’
“Nevertheless, at this point in his meditations, Master Franz might have been seen inclining his head down on one side, just as his mother had recommended, and then giving a look at the mirror, to see whether the vile turn-up did really disappear in that attitude. I suspect, however, that he did not feel quite satisfied about it, for he got rather cross, and finished his dressing in a great hurry, but not before he had settled that there could be only one opinion as to whose advice he should be guided by—dear mamma’s.
“‘Should it fail,’ concluded he to himself, as he gave the last smile at the looking-glass, ‘there will be poor papa’s old-world notion to fall back upon, after all.’
“Now, you must know that Master Franz had never been at one of these public dinners before, so there is no denying that when he entered the large dining-hall, where there was a long table, set out with plates, and which was filling fast with people, not one of whom he knew, he felt a little confused. But he repeated his mother’s words softly to himself, and took courage: ‘Don’t be shy and downcast when you come among strangers. All you have to think about, with your advantages, is to make yourself agreeable;’ and, on the strength of this, he passed by the lower end of the table, where there were several unoccupied places, and walked boldly forward to the upper end, where groups of people were already seated, and were talking and laughing together.
“In the midst of one of these groups, there was one unoccupied seat, and in the one next to it sat a beautiful, well-dressed young lady. ‘Why, this is the very thing,’ thought Mr. Franz to himself. ‘Who knows but what this is the young lady who is to make my fortune?’
“There was a card, it is true, in the plate in front of the vacant seat, but ‘as to that,’ thought Franz, ‘first come, first served, I suppose; I shall sit down!’
“And sit down the young gentleman accordingly did in the chair by the beautiful young lady, and even bowed and smiled to her as he did so.
“But the next instant he was tapped on the shoulder by a waiter.
“‘The place is engaged, sir!’ and the man pointed to the card in the plate.
“‘Oh, if that’s all,’ was Mr. Franz’s witty rejoinder, ‘here’s another to match!’ and thereupon he drew one of his own cards from his pocket, threw it into the plate, and handed the first one to the astonished waiter, with the remark:—
“‘The place is engaged, my good friend, you see!’
“The young goose actually thought this impudence clever, and glanced across the table for applause as he spoke. But although Mamma Watchmaker, if she had heard it, might have thought it a piece of astonishing wit, the strangers at the public table were quite of a different opinion, and there was a general cry of ‘Turn him out!’
“‘Turn me out!’ shouted Mr. Franz, jumping up from his chair, as if he intended to fight them all round; and there is no knowing what more nonsense he might not have talked, but that a very sonorous voice behind him called out,—a hand laying hold of him by the shoulders at the same time—
“‘Young man, I’ll trouble you to get out of my chair, and’ (a little louder) ‘out of my way, and’ (a little louder still) ‘to keep out of my way!’
“Franz felt himself like a child in the grasp of the man who spoke; and one glimpse he caught of a pair of coal-black eyes, two frowning eye-brows, and a moustachioed mouth, nearly frightened him out of his wits, and he was half way down the room before he knew what was happening; for, after the baron let him go, the waiter seized him and hustled him along, till he came to the bottom of the table; where, however, there was now no room for him, as all the vacant places had been filled up; so he was pushed finally to a side-table in a corner, at which sat two men in foreign dresses, not one word of whose language he could understand.
“These two fellows talked incessantly together too, which was all the more mortifying, because they gesticulated and laughed as if at some capital joke. Franz was very quiet at first, for the other adventure had sobered him, but presently, with his mother’s advice running in his head, he resolved to make himself agreeable, if possible.
“So, at the next burst of merriment, he affected to have entered into the joke, threw himself back in his chair and laughed as loudly as they did. The men stared for a second, then frowned, and then one of them shouted something to him very loudly, which he did not understand; so he placed his hand on his heart, put on an expressive smile, and offered to shake hands. Thought he, that will be irresistible! But he was mistaken. The other man now called loudly to the waiter, and a moment after, Franz found himself being conveyed by the said waiter through the doorway into the hall, with the remark resounding in his ears:—
“‘What a foolish young gentleman you must be! Why can’t you keep out of people’s way?’
