Part 15

“I have hesitated,” he said, “as to the precise punishment which I should inflict upon each of you, for indeed I hardly know of any which is sufficiently severe for the crimes which you have committed. I had thought, indeed, of transforming you into shapes different from your own, but still possessing human form, and causing you to experience in them the greatest trouble and misery to which human life is subject. I have still a great mind to do so. I am very much disposed to make one of you a leader in the world of fashion, the second a Member of Parliament, and the third the Head Master of a Public School, which is under the control of a Governing Body.”

At this point such a dreadful shriek broke simultaneously from the three witches, that the squirrels were obliged to be called in and ordered to pelt them with nuts, {218}until they again crouched trembling but silent on the ground before their judge.

“But,” continued he, without noticing the interruption, “it shall never be said of me that I was guilty of unnecessary cruelty. There _are_, I must own, punishments too severe even for crimes such as yours, and among such these might possibly be included. As I am a great and powerful, so am I a merciful fairy, and I shall not award you one iota of suffering more than is your due. Dame Stokes of Datchet, though bad enough, you are in some respects the best of the three. You have at least, as a rule, preserved your natural form; and could you but have persuaded yourself to give up that abominable, not to say ridiculous, habit of riding on a broomstick, you might have passed through life with all the ordinary comforts of an English peasant, and ended your days in respectability and the parish workhouse. Since, however, you have persisted in using as a horse that which was intended as a harmless and useful domestic implement, you must pay the penalty of your indiscretion. You will be changed into a donkey, and as such may remain in your native place.”

Dame Stokes was just commencing a loud howl at the news of her impending fate, when a gaily attired young mannikin stepped before the fairy, and, making a low obeisance, craved leave to speak, which was at once graciously accorded.

“Noble master,” said he, “if a poor mannikin may put in a word, is this sentence one which requires any transformation at all? A person who, being able to ride on anything else, chooses a broomstick, must already be such {219}a donkey as to render a further change in the same direction quite unnecessary.”

The great fairy smiled.

“Your words are true, my child,” he replied, “in one sense, but they only tend to confirm the wisdom of my sentence. A donkey in thought and action is not always a donkey in shape. Were it otherwise, the world would be much more largely populated by those worthy and industrious animals. It is no terrible fate to which I condemn the aged Stokes. She will forthwith enter upon an existence in which she may render no inconsiderable service to mortals, who, whilst they despise, will not scruple to use her; and should she, as is highly probable, at any period of time, become the property of an itinerant vendor of brooms, she will have every chance of acquiring a further knowledge of the purposes to which a broomstick may be properly applied.”

He spoke, and as he concluded, a change at once came over the figure and appearance of Dame Stokes. Great ears sprung up on each side of her head, which became at once altered and elongated into that of a donkey; her body followed the example; a huge tail appeared in the usual place allotted to such appendages, and in another moment she stood, a veritable ass, before the assembled throng.

Then the young man turned to the terrified Mother Wandle, and sternly addressed her in her turn.

“You,” he said, “though not so bad as the third, are worse than the first of your party. Not content with your own shape (which I will, however, own was not prepossessing), you have gone about the country in disguise, and have, moreover, disgraced the family of bats (many of {220}whom are honest and owl-fearing creatures) by-assuming the shape of one of them, and in this form perpetrating your wicked deeds. Now one of two things must be true. Either you were _not_ by rights a bat, and had therefore no right to the shape of one, or, being a bat, you had no business to disgrace the family. In either case you are equally guilty, and your punishment must be proportionately severe. Since you have evinced, by the most practical means within your power, the undoubted preference which you cherish for the form of a bat, a bat you shall remain for ever, and, once for all, quit that human shape which you have so foolishly despised. Henceforth be your life that of the animal whom you have loved to imitate in your midnight flittings. Behind shutters, under eaves, beneath old boards and barn-sides be hidden, wretch, from the face of the sun, and only come forth when the shades of evening steal over the face of the earth. Shun the gaze of mankind, whom you have only lived to annoy, and rank for the rest of your existence amongst the most lowly and feeble of animals.”

He spoke, and, as in the case of Dame Stokes, the form and figure of Mother Wandle changed even as he ceased speaking, and a huge and unsightly bat occupied the place of the old woman, whilst a murmur of applause and approval was uttered by all who witnessed the transformation.

