BEAUTY OF FORM AND BEAUTY OF MIND故事

　　 THERE was once a sculptor, named Alfred, who having won

　　 the large gold medal and obtained a travelling scholarship,

　　 went to Italy, and then came back to his native land. He was

　　 young at that time- indeed, he is young still, although he is

　　 ten years older than he was then. On his return, he went to

　　 visit one of the little towns in the island of Zealand. The

　　 whole town knew who the stranger was; and one of the richest

　　 men in the place gave a party in his honor, and all who were

　　 of any consequence, or who possessed some property, were

　　 invited. It was quite an event, and all the town knew of it,

　　 so that it was not necessary to announce it by beat of drum.

　　 Apprentice-boys, children of the poor, and even the poor

　　 people themselves, stood before the house, watching the

　　 lighted windows; and the watchman might easily fancy he was

　　 giving a party also, there were so many people in the streets.

　　 There was quite an air of festivity about it, and the house

　　 was full of it; for Mr. Alfred, the sculptor, was there. He

　　 talked and told anecdotes, and every one listened to him with

　　 pleasure, not unmingled with awe; but none felt so much

　　 respect for him as did the elderly widow of a naval officer.

　　 She seemed, so far as Mr. Alfred was concerned, to be like a

　　 piece of fresh blotting-paper that absorbed all he said and

　　 asked for more. She was very appreciative, and incredibly

　　 ignorant- a kind of female Gaspar Hauser.

　　 "I should like to see Rome," she said; "it must be a

　　 lovely city, or so many foreigners would not be constantly

　　 arriving there. Now, do give me a description of Rome. How

　　 does the city look when you enter in at the gate?"

　　 "I cannot very well describe it," said the sculptor; "but

　　 you enter on a large open space, in the centre of which stands

　　 an obelisk, which is a thousand years old."

　　 "An organist!" exclaimed the lady, who had never heard the

　　 word 'obelisk.' Several of the guests could scarcely forbear

　　 laughing, and the sculptor would have had some difficulty in

　　 keeping his countenance, but the smile on his lips faded away;

　　 for he caught sight of a pair of dark-blue eyes close by the

　　 side of the inquisitive lady. They belonged to her daughter;

　　 and surely no one who had such a daughter could be silly. The

　　 mother was like a fountain of questions; and the daughter, who

　　 listened but never spoke, might have passed for the beautiful

　　 maid of the fountain. How charming she was! She was a study

　　 for the sculptor to contemplate, but not to converse with; for

　　 she did not speak, or, at least, very seldom.

　　 "Has the pope a great family?" inquired the lady.

　　 The young man answered considerately, as if the question

　　 had been a different one, "No; he does not come from a great

　　 family."

　　 "That is not what I asked," persisted the widow; "I mean,

　　 has he a wife and children?"

　　 "The pope is not allowed to marry," replied the gentleman.

　　 "I don't like that," was the lady's remark.

　　 She certainly might have asked more sensible questions;

　　 but if she had not been allowed to say just what she liked,

　　 would her daughter have been there, leaning so gracefully on

　　 her shoulder, and looking straight before her, with a smile

　　 that was almost mournful on her face?

　　 Mr. Alfred again spoke of Italy, and of the glorious

　　 colors in Italian scenery; the purple hills, the deep blue of

　　 the Mediterranean, the azure of southern skies, whose

　　 brightness and glory could only be surpassed in the north by

　　 the deep-blue eyes of a maiden; and he said this with a

　　 peculiar intonation; but she who should have understood his

　　 meaning looked quite unconscious of it, which also was

　　 charming.

　　p; "Beautiful Italy!" sighed some of the guests.

　　 "Oh, to travel there!" exclaimed others.

　　 "Charming! Charming!" echoed from every voice.

　　 "I may perhaps win a hundred thousand dollars in the

　　 lottery," said the naval officer's widow; "and if I do, we

　　 will travel- I and my daughter; and you, Mr. Alfred, must be

　　 our guide. We can all three travel together, with one or two

　　 more of our good friends." And she nodded in such a friendly

　　 way at the company, that each imagined himself to be the

　　 favored person who was to accompany them to Italy. "Yes, we

　　 must go," she continued; "but not to those parts where there

　　 are robbers. We will keep to Rome. In the public roads one is

　　 always safe."

　　 The daughter sighed very gently; and how much there may be

　　 in a sigh, or attributed to it! The young man attributed a

　　 great deal of meaning to this sigh. Those deep-blue eyes,

　　 which had been lit up this evening in honor of him, must

　　 conceal treasures, treasures of heart and mind, richer than

　　 all the glories of Rome; and so when he left the party that

　　 night, he had lost it completely to the young lady. The house

　　 of the naval officer's widow was the one most constantly

　　 visited by Mr. Alfred, the sculptor. It was soon understood

　　 that his visits were not intended for that lady, though they

　　 were the persons who kept up the conversation. He came for the

　　 sake of the daughter. They called her Kaela. Her name was

　　 really Karen Malena, and these two names had been contracted

　　 into the one name Kaela. She was really beautiful; but some

　　 said she was rather dull, and slept late of a morning.

