Part 12

“It may perhaps be objected to our hero Hans, Brother Thames, that his language was somewhat of what is termed a ‘slang’ character; but if critics make, as critics will, such remarks, they should remember that, in the days of which I am speaking, tailors were not, as now, upon an equality with educated gentlemen, and their language was not unnaturally somewhat less polished and refined than might otherwise have been the case. I should willingly put into the mouth of Hans expressions of a nature better calculated to please the superlatively well-conditioned gentlemen who, in these days {172}when all men are equal, speak with acknowledged accuracy of taste and grammar, whether they chance to have been half, wholly, or not at all educated, and cannot endure in the mouths of others anything which falls short of their own high standard; but I speak of things and people as they really were in those old days, and I cannot alter the truth for anybody.

“Hans was only a tailor, and perhaps a little vulgar into the bargain, and he certainly accosted the old giant with more slang expressions and less respect than his age and rank might have entitled him to expect. So it was, however, and, what is more, the result was the same as it would probably have been if Hans had used other and better language to express his meaning.

“Old Bramble-buffer no sooner heard the conditions imposed than he winked his eye again without the smallest hesitation, in order to signify that he agreed to the bargain. Upon this our friend Hans immediately summoned his companions, who came at once, and, being ordered by him to do so, climbed upon the face of the still-prostrate foe, and, at Hans’ further commands, took up the positions which he indicated. Three of them sat quietly upon his forehead, whilst two others sat, one over each of his eyes, holding in their hands a sharp dagger which they kept suspended just above his eyelids.

“‘Now, old boy,’ shouted Hans again, right into the ear of the giant, ‘look here; I am going to keep my part of the bargain, and begin to set you free. If, when your mouth is open, you cry out for help, or say or do anything unpleasant, straight into your eyes go these two daggers, and you will find that you will fare much {173}worse than if you had kept your word. As soon as your voice is free, you will swear the Big Oath of the giants to be the slave of our people henceforth; and you shall then be set free from the other bonds by which you are now constrained.’

“Having said these words, Hans boldly descended once more into the huge mouth of his former enemy, accompanied by his remaining companions, who carried a lantern. Then, taking up his spear, which he had removed from its position in the giant’s jaws as soon as the beams and rafters had been all fixed and securely built in, he carefully moved one of these, which was the key {174}to the whole edifice, and then, jumping out of the mouth, told the owner thereof that he could do the rest himself. This, indeed, was the case, for with a vigorous crunch of his jaws, Bramble-buffer now smashed beams, rafters, joists, and planks all into one shapeless mass, which he forthwith spat out of his mouth as fast as he could, and afterwards indulged in a long, deep sigh of relief. It was a moment of agonizing suspense to the men. Suppose the giant should play false? They might indeed put out his eyes, but his roars would probably bring other giants to his aid before long, and, when free, his vengeance would be terrible. A very few seconds, however, put an end to their doubts, and dissipated all their fears. The race of giants are a curious combination of good and evil, and if the latter generally predominates, it is really not so much from natural or inherent vice as from defective education, there being a sad want of elementary schools among giants, and few people big enough to undertake the instruction of their youth. But no well-born giant of average respectability breaks the great giant oath, and this was what Bramble-buffer had promised to take. Nor was he false to his promise: as soon as he had recovered his powers of speech, his very first words were as follows, pronounced in rhyme, doubtless for the sake of emphasis:--

‘By the mountains of the earth; By the ground which gave me birth; By the streams which here do flow; By the cots I’ve oft laid low;

By the woods and forests great; By the woven web of Fate; By the waters of the Rhine, Swear I now this oath of mine:--

War with man henceforth t’ eschew, To their cause for e’er be true, All their mandates to obey, Willing slave by night or day,

To their will submissive bow, Since they grant my freedom now!’

“It {175}is but doing justice to the estimation in which the character of the giants as vow-keepers stood, to say that from the moment that old Bramble-buffer pronounced these words, not one of the seven heroes who stood on and about his face at the time of his dozing had the smallest fear for themselves, or for those to whom he had just vowed obedience. They felt, on the contrary, such entire confidence in the moral probity of their old enemy, and in his honest intention to observe his oath in the most religious manner, that they immediately threw down their daggers (in such a reckless manner as might have proved serious to the face of the old giant if they had not fortunately fallen in his whiskers), and proceeded without delay to climb down and set free the hairs which they had so securely fastened with cords and ropes. Little by little they separated those disagreeable knots and ties, and the emancipated Bramble-buffer at last rose once more from the ground a free giant.