Then the owl-fairy turned upon the wretched Goody Tickleback, who stood in gloomy silence awaiting the doom which she full well knew her crimes had deserved, but which was not likely to be one whit more palatable on that account.

“Vile {221}and degraded creature,” exclaimed the fairy, regarding the object of his address with a stern and angry countenance, “you have at last been brought to account for your numerous crimes, which exceed those of your companions in guilt, and have rightly made you detested by every one to whom you are known. You have gone on for a long time in your nefarious course, unchecked by any consideration for those innocent beings against whom your evil practices have been directed, and undeterred either by the pangs of that remorse, which must at times have overshadowed even such a hardened soul as yours, or by the fear of that punishment which, though long deferred, was certain to arrive at last. In your life you have exhibited the ferocity of a tiger, the cruelty of an hyæna, and the craft of a serpent. A serpent therefore you shall be for the future, and as you have, like the rest of your fraternity, always entertained a great horror of water, you shall be consigned for ever to that element, and become a sea-serpent for the rest of your existence.”

A wild yell broke from Goody Tickleback as these words left the lips of the royal fairy, and she burst forth into a desperate cry for a mitigation of so terrible a sentence..

“Oh no! oh no!” she shrieked aloud in the madness of her despair; “not that, not that, for mercy’s sake! anything but that! Make me a stone, or a stick, or a good birch-rod if you will, great fairy. I promise I will act up to my name, and tickle with good-will every back that comes under me, if you will only make me this instead of a horrible snake. Oh do! oh do! oh don’t----”

And {222}she ended her speech with a yell more awful than before as she felt the dreadful transformation which had been awarded begin slowly but surely to steal over her decrepit frame.

The fairy smiled coldly.

“Cruel to the last,” he observed. “The vile hag would be made an instrument of torture in an inanimate shape, since she may no longer torment people in her original form. But it may not be. The doom has been pronounced, and already begins to take effect.”

Even as he spoke, the form of the old woman gradually changed into that of an enormous sea-serpent, and her yells culminated in a fearful hissing, from which the legions of valiant birds instinctively recoiled. A scaly monster of the deep occupied the place--and rather more than the place--lately filled by old Goody Tickle-back, and the last of the three witches had now received her allotted punishment. The owl-fairy then struck the ground sharply three times with his ashen stick, and each of the three culprits departed different ways. The donkey stretched out its tail, erected its ears, elevated its head, and gave vent to sundry of those loud and discordant noises by which creatures of that particular species are distinguished from other four-footed beasts. Then, looking around once more, it slowly set off at a trot, which presently became a galop; and, passing through the ranks of the bird and mannikin army, which divided for its passage, took the direction of Datchet, and hastened thither as fast as it could lay legs to the ground.

I will not follow the adventures of the poor beast any longer, though I may as well tell you, Brother. Rhine, that {223}I know for a fact she lingered in the same neighbourhood for a very long time. Indeed, not many weeks since, whilst walking upon Dorney Common, I heard cries as of an animal in distress, and, looking round, beheld a seller of brooms vehemently belabouring a half-starved ass with a broomstick. The poor beast was in sad condition. It was laden with a heavy load of brooms, and its speaking eyes seemed to tell of much privation and suffering. I seemed somehow or other to remember the expression of the face, and in a few moments recalled the circumstances of which I have just been telling you. There indeed was old Dame Stokes, serving out her time in long apprenticeship to misery and punishment, and experiencing that practical application of the broomstick which the owl-fairy had foretold. I passed on my way to the river, and sighed as I thought over her fate, pondering meanwhile upon the melancholy fact that sin should be so attractive as it had proved to this old woman, when its punishment, sooner or later, is so certain and is of so much more enduring a character than the questionable pleasure which has earned it.

As to Mother Wandle, there is but little to tell of her. As soon as she was permitted to do so, she flitted away across my river in the direction of Windsor Forest, and, for anything I know, may be there still. Bats are not creatures that one ever hears much of, nor have I been accustomed to interest myself particularly in their proceedings; but if you happen to see an especially ugly and repulsive bat, it is quite as likely to be old Mother Wandle as anybody else, and you may be sure that she is still enduring the punishment so justly inflicted upon her by a righteous judge.