　　 "She has been accustomed to that," her mother said. "She

　　 is a beauty, and they are always easily tired. She does sleep

　　 rather late; but that makes her eyes so clear."

　　 What power seemed to lie in the depths of those dark eyes!

　　 The young man felt the truth of the proverb, "Still waters run

　　 deep:" and his heart had sunk into their depths. He often

　　 talked of his adventures, and the mamma was as simple and

　　 eager in her questions as on the first evening they met. It

　　 was a pleasure to hear Alfred describe anything. He showed

　　 them colored plates of Naples, and spoke of excursions to

　　 Mount Vesuvius, and the eruptions of fire from it. The naval

　　 officer's widow had never heard of them before.

　　 "Good heavens!" she exclaimed. "So that is a burning

　　 mountain; but is it not very dangerous to the people who live

　　 near it?"

　　 "Whole cities have been destroyed," he replied; "for

　　 instance, Herculaneum and Pompeii."

　　 "Oh, the poor people! And you saw all that with your own

　　 eyes?"

　　 "No; I did not see any of the eruptions which are

　　 represented in those pictures; but I will show you a sketch of

　　 my own, which represents an eruption I once saw."

　　 He placed a pencil sketch on the table; and mamma, who had

　　 been over-powered with the appearance of the colored plates,

　　 threw a glance at the pale drawing and cried in astonishment,

　　 "What, did you see it throw up white fire?"

　　 For a moment, Alfred's respect for Kaela's mamma underwent

　　 a sudden shock, and lessened considerably; but, dazzled by the

　　 light which surrounded Kaela, he soon found it quite natural

　　 that the old lady should have no eye for color. After all, it

　　 was of very little consequence; for Kaela's mamma had the best

　　 of all possessions; namely, Kaela herself.

　　 Alfred and Kaela were betrothed, which was a very natural

　　 result; and the betrothal was announced in the newspaper of

　　 the little town. Mama purchased thirty copies of the paper,

　　 that she might cut out the paragraph and send it to friends

　　 and acquaintances. The betrothed pair were very happy, and the

　　 mother was happy too. She said it seemed like connecting

　　 herself with Thorwalsden.

　　 "You are a true successor of Thorwalsden," she said to

　　 Alfred; and it seemed to him as if, in this instance, mamma

　　 had said a clever thing. Kaela was silent; but her eyes shone,

　　 her lips smiled, every movement was graceful,- in fact, she

　　 was beautiful; that cannot be repeated too often. Alfred

　　 decided to take a bust of Kaela as well as of her mother. They

　　 sat to him accordingly, and saw how he moulded and formed the

　　 soft clay with his fingers.

　　 "I suppose it is only on our account that you perform this

　　 common-place work yourself, instead of leaving it to your

　　 servant to do all that sticking together."

　　 "It is really necessary that I should mould the clay

　　 myself," he replied.

　　 "Ah, yes, you are always so polite," said mamma, with a

　　 smile; and Kaela silently pressed his hand, all soiled as it

　　 was with the clay.

　　 Then he unfolded to them both the beauties of Nature, in

　　 all her works; he pointed out to them how, in the scale of

　　 creation, inanimate matter was inferior to animate nature; the

　　 plant above the mineral, the animal above the plant, and man

　　 above them all. He strove to show them how the beauty of the

　　 mind could be displayed in the outward form, and that it was

　　 the sculptor's task to seize upon that beauty of expression,

　　 and produce it in his works. Kaela stood silent, but nodded in

　　 approbation of what he said, while mamma-in-law made the

　　 following confession:-

　　 "It is difficult to follow you; but I go hobbling along

　　 after you with my thoughts, though what you say makes my head

　　 whirl round and round. Still I contrive to lay hold on some of

　　 it."

　　 Kaela's beauty had a firm hold on Alfred; it filled his

　　 soul, and held a mastery over him. Beauty beamed from Kaela's

　　 every feature, glittered in her eyes, lurked in the corners of

　　 her mouth, and pervaded every movement of her agile fingers.

　　 Alfred, the sculptor, saw this. He spoke only to her, thought

　　 only of her, and the two became one; and so it may be said she

　　 spoke much, for he was always talking to her; and he and she

　　 were one. Such was the betrothal, and then came the wedding,

　　 with bride's-maids and wedding presents, all duly mentioned in

　　 the wedding speech. Mamma-in-law had set up Thorwalsden's bust

　　 at the end of the table, attired in a dressing-gown; it was

　　 her fancy that he should be a guest. Songs were sung, and

　　 cheers given; for it was a gay wedding, and they were a

　　 handsome pair. "Pygmalion loved his Galatea," said one of the

　　 songs.

　　 "Ah, that is some of your mythologies," said mamma-in-law.

　　 Next day the youthful pair started for Copenhagen, where

　　 they were to live; mamma-in-law accompanied them, to attend to

　　 the "coarse work," as she always called the domestic

　　 arrangements. Kaela looked like a doll in a doll's house, for

　　 everything was bright and new, and so fine. There they sat,

　　 all three; and as for Alfred, a proverb may describe his

　　 position- he looked like a swan amongst the geese. The magic

　　 of form had enchanted him; he had looked at the casket without

　　 caring to inquire what it contained, and that omission often

　　 brings the greatest unhappiness into married life. The casket

　　 may be injured, the gilding may fall off, and then the

　　 purchaser regrets his bargain.

　　 In a large party it is very disagreeable to find a button

　　 giving way, with no studs at hand to fall back upon; but it is

　　 worse still in a large company to be conscious that your wife

　　 and mother-in-law are talking nonsense, and that you cannot

　　 depend upon yourself to produce a little ready wit to carry

　　   off the stupidity of the whole affair.

　　 The young married pair often sat together hand in hand; he

　　 would talk, but she could only now and then let fall a word in

　　 the same melodious voice, the same bell-like tones. It was a

　　 mental relief when Sophy, one of her friends, came to pay them

　　 a visit. Sophy was not, pretty. She was, however, quite free

　　 from any physical deformity, although Kaela used to say she

　　 was a little crooked; but no eye, save an intimate

　　 acquaintance, would have noticed it. She was a very sensible

　　 girl, yet it never occurred to her that she might be a

　　 dangerous person in such a house. Her appearance created a new

　　 atmosphere in the doll's house, and air was really required,

　　 they all owned that. They felt the want of a change of air,

　　 and consequently the young couple and their mother travelled

　　 to Italy.

　　 "Thank heaven we are at home again within our own four

　　 walls," said mamma-in-law and daughter both, on their return

　　 after a year's absence.

　　 "There is no real pleasure in travelling," said mamma; "to

　　 tell the truth, it's very wearisome; I beg pardon for saying

　　 so. I was soon very tired of it, although I had my children

　　 with me; and, besides, it's very expensive work travelling,

　　 very expensive. And all those galleries one is expected to

　　 see, and the quantity of things you are obliged to run after!

　　 It must be done, for very shame; you are sure to be asked when

　　 you come back if you have seen everything, and will most

　　 likely be told that you've omitted to see what was best worth

　　 seeing of all. I got tired at last of those endless Madonnas;

　　 I began to think I was turning into a Madonna myself."

　　 "And then the living, mamma," said Kaela.

　　 "Yes, indeed," she replied, "no such a thing as a

　　 respectable meat soup- their cookery is miserable stuff."

　　 The journey had also tired Kaela; but she was always

　　 fatigued, that was the worst of it. So they sent for Sophy,

　　 and she was taken into the house to reside with them, and her

　　 presence there was a great advantage. Mamma-in-law

　　 acknowledged that Sophy was not only a clever housewife, but

　　 well-informed and accomplished, though that could hardly be

　　 expected in a person of her limited means. She was also a

　　 generous-hearted, faithful girl; she showed that thoroughly

　　 while Kaela lay sick, fading away. When the casket is

　　 everything, the casket should be strong, or else all is over.

　　 And all was over with the casket, for Kaela died.

　　 "She was beautiful," said her mother; "she was quite

　　 different from the beauties they call 'antiques,' for they are

　　 so damaged. A beauty ought to be perfect, and Kaela was a

　　 perfect beauty."

　　 Alfred wept, and mamma wept, and they both wore mourning.

　　 The black dress suited mamma very well, and she wore mourning

　　 the longest. She had also to experience another grief in

　　 seeing Alfred marry again, marry Sophy, who was nothing at all

　　 to look at. "He's gone to the very extreme," said

　　 mamma-in-law; "he has gone from the most beautiful to the

　　 ugliest, and he has forgotten his first wife. Men have no

　　 constancy. My husband was a very different man,- but then he

　　 died before me."

　　 "'Pygmalion loved his Galatea,' was in the song they sung

　　 at my first wedding," said Alfred; "I once fell in love with a

　　 beautiful statue, which awoke to life in my arms; but the

　　 kindred soul, which is a gift from heaven, the angel who can

　　 feel and sympathize with and elevate us, I have not found and

　　 won till now. You came, Sophy, not in the glory of outward

　　 beauty, though you are even fairer than is necessary. The

　　 chief thing still remains. You came to teach the sculptor that

　　 his work is but dust and clay only, an outward form made of a

　　 material that decays, and that what we should seek to obtain

　　 is the etherealessence of mind and spirit. Poor Kaela! our

　　 life was but as a meeting by the way-side; in yonder world,

　　 where we shall know each other from a union of mind, we shall

　　 be but mere acquaintances."

　　 "That was not a loving speech," said Sophy, "nor spoken

　　 like a Christian. In a future state, where there is neither

　　 marrying nor giving in marriage, but where, as you say, souls

　　 are attracted to each other by sympathy; there everything

　　 beautiful develops itself, and is raised to a higher state of

　　 existence: her soul will acquire such completeness that it may

　　 harmonize with yours, even more than mine, and you will then

　　 once more utter your first rapturous exclamation of your love,

　　 'Beautiful, most beautiful!'"

　　 THE END