“‘My good friend,’ cried Mr. Franz, ‘that’s not my plan at present. I’m trying to make myself agreeable.’
“‘Oh—pooh!—bother agreeable,’ cried the waiter. ‘What’s the use of making yourself agreeable, if you’re always in the way? Here!—step back, sir! don’t you see the tray coming?’
“Franz had not noticed it, and would probably have got a thump on the head from it, if his friend the waiter had not pulled him back. The man was a real good-natured, smiling German, and said:—
“‘Come, young gentleman, here’s a candle;—you’ve a bed-room here, of course. Now, you take my advice, and go to bed. You will be out of the way there, and perhaps you’ll get up wiser to-morrow.’
“Franz took the candlestick mechanically, but, said he:—
“‘I understood there was to be dancing here tonight, and I can dance, and—’
“‘Oh, pooh! bother dancing,’ interrupted the waiter. ‘What’s the use of dancing, if you’re to be in everybody’s way, and I know you will; you can’t help it. Here, be advised for once, and go to bed. I’ll bring you up some coffee before long. Go quietly up now—mind. Good night.’
“Two minutes afterwards, Mr. Franz found himself walking up-stairs, as the waiter had ordered him to do, though he muttered something about ‘officious fellow’ as he went along.
“And positively he went to bed, as the officious fellow recommended; and while he lay there waiting for the coffee, he began wondering what could be the cause of the failure of his attempts to make himself agreeable. Surely his mother was right—surely there could be no doubt that, with his advantages—but he did not go on with the sentence.
“Well, after puzzling for some time, a bright thought struck him. It was entirely owing to that stupid nose affair, which his mother was so silly about. Of course that was it! He had done everything else she recommended, but he could not keep his head down at the same time, so people saw the snub! Well, he would practise the attitude now, at any rate, till the coffee came!
“No sooner said than done. Out of bed jumped Mr. Franz, and went groping about for the table to find matches to light the candle. But, unluckily, he had forgotten how the furniture stood, so he got to the door by a mistake, and went stumbling up against it, just as the waiter with the coffee opened it on the other side.
“There was a plunge, a shout, a shuffling of feet, and then both were on the floor, as was also the hot coffee, which scalded Franz’s bare legs terribly.
“The waiter got up first, and luckily it was the ‘officious fellow’ with the smiling face. And said he:—
“‘What a miserable young man you must be, to be sure! Why, you’re never out of the way, not even when you’re gone to bed!’”
This last anecdote caused an uproar of delight in the fly, and so much noise, that Aunt Judy had to call the party to order, and talk about the horses being frightened, after which she proceeded:—
“I am sorry to say Mr. Franz did not get up next morning as much wiser as the waiter had expected, for he laid all the blame of his misfortunes on his nose instead of his impertinence, and never thought of correcting himself, and being less intrusive.
“On the contrary, after practising holding his head down for ten minutes before the glass, he went out to the day’s amusements, as saucy and confident as ever.
“Now there is no time,” continued Aunt Judy, “for my telling you all Mr. Franz’s funny scrapes and adventures. When we get to the end of the journey, you must invent some for yourselves, and sit together, and tell them in turns, while we are busy unpacking. I will only just say, that wherever he went, the same sort of things happened to him, because he was always thrusting himself forward, and always getting pushed back in consequence.
“Out of the public gardens he got fairly turned at last, because he would talk politics to some strange gentlemen on a bench. They got up and walked away, but, five minutes afterwards, a very odd-looking man looked over Franz’s shoulder, and said significantly, ‘I recommend you to leave these gardens, sir, and walk elsewhere.’ And poor Franz, who had heard of such things as prisons and dungeons for political offenders, felt a cold shudder run through him, and took himself off with all possible speed, not daring to look behind him, for fear he should see that dreadful man at his heels. Indeed, he never felt safe till he was in his bed-room again, and had got the waiter to come and talk to him.