Goody {224}Tickleback’s exit from the scene was of a more marked and singular character. It would have been difficult to have disposed of so gigantic a monster by any ordinary process. It could not have travelled by land to the ocean, except on wheels; and although it might have been possible to have paid expenses by sending it thither in the caravan of a travelling showman--supposing a vehicle of that description, and of sufficiently large size, to have been in being--such a course would have been scarcely consistent with the usage of fairyland, or with the nature and circumstances of the case. It might, of course, have been possible to have floated the creature down the waters of my river, but against such a proceeding my nymphs, elves, and swans would have protested indignantly, even had I been disposed for a moment to sanction it. Besides this, the inconvenience to traffic, and the bad odour which so foul a reptile would leave in the water, not to mention its possible indulgence in some mischievous and destructive habits which would have brought the river into bad repute, were all difficulties in the way. I could not allow a “Thames nuisance” to be thus originated which would have been probably fraught with most unpleasant consequences, and could have done no possible good to anybody. This, therefore, being out of the question, it only remained for the owl-fairy to exercise his magic power somewhat further, and get rid of the vast and cumbrous body which he had seen fit to create. The wonderful being made not the slightest difficulty. Waving his rod three times above his head, and describing with it a circle in the air, he struck upon the ground, which immediately opened wide beneath the hideous {225}serpent, and exhibited an enormous chasm, down which it slowly disappeared, and was seen no more in those regions of the earth.

Marvellous legends, however, have been told of the great Sea-serpent since that day, and those who know the circumstances which I have related are able to judge of their truth better than the ignorant and unlearned.

At times, when, far out at sea, the waves are running mountains high, the ship can scarce weather the storm, and some of the affrighted sailors have betaken themselves to their boats in hopes to preserve their lives, a hideous monster is said to rise from the deep, encircling and crushing the boat with its gigantic coil, and striking with its cruel fangs the drowning mariners. At other times, when all is calm, and the surface of the ocean ripples softly, like a lake stirred by the zephyrs’ softest breath, {226}a huge and awful form may be seen floating on the waves, slowly making its way through the waters, and ever and anon raising its hideous serpent-head aloft, as if in search of something to injure or destroy. Wonderful tales do the sailor men bring home of this extraordinary creature, and wise folk oftentimes shake their heads and affect to disbelieve in its existence. But we, Brother Rhine, who know this chronicle of early days which I have just been telling, shake no heads over the matter, and entertain no doubt of the reality of the sight which the sons of Neptune aver that they have seen. Old Goody Tickleback is the great Sea-serpent, and my only wonder is that, when the great owl-fairy was about it, he did not put her out of the way altogether, instead of leaving her in a position in which she could still work so much mischief to mortal men. I suppose, however, that fairies, like other people, know their own business best; and there was probably some reason against this self-evidently wise course which does not occur to those who do not happen themselves to be fairies.

In this manner, anyhow, the three witches were comfortably disposed of, and, to my mind, there never was a clearer case of “a good riddance of bad rubbish.” Having accomplished his task, the owl-fairy now reentered his carriage, and directed the troops to pass before him, which they accordingly did, each company saluting as it passed. The review being finished, the whole procession returned to the wood in the same order as that in which they had emerged from it, and in a very short time the banks of the river were as quiet as if nothing unusual had happened. The mannikins were never {227}afterwards molested by witches or any such nefarious customers, and, as long as they chose to inhabit the castle, they were perfectly free from disturbance or attack. Time at last did its work upon the old walls, and when the hum of the steam-engine began to be heard in the land this was no longer a place for mannikins. They flitted I know not where, and the owl-fairy doubtless went with them. I could perhaps tell you more, but melancholy thoughts come over me as I speak of the departure of old friends and neighbours, and I think, with your good leave, I will here bring my legend to a conclusion.

“Thanks, good brother,” said the Monarch of the Rhine, as Father Thames ceased speaking. “Yet would I fain inquire who or what was this great owl-fairy?”

His companion smiled grimly. “Hast thou so soon forgotten thine own objection to questions concerning our legends when finished?” he asked. “Nevertheless I would tell thee if I could, but I fear to speak with certainty upon a subject which has ever been shrouded in doubt. Most authorities agree that this mighty being could be none other than he of whom mention was made in my first legend--that of the Wild Boar of Windsor Forest. But the great fairy, Toddlekins, did not announce himself on the occasion of the transformation of the three witches; and the only proof that it was he who reigned over the mannikins and delivered them from their enemies consists in the similarity of his appearance with that of the rescuer of Smith in the Druid days. I incline to think it may have been him; and we know that wherever Toddlekins has power good prevails {228}and evil flies from his presence; but more I cannot tell you.”