“As soon as he was upon his legs, the first thing he did was to shake himself violently, and in so doing cause the earth to tremble beneath him as from the shock of an earthquake. He then spoke humbly to Hans, and asked his will; but as in doing this he employed his ordinary voice, which was not unlike thunder, his conqueror made the first use of his power by desiring his slave to speak in a whisper for the future, {176}unless he should happen to be standing at a great distance from the person addressed. He next directed the captive Bramble-buffer to carry him and his companions to the cave in which they had left the rest of the mortals. This cave was formed out of rocks, close to the vast ruins of an ancient castle, which at some distant time had been built in a very strong position, but which age or giants had long ago partially demolished. In front of the cave huge rocks jutted out on all sides, and on a plateau of rock there came out several of the mortals to receive Hans and his prisoner, as soon as the news had spread that they were near at hand.

“Bramble-buffer had meekly obeyed the commands of his master, and brought him and his six volunteers safely to the place they desired. Then Hans, having directed that he should be placed upon a table of rock just opposite that on which the other mortals were standing, and which was about on a level with the giant’s head as he stood below, introduced their new slave to his fellow-men, and related to them the perils and adventures through which he and his six friends had passed, and the successful issue to which they had brought the affair which had been entrusted to them. Upon this the men all set up a shout of joy, as they gazed with unfeigned delight upon their old enemy, humbled and brought low as he was.

“Then there followed the usual course of action in such matters. Everybody praised Hans, and everybody pretended that _they_ had known his talents, skill, and bravery from the first, and had always been in favour of the expedition which he had planned and executed.

One {177}would have thought that the old gentleman, at least, would have remained silent, but this was far from being the case. On the contrary, he was foremost in offering his congratulations to the triumphant Hans, and even went so far as to say that he could not help taking some credit to himself in the matter, for that, highly approving of his scheme from the first moment he heard it, and being most anxious for its success, he had known that a little pretended opposition was the only way to get up a feeling in favour of it among the general throng, and had therefore spoken doubtfully in order to secure this result. His wisdom, he added, had been amply justified; Hans had succeeded as he, the old gentleman, had always known he must and would succeed, and he hoped he would ever be grateful to those whose age and experience had assisted him at the first beginning of the affair.

“Hans listened with respectful attention to this speech, and to many of a similar character from that large class of persons who always tell one after an event has happened that they perfectly well knew it would occur, and had often prophesied it beforehand. He did not deem it necessary to make any answer, but accepted all the compliments offered him with becoming modesty, and told his friends plainly that he had acted for the general benefit, and was very thankful that success had crowned his efforts. Many rewards were, of course, bestowed upon the hero: he was made a knight of several orders, which conferred the right to wear certain stars and crosses at court, which was accounted a great privilege in those days, and was all the more valued because it was always so uncertain to whom {178}it would be given, some persons who had done nothing to deserve it being frequently thus decorated, while others were left out who had fairly earned it by service rendered to the public. But everybody rejoiced in the honours showered upon Sir Hans, and tailoring immediately grew fashionable and has so continued ever since.

“From that time forth there is but little of interest to relate to you concerning the giant Bramble-buffer. He honestly and diligently performed his duty to his masters, making and altering mountains for them when required, holding a gigantic umbrella over particular crops which the rain would have damaged when a storm happened to break over them, and performing very many other offices for the performance of which brute strength was required. In short, he proved a most faithful, useful, and obedient servant, never grumbled at being required to rise early, complained of his victuals, or said that, ‘it wasn’t his place’ to do any particular service asked of him, but did his duty like a true and good giant, and was consequently happy and contented during the whole of his remaining life. I cannot tell you precisely when that life terminated, but I rather fancy his head got confused when two great nations took to quarrelling as to which of them had the best claim to my river, and consequently to the giant who served the population of the country near, and if this absurdity on the part of mortals turned with them into madness, it is not a matter of surprise that the same disease fell upon the less powerful intellect of the poor giant, and that he put an end to himself when, like the nations themselves, he was labouring under ‘temporary insanity.’ At all events, I have told you his legend as {179}far as it has been well authenticated, and will now leave you to pass your opinion thereupon.”

“A good tale, indeed, Brother Rhine,” remarked Father Thames at the conclusion of this story.

“I am glad you approve of it,” replied the other. “Have you never had giants of this kind in your own country, Brother Thames?”