“‘Dear me,’ said the waiter, ‘what a very silly young gentleman you must be, to go talking away without being asked!’
“‘But,’ said Franz, ‘you don’t consider what a superior education I have had. I can talk and make myself heard—’
“‘Oh, pooh! bother talking,’ interrupted the waiter; ‘what’s the use of talking when nobody wants to listen? Much better go to bed.’
“Franz would not give in yet, but was comforted to find the waiter did not think he would be thrown into prisons and dungeons; so he dined, and dressed, and went to the theatre to console himself, where however he made himself heard so effectually—first applauding, then hissing, and even speaking his opinions to the people round him—that a set of young college students combined together to get rid of him, and, I am sorry to add, they made use of a little kicking as the surest plan; and so, before half the play was over, Mr. Franz found himself in the street!
“Now, then, I have told you enough of Mr. Franz’s follies, except the one last adventure, which made him alter his whole plan of proceeding.
“He had had two letters of introduction to take with him: one to an old partner of his father’s, who had settled in the capital some years before; another to some people of more consequence, very distant family connections. And, of course, Mr. Franz went there first, as there seemed a nice chance of making his fortune among such great folks.
“And really the great folks would have been civil enough, but that he soon spoilt everything by what he called ‘making himself agreeable.’ He was too polite, too affectionate, too talkative, too instructive, by half! He assured the young ladies that he approved very highly of their singing; trilled out a little song of his own, unasked, at his first visit; fondled the pet lap-dog on his knee; congratulated papa on looking wonderfully well for his age; asked mamma if she had tried the last new spectacles; and, in short, gave his opinions, and advice, and information, so freely, that as soon as he was gone the whole party exclaimed:—
“‘What an impertinent jackanapes!’ a jackanapes being nothing more nor less than a human monkey.
“This went on for some time, for he called very often, being too stupid, in spite of his supposed cleverness, to take the hints that were thrown out, that such repeated visits were not wanted.
“At last, however, the family got desperate and one morning when he arrived, (having teazed them the day before for a couple of hours,) he saw nobody in the drawing-room when he was ushered in.
“Never mind, thought he, they’ll be here directly when they know I’m come! And having brought a new song in his pocket, which he had been practising to sing to them, he sat down to the piano, and began performing alone, thinking how charmed they would be to hear such beautiful sounds in the distance!
“But, in the middle of his song, he heard a discordant shout, and jumping up, discovered the youngest little Missy hid behind the curtain, and crying tremendously.
“Mr. Franz became quite theatrical. ‘Lovely little pet, where are your sisters? Have they left my darling to weep alone?’
“‘They shut the door before I could get through,’ sobbed the lovely little pet; ‘and I won’t be your darling a bit!’
“Mr. Franz laughed heartily, and said how clever she was, took her on his knee, told her her sisters would be back again directly, and finished his remark by a kiss.
“Unfortunate Mr. Franz! The young lady immediately gave him an unmistakable box on the ear with her small fist, and vociferated
“No, they won’t, they won’t, they won’t! They’ll never come back till you’re gone! They’ve gone away to get out of your way, because you won’t keep out of theirs. And you’re a forward puppy, papa says, and can’t take a hint; and you’re always in everybody’s way, and I’ll get out of your way, too!’
“Here the little girl began to kick violently; but there was no occasion. Mr. Franz set her down, and while she ran off to her sisters, he rushed back to the hotel, and double-locked himself into his room.
“After a time, however, he sent for his friend the waiter, for he felt that a talk would do him good.
“But the ‘officious fellow’ shook his head terribly.
“‘How many more times am I to tell you what a foolish young gentleman you are?’ cried he. ‘Will you never get up wiser any morning of the year?’
“‘I thought,’ murmured Franz, in broken, almost sobbing accents—‘I thought—the young ladies—would have been delighted—with—my song;—you see—I’ve been—so well taught—and I can sing—’
“‘Oh! pooh, pooh, pooh!’ interrupted the waiter once more. ‘Bother singing and everything else, if you’ve not been asked! Much better go to bed!’
“Poor Franz! It was hard work to give in, and he made a last effort.
“‘Don’t you think—after all—that the prejudice—is owing to—what I told you about:—people do so dislike a snub-nose?’
“‘Oh, pooh! bother a snub-nose,’ exclaimed the waiter; ‘what will your nose signify, if you don’t poke it in everybody’s way?’
“And with this conclusion Mr. Franz was obliged to be content; and he ordered his dinner up-stairs, and prepared himself for an evening of tears and repentance.
“But, before the waiter had been gone five minutes, he returned with a letter in his hand.
“‘Now, here’s somebody asking something at last,’ said he, for a servant had brought it.
“Franz trembled as he took it. It was sure to be either a scolding or a summons to prison, he thought. But no such thing: it was an invitation to dinner. Franz threw it on the floor, and kicked it from him—he would go nowhere—see nobody any more!
“The ‘officious fellow’ picked it up, and read it. ‘Mr. Franz,’ said he, ‘you mustn’t go to bed this time: you must go to this dinner instead. It’s from your father’s old partner—he wishes you had called, but as you haven’t called, he asks you to dine. Now you’re wanted, Mr. Franz, and must go.’
“‘I shall get into another mess,’ cried Franz, despondingly.
“‘Oh, pooh! you’ve only to keep out of everybody’s way, and all will be right,’ insisted the waiter, as he left the room.
“‘Only to keep out of everybody’s way, and all will be right,’ ejaculated Mr. Franz, as he looked at his crest-fallen face in the glass. ‘It’s a strange rule for getting on in life! However,’ continued he, cheering up, ‘one plan has failed, and it’s only fair to give the other a chance!’
“And all the rest of dressing-time, and afterwards as he walked along the streets, he kept repeating his father’s words softly to himself, which was at first a very difficult thing to do, because he could not help mixing them up with his mother’s. It was the funniest thing in the world to hear him: ‘All you have to attend to, with your advantages is to—make yourself—no, no! not to make myself agreeable—is to—keep out of the way!—that’s it!’ (with a sigh.)
“When Franz arrived at the house, he rang the bell so gently, that he had to ring twice before he was heard; and then they concluded it was some beggar, who was afraid of giving a good pull.
“So, when he was ushered into the drawing-room, the old partner came forward to meet him, took him by both hands, and, after one look into his downcast face, said:—
“‘My dear Mr. Franz, you must put on a bolder face, and ring a louder peal, next time you come to the house of your father’s old friend!’
“Mr. Franz answered this warm greeting by a sickly smile, and while he was being introduced to the family, kept bowing on, thinking of nothing but how he was to keep out of everybody’s way!’
“He was tempted every five minutes, of course, to break out in his usual style, and could have found it in his heart to chuck the whole party under the chin, and take all the talk to himself. But he could be determined enough when he chose; and having determined to give his father’s rule a fair chance, he restrained himself to the utmost.
“So, not even the hearty reception of the old partner and his wife, nor the smiling faces of either daughters or sons, could lure him into opening out. ‘Yes’ and ‘No;’ ‘Do you think so?’ ‘I dare say;’ ‘Perhaps;’ ‘No doubt you’re right;’ and other such unmeaning little phrases were all he would utter when they talked to him.
“‘How shy he is, poor fellow!’ thought the ladies, and then they talked to him all the more. One tried to amuse him with one subject, another with another. How did he like the public gardens? Were they not very pretty?—He scarcely knew. No doubt they were, if they thought so. What did he think of the theatre?—It was very hot when he was there. Had he any friends in the town?—He couldn’t say friends—he knew one or two people a little. And the poor youth could hardly restrain a groan, as he answered each of the questions.
“Then they chatted of books, and music, and dancing, and pressed him hard to discover what he knew, and could do, and liked best; and when it oozed out even from his short answers, that he had read certain books in more than one language, and could sing—just a little; and dance—just a little; and do several other things—just a little, too, all sorts of nods and winks passed through the family, and they said:—
“‘Ah, when you know us better, and are not so shy of us as strangers, we shall find out you are as clever again as you pretend to be, dear Mr. Franz!’
“‘I’ll tell you what,’ added the old partner, coming up at this moment, ‘it’s a perfect treat to me, Mr. Franz, to have a young man like you in my house! You’re your father over again, and I can’t praise you more. He was the most modest, unobtrusive man in all our town, and yet knew more of his business than all of us put together.’
“‘No, no, I can’t allow that,’ cried the motherly wife.
“‘Nonsense!’ replied the old partner. ‘However, my dear boy—for I really must call you so—it was that very thing that made your father’s fortune; I mean that he was just as unpretending as he was clever. Everybody trusts an unpretending man. And you’ll make your fortune too in the same manner, trust me, before long. Now, boys!’ added he, turning to his sons, ‘you hear what I say, and mind you take the hint! As for the young puppies of the present day, who fancy themselves fit to sit in the chair of their elders as soon as ever they have learnt their alphabet, and are for thrusting themselves forward in every company—Mr. Franz, I’ll own it to you, because you will understand me—I have no patience with such rude, impertinent Jackanapeses, and always long to kick them down-stairs.’
“The old partner stood in front of Mr. Franz as he spoke, and clenched his fist in animation. Mr. Franz sat on thorns. He first went hot, and then he went cold—he felt himself kicked down-stairs as he listened—he was ready to cry—he was ready to fight—he was ready to run away—he was ready to drop on his knees, and confess himself the very most impertinent of all the impertinent Jackanapes’ race.
“But he gulped, and swallowed, and shut his teeth close, and nobody found him out; only he looked very pale, which the good mother soon noticed, and said she to her husband:—
“‘My dear love, don’t you see how fagged and weary it makes Mr. Franz look, to hear you raving on about a parcel of silly lads with whom he has nothing in common? You will frighten him out of his wits.’
“‘Mr. Franz will forgive me, I know,’ cried the old partner, gently. ‘Jacintha, my dear, fetch the wine and cake!’
“The kind, careful souls feared he was delicate, and insisted on his having some refreshment; and then papa ordered the young people to give their guest some music; and Franz sat by while the sons and daughters went through a beautiful opera chorus, which was so really charming, that Mr. Franz did forget himself for a minute, clapped violently, and got half-way through the word ‘encore’ in a very loud tone. But he checked himself instantly, coloured, apologized for his rudeness, and retreated further back from the piano.
“Of course, this new symptom of modesty was met by more kindness, and followed by a sly hint from the merry Jacintha, that Mr. Franz’s turn for singing had come now!
“Poor Mr. Franz! with the recollection of the morning’s adventure on his mind, and his father’s rule ringing in his ears, he felt singing to be out of the question, so he declined. On which they entreated, insisted, and would listen to no refusal. And Jacintha went to him, and looked at him with her sweetest smile, and said, ‘But you know, Mr. Franz, you said you could sing a little; and if it’s ever so little, you should sing when you’re asked!’ and with that Miss Jacintha offered him her hand, and led him to the piano.
“Franz was annoyed, though he ought to been pleased.
“‘But how am I to keep out of people’s way,’ thought he to himself, ‘if they will pull me forward? It’s the oddest thing I ever knew. I can’t do right either way.’
“Then a thought struck him:—
“‘I have no music, Miss Jacintha,’ said he, ‘and I can’t sing without music;’ and he was going back again to his chair in the corner.
“‘But we have all the new music,’ was her answer, and she opened a portfolio at once. ‘See, here’s the last new song!’ and she held one up before the unfortunate youth, who at the sight of it coloured all over, even to the tips of his ears. Whereupon Miss Jacintha, who was watching him, laughed, and said she had felt sure he knew it; and down she sat, and began to play the accompaniment, and in two minutes afterwards Mr. Franz found himself—in spite of himself, as it were—exhibiting in the song, the fatal song of the morning’s adventure.
“It was a song of tender sentiment, and the singer’s almost tremulous voice added to the effect, and a warm clapping of hands greeted its conclusion.
“But by that time Mr. Franz was so completely exhausted with the struggles of this first effort on the new plan, that he began to wish them good-night, saying he would not intrude upon them any longer.
“They would shake hands with him, though he tried to bow himself off without; and the old partner followed him down-stairs into the hall.
“‘Mr. Franz,’ said he, ‘we have been delighted to make your acquaintance, but this has been only a quiet family party. Now we know your sort, you must come again, and meet our friends. Wife will fix the day, and send you word; and don’t you be afraid, young man! Mind you come, and put your best foot forward among us all!’
“Franz was almost desperate. His conscience began to reproach him. What! was he going to accept all this kindness, like a rogue receiving money under false pretences? He was shocked, and began to protest:—
“‘I assure you, dear sir, I don’t deserve—You are quite under a mistake—I really am not—the fact is, you think a great deal better of me than—”
“‘Nonsense!’ shouted the old partner, clapping him vigorously on the back. ‘Why, you’re not going to teach me at my time of life, surely? Not going to turn as conceited as that, after all, eh? Come, come, Mr. Franz, no nonsense! And to-morrow,’ he added, ‘I’ll send you letters of introduction to some of my friends, who will show you the lions, and make much of you. You will be well received wherever you take them, first for my sake, and afterwards for your own. There, there! I won’t hear a word! No thanks—I hate them! Good night.’
“And the old partner fairly pushed Mr. Franz through the door.
“‘Oh dear, oh dear!’ was the waiter’s exclamation when Franz reached the hotel, and the light of the lamp shone on his white, worn-out face. ‘Oh dear, oh dear! I fear you’ve been a silly young gentleman over again! What have you been doing this time?’
“‘I’ve been trying to keep out of everybody’s way all the evening,’ growled Mr. Franz, ‘and they would pull me forward, in spite of myself.’
“‘No—really though?’ cried the waiter, as if it were scarcely possible.
“‘Really,’ sighed poor Mr. Franz.
“‘Then do me the honour, sir,’ exclaimed the waiter, with a sudden deference of manner; and taking the tips of Franz’s fingers in his own, he bent over them with a salute. ‘You’re a wise young gentleman now, sir, and your fortune’s made. I’m glad you’ve hit it at last!
“And Mr. Franz had hit it at last, indeed,” continued Aunt Judy, “as appeared more plainly still by the letters of introduction which reached him next morning. They were left open, and were to this effect:—
“‘ . . . The bearer of this is the son of an old friend. One of the most agreeable young men I ever saw. As modest as he is well educated, and I can’t say more. Procure him some amusement, that a little of his shyness may be rubbed off; and forward his fortunes, my dear friend, as far as you can . . . ’
“Franz handed one of these letters to his friend the waiter, and the ‘officious fellow’ grinned from ear to ear.
“‘There is only one more thing to fear,’ observed he.
“‘And what?’ asked Franz.
“‘Why, that now you’re comfortable, my dear young gentleman, your head should be turned, and you should begin to make yourself agreeable again, and spoil all.’
“‘Oh, pooh! bother agreeable; I say now, as you did,’ cried Franz, laughing. ‘No, no, my good friend, I’m not going to make myself agreeable any more. I know better than that at last!’
“‘Then your fortune’s safe as well as made!’ was the waiter’s last remark, as he was about to withdraw: but Franz followed him to the door.
“‘I found out a rather curious thing this evening, do you know!’
“‘And that was?—’ inquired his humble friend.
“‘Why, that I was sitting all the time in that very attitude my mother recommended—with my head a little down, you know—so that I really don’t think they noticed my snub.’
“The waiter got as far as, ‘Oh, pooh!’ but Franz was nervous, and interrupted him.
“‘Yes—yes! I don’t believe there’s anything in it myself; but it will be a comfort to my mother to think it was her advice that made my fortune, which she will do when I tell her that!’
“‘Ah!—the ladies will be romantic now and then!’ exclaimed the waiter, with a flourish of his hand, ‘and you must trim the comfort to a person’s taste.’
“And in due time,” pursued Aunt Judy, “that was exactly what Mr. Franz did. Strictly adhering to his father’s rule, and encouraged by its capital success that first night, he got so out of the habit of being pert, and foolish, and inconsiderate, that he ended by never having any wish to be so; so that he really became what the old partner had imagined him to be at first. It was a great restraint for some time, but his modest manners fitted him at last as easy as an old shoe, and he was welcome at every house, because he was never in the way, and always knew when to retire!
“It was a jovial day for Papa and Mamma’s Watchmaker when, two years afterwards, Mr. Franz returned home, a partner in the old partner’s prosperous business, and with the smiling Jacintha for his bride.
“And then, in telling his mother of that first evening of his good fortune, he did not forget to mention that he had hung down his head all the time, as she had advised; and, just as he expected, she jumped up in the most extravagant delight.
“‘I knew how it would be all along!’ cried she; ‘I told you so! I knew if you could only hide that terrible snub all would be well; and I’m sure our pretty Jacintha wouldn’t have looked your way if you hadn’t! See, now! you have to thank your mother for it all!’
“Franz was quite happy himself, so he smiled, and let his mother be happy her way too; but he opened his heart of hearts to poor old-fashioned papa, and told him—well, in fact, all his follies and mistakes, and their cure. And if mamma was happy in her bit of comfort, papa was not less so in his, for there is not a more delightful thing in the world than for father and son to understand each other as friends; and old Franz would sometimes walk up and down in his room, listening to the cheerful young voices up-stairs, and say to himself, that if Mother Franz—good soul as she was—did not always quite enter into his feelings, it was his comfort to be blessed with a son who did!”
* * *
What a long story it had been! Aunt Judy was actually tired out when she got to the end, and could not talk about it, but the little ones did till they arrived at the station, and had to get out.
And in the evening, when they were all sitting together before they went to bed, there was no small discussion about the story of Mr. Franz, and how people were to know what was really good manners—when to come forward, and when to hold back—and the children were a little startled at first, when their mother told them that the best rules for good manners were to be found in the Bible.
But when she reminded them of that text, “When thou art bidden, go and sit down in the lowest room,” &c. they saw in those words a very serious reason for not pushing forward into the best place in company. And when they recollected that every man was to do to others as he wished others to do to him, it became clear to them that it was the duty of all people to study their neighbours’ comfort and pleasure as well as their own; and it was no hard matter to show how this rule applied to all the little ins and outs of every-day life, whether at home, or in society. And there were plenty of other texts, ordering deference to elders, and the modesty which arises out of that humility of spirit which “vaunteth not itself,” and “is not puffed up.” There was, moreover, the comfortable promise, that “the meek” should “inherit the earth.”
Of course, it was difficult to the little ones, just at first, to see how such very serious words could apply to anybody’s manners, and especially to their own.
But it was a difficulty which mamma, with a little explanation, got over very easily; and before the little ones went to bed, they quite understood that in restraining themselves from teazing and being troublesome, they were not only not being “tiresome,” but were actually obeying several Gospel rules.
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