“Be it so, brother,” returned he of the Rhine; “the matter, anyhow, ended well, and I would that my Rhineland had a fairy Toddlekins as well as thy favoured country.”

Father Thames smiled grimly. “There never could be two such as Toddlekins in this world,” replied he; “and it is a blessing for me and mine that there has been one. But come, Brother Rhine, there is yet time for another legend. Hast thou none of the old war times, and of the brave German barons who fought so oft and so fiercely?”

“Ay, that have I, many an one,” responded the other. “I bethink me, moreover, of one which is not strictly or wholly of mine own land, nor in truth do I know precisely to what land it can be said entirely to belong. It is one, however, which has been handed down to us in verse, if you object not to a tale told in such fashion.”

“Object, indeed!” cried jolly old Father Thames in a pleasant voice. “How or why should I object? Are not some of our very best English legends told in verse? Witness that excellent old story of--

‘Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And so was old King Tudor; But merrier still was Miss Mary Cole, When the Earl of Pembroke woo’d her.’

That _is_ a fine legend, if you please! I heard it all told by a descendant of the Cole family, who stumbled on the story in an old manuscript, and instantly went out to Cannes, in the South of France, where he studied it carefully {229}with a view to producing it for the benefit of the English public, and was only prevented from doing so by his sisters, who insisted upon it that the wooing done in their family, even at a remote period, was a matter of private history which should never be allowed to become public property. Perhaps they had some affair of the same kind in hand themselves, and did not want to establish an inconvenient precedent.”

“Very likely,” remarked the Rhine King somewhat sulkily; “but if you go on like this I shall never get away. Pray give a fellow a chance, and don’t keep all the talk to yourself--you and your Coles.”

“Hold hard!” cried Father Thames at this. “I am not going to be ‘called over the coals’ by any foreigner.”

“A truce to your puns!” said he of the Rhine; and as Father Thames said no more, he at once began the song of:--

SIR RODERICK FOWLE--A LEGEND OF THE OLDEN TIME.

I.

Sir Roderick Fowle has returned from the East, Where believers are fighting the Paynim; Though they slaughtered his squire, and they wounded his beast, No Saracen foeman has slain him.

II.

He has crossed the salt seas, and has come to the land Where no man of battle afraid is, But all have, in war, a keen blade and strong hand, And, in peace, a true heart for the ladies.

III.

To {230}the land of the Gaul is Sir Roderick come (Concluded his Saracen fighting), And with joy and delight is struck perfectly dumb, On the shores of his country alighting--

IV.

The land where he’d lived as an innocent child (And now he’s a vigorous man, see!), Where Ida, the lovely, had first on him smiled And captured his heart and his fancy.

V.

Sweet Ida, the daughter of Montmolon’s lord (How blest to possess such a daughter!), Was fairest of fair demoiselles--in a word, All the marrying bachelors sought her.

VI.

But “attentions” she cared for but little, said she, And, really, seemed scarcely to heed’em; And for marrying! oh! ’twas like “felo de se,” If you _could_ keep your spinsterly freedom.

VII.

So she turned up her aquiline nose at them all, And refused a round dozen of offers From lords and from knights, who would constantly fall At her feet with their hearts and their coffers.

VIII.

Till fate in her way threw Sir Roderick Fowle, Before he departed this war on, Then love made the damsel as blind as an owl, And she promised herself to the Baron.

IX.

The {231}war was declared--there was no time to woo, When legions and armies were forming, But, handsome and bold, he knew well what to do, So he carried the fortress by storming.

X.

And she promised to wed, if he shouldn’t be dead, When the Christians had settled the Paynim. He must go there, he said; but she wanted, instead, By her apron-string still to detain him.

XI.

But he’d promised to go, and he would, and he must (These men are such obstinate cattle!), So his heart to her keeping the lover did trust, And set off, like a man, to the battle.

XII.

He went, and he came, and sustained his great name, For when was a Fowle e’er behindhand? And returned to receive the sweet laurels of fame From his Ida’s most willing and kind hand.

XIII.

When a man’s seeking _laurels_, to keep him at _bay_ Is a deed most exceedingly cruel, So we’ll hasten our baron along on his way To the casket which held his bright jewel.

XIV.

Lofty and high were the Montmolon towers, And fortified, too, beyond measure, