The Hawthorne: A Christmas and New Years Present

by Unknown

The following extraordinary story is declared by the authoress, Mademoiselle Vanhove, to be strictly true in its leading incidents.

Madame Dorival was the widow of a distinguished French officer, who had died in the service of his country. Finding it difficult, without the closest economy, to support her family genteelly on the pension allowed her by government, and being anxious to secure an independence for her children in case of her death, she was induced to open a boarding-school in the vicinity of Paris. The assistance of her two highly accomplished daughters, Lucilla and Julia, made the employment of female teachers unnecessary; but she engaged the best masters for music, dancing, drawing and painting, and the fashionable foreign languages. Her establishment was conducted on a most liberal scale, and each of the twenty young ladies who became her pupils had a separate apartment.

Among these young ladies, was Josephine Vericour, who took lessons in miniature painting, with the view of exercising that branch of the art as a profession; the circumstances of her family being such that it was necessary to educate her, in the prospect of turning her talents to a profitable account.

Her imagination being deeply impressed with this object, she thought of it nearly all day, and dreamed of it at night. That she had much natural talent for drawing, was unquestionable; but she was only fifteen, she was not a prodigy, and in every thing she had as yet produced was to be found a due portion of errors and defects. With an ardent ambition to excel, Josephine was the victim of a painful and unconquerable timidity, and an entire want of confidence in herself. She had attempted likenesses of all her school-mates, one after another, and was disheartened and discouraged because none of them were perfect, and was overwhelmed with mortification when she heard them criticised. The remarks of the gentleman who instructed her, though very judicious, were often so severe, that she was frequently almost tempted to throw away her pencil in despair, and she never painted worse than when under the eye of her master.

One morning in the garden, she was struck with the graceful and picturesque attitude in which two of her companions had unconsciously thrown themselves, one of them, having put her arm round the waist of the other, was pointing out to her notice a beautiful butterfly that had just settled on a rose. Josephine begged of the girls to remain in that position while she sketched them on the blank leaf of a book. Afterwards she made a separate drawing of each of their faces, and then transferred the whole to a large sheet of ivory, intending to make a picture of it in the miniature style. But she determined to work at it in her own chamber, at leisure hours, and not to allow it to be seen till it was entirely finished. In six weeks there was to be a private examination, at which premiums were to be awarded to those who excelled in the different branches taught at Madame Dorival's school. Seven of the young ladies were taking lessons in miniature-painting, all of whom, in the eyes of the diffident Josephine, possessed far more talent than herself. Still, she knew that industry, application, and an ardent desire to succeed, had often effected wonders; and she was extremely anxious to gratify her parents by obtaining the prize, if possible.

In the retirement of her own room she painted with unremitting solicitude, but, as she thought, with very indifferent success; and one afternoon, more dissatisfied than usual with the result of her work, she hastily took the ivory from her little easel, and put it into the drawer of her colour-box, which she consigned to its usual place in the drawer of her table.

Next morning, what was the surprise of Josephine, to find her picture standing against the easel on the table, and much farther advanced than when she had quitted it the preceding evening, and the faults which had then discouraged her, entirely rectified. She tried to recollect if she had really put away the picture, and her memory recalled every circumstance of her shutting it up in the drawer. But she had no recollection of having previously corrected any of the errors; indeed, she knew that she had not, and the only way in which she could attempt to solve the mystery, was to suppose that some one, with the intention of exciting a laugh at her expense, had come into her room during the night, taken out the picture, and re-touched it.

She mentioned it to no one; but the next night, to guard against a recurrence of the same trick, she arranged every thing in the neatest order, locked up her picture in the secret drawer at the bottom of her colour-box, and placed it under her bolster.

But her astonishment was redoubled, when awaking at an early hour the next morning, she put her hand under the bolster to feel for her box and found it gone! She ran to the table, and saw there the colour-box lying beside the picture, which, as before, was leaning against the easel, and evidently much improved. She thought that it now began to look beautifully, and she could not withdraw her delighted eyes from contemplating it.

Still she felt persuaded that it was all a trick, for which she should pay dearly when an explanation took place. She was afraid to touch it again, lest her own inferior pencil should destroy some of its beauties; though at the same time she remarked a few trifling defects, which she had not been conscious of when painting at it the day before. But rather than run the risk of spoiling the whole, she preferred leaving these little imperfections as they were. Sometimes she thought of showing it to her governess and to her master; but the time of the examination approached, and the temptation of keeping the secret was very great.