Thus addressed, the old king pondered for awhile, and then made answer as follows:--“Yes, we have had giants, of one sort or another, in old England, but rarely of the size, and scarce even of the mischievous character, of your Daddyroarers. But since you have told me a tale of the giant, let me give you a legend of the small people;” and so saying Father Thames commenced the history of--

THE MANNIKINS’ CASTLE

I don’t pretend, Brother Rhine, to have as many haunted castles upon my banks as you have on and about the sides of your famous river. I have always denied that the chief merit of a castle consists in its being haunted, and the simple-minded people who inhabit this old England of ours look to the circumstance of their houses being comfortable to live in, free from draughts and bad smells, large enough to entertain their friends, and possessed of good kitchen arrangements, rather than to their being the residence of any supernatural beings such as those of which you and your castles appear to be so proud. Moreover I have often observed that the presence of such creatures is constantly connected with the commission of some frightful {180}crime at a distant period of time, the perpetrator of which appears desirous to perpetuate its memory by haunting the place where it was performed as much as he or she conveniently can. We islanders, on the contrary, when any of us happen to commit a crime, prefer that it should be forgotten as soon as possible, and think it very indecent and improper of any member of a respectable family who may have distinguished himself in the paths of vice if he seeks to keep up the remembrance thereof, and throw a stain upon the escutcheon of his house by coming back again to earth after he has once left it for the benefit of the survivors. There are exceptions, of course, to this rule, but I state what I believe to be the popular feeling here upon the subject; and although I am going to tell you a story which concerns a castle, and also beings not strictly mortal or ordinary, I may at once tell you that, so far as I know, no murder was ever committed there, and no ghost or demon of an unpleasant character ever entered the place, except under the casual circumstances which I shall presently relate.

It was an old castle, however; a very old castle, built much more massively than the structures of modern times, and full of curious old bits of wall, over which antiquaries would puzzle nowadays to determine their date, and having here and there wonderful windows with huge stone mullions set into the great, deep walls, and apparently built with the intention of lasting until the end of the world. In the chief window of this old ruin--for a ruin it was at the time of my story--there habitually sat a large black owl, who was generally supposed to be the lord and ruler of the place.

Perhaps _he_ was a spirit if one only knew it, but as no one _did_ know {182}it, it never entered anybody’s head to say so. He was hardly mortal though, for he not only hooted like an ordinary owl, but spoke like a Christian; at least so I suppose, or how would he have made himself understood by other beings who were _not_ owls, and who yet had to communicate with him? For beings more extraordinary than owls inhabited the old castle. A large number of mannikins had taken possession of it some years after its abandonment by mortals, and here the merry little creatures would sport and gambol all the livelong day. They used to clamber about the strong ivy-trees that grew up the sides of the old walls, playing at hide and seek among the thick leaves, and making the place re-echo with their joyous shouts. They were wont to sport and play with the large lizards which basked upon the walls when the sun came out with rays bright and strong, and warm enough to tempt them to do so, and they would scamper up and down the whole place, trying their skill in ascending and descending the steepest and most perpendicular places in the old walls, where the stone was crumbling away from sheer age, and where no being of mortal frame and mould could have found a secure footing for a moment. Oh, they were merry little chaps, those mannikins!

Within the precincts of the castle itself, in the ancient courtyards which once reverberated with the shrill blast of trumpets calling men forth to war; where men-at-arms formerly strode boldly along, filled with warlike ardour, and where martial sounds rang out loud and oft in the days of old, grass was now growing long and rank, which was trodden under foot only by the lively mannikins in their daily and nightly dances, whilst their shrill and merry cries replaced those sterner sounds which had long {183}since ceased, and those who had caused them had passed for ever from mortal ken and mortal vision. All was indeed changed; but I am not prepared to say that the change was not for the better, for I was never fond of the old feudal times myself; and the barons who used to possess such castles, and send forth their retainers to fight, were much more troublesome people to the world at large, and their neighbours in particular, than were the little mannikins who played around the old place, or the wise old owl who blinked his eyes cosily and comfortably in the stone window.

You would have thought that such innocent creatures as owls and mannikins could have had no enemies, but must have been on good terms with all their fellow-creatures of every description. True, they sometimes made themselves disagreeable in the way of taking new-laid eggs from farmyards which were within temptingly easy reach of their own abode, and now and then they were shrewdly suspected of having milked a cow with which they had no business, and stolen cream when the dairymaid had been careless enough to leave the dairy-door unlocked. In these particulars, though, they were, after all, no worse than mortals have frequently been, and in fact not half so bad, inasmuch as they made what return they could to the country people who might have now and then suffered from their depredations, sometimes going out in the moonlight nights and making their hay for them or finishing the cutting of a cornfield, and even condescending so far, on more than one occasion, as to sweep a chimney and thoroughly dust a kitchen floor. For they were very active little fellows, those mannikins, and could turn their hands to almost anything if they saw fit to do so.

They {184}had some enemies no doubt, in wild and evil-disposed animals, for they loved to warn the lamb when the wolf was lying in wait for him, and often saved the poultry by a timely notice that the fox was coming, whereby they incurred the wrath and hatred of these midnight marauders. But the chief and principal of their enemies were the witches, who have during all ages been a plague to this otherwise favoured land. I say advisedly, in all ages, because this is indeed the truth, although in their form and shape, as well as in their method of doing mischief, persons of this class have wonderfully changed. In old times they were generally of repulsive appearance, oftentimes clad in a red cloak, generally with a stick in one hand, and almost invariably humpbacked or misshapen in some way, and attended by a familiar in the shape of a cat. They were consulted only on serious affairs, or when somebody wanted to be revenged upon somebody else; they were malicious in their words and actions; hated everything good, respectable, and handsome; and, if possible, transformed it as soon as they could into something quite the reverse. Nowadays, our English witches are entirely different: their shape is usually beautiful, their figure perfect, their eyes bright and full of expression, and their dress made in admirable good taste and after an exceedingly becoming fashion. They have no familiar spirit, and the best of them allow no one to be too familiar with them; neither do they change the form and shape of mankind into those of hideous creatures, but, on the contrary, rather prefer that men should be handsome and well shaped; but they still exercise over them an almost resistless sway, which, however, is far more {185}willingly obeyed than was the power of the witches of the old times; and they are now consulted, not so much on matters of hate and revenge, as on those which concern feelings far more desirable to be cherished in the human breast.

But the witches of whom I have to speak to-day hated the mannikins as much as a certain person is said to hate holy water. The reason of this was sufficiently obvious, and arose from the entire and radical difference between the views of the two sets of beings. The mannikins were, as I have said, although mischievous, the friends of mankind; the witches were the enemies of everything human which was not as wicked as themselves: the mannikins found pleasure in the most innocent amusements; the witches had no satisfaction in anything which did not injure or give pain to somebody else: the mannikins were gay and cheerful, the witches dull and morose, save when under the influence of strong drink: the mannikins generally ran about on their own legs; the witches habitually rode broomsticks, or toads, or whatever else came in their way and could be made to serve as a horse--in fine, the mannikins and witches did not, could not, and were never likely to, agree upon any one point or in any one feature of resemblance, and therefore it was not unnatural that they should be animated by feelings of hostility the one against the other. I am bound to say, however, that the mannikins never wished to interfere with or annoy the witches, and would have been well content to keep out of their way altogether if they could only have managed to do so. It was the witches who went out of their way to tease and bully the mannikins whenever they could, and who were {186}entirely responsible for all the troubles which occurred in consequence.

Not far from the owl’s castle was a large forest, in which all kinds of creatures dwelt, and of which the little people from the castle made great and frequent use. They dearly loved to wander amongst the enormous trees, climbing over their branches, and playing around their gigantic trunks. One tree in particular there was which they held very precious. It had fallen down, and lay in the forest, covering a prodigious space of ground. On, under, and around it, wherever they could do so, the little mannikins planted a large number of fungi, under which they sought shelter from the rays of the sun or the pelting of the storm, and which they called their summer palace. Here they would spend hour after hour when the weather was favourable, and I have often wandered up from my river to have a sly peep at the merry little creatures sporting and playing whilst the distant moon shone upon them from afar, lighting up the walls of the old castle in the distance, and bathing with a flood of light the forest and fallen tree and the mannikins’ playground around the latter. There they would be, sure enough, night after night, running one after the other round the tree and under the fungi, having sometimes coaxed a butterfly or two, a big blue-bottle fly, or some other lively insect, to sit up with them and make a night of it.

One would have thought that it would have been scarcely worth the witches’ while to have troubled themselves with these harmless people, when there was so much more mischief of a practical character to be done in the world without. But there is no accounting for tastes, {187}and when the evil passion of malice once seizes upon any one, whether mortal or witch, no one can tell to what extremities it will lead. Accordingly, several of the most notorious witches in that part of the country (and ever since England was a country, Berkshire and Buckinghamshire have been the favourite abodes of witches) resolved to harass and worry the mannikins by every means within their power.

Dame Stokes, Mother Wandle, and old Goody Tickleback {188}were the names of the three principal plotters, and a rare bad lot they were when you came to know them. Dame Stokes lived at Datchet, whence she generally sallied forth upon one of the biggest broomsticks ever known in that part of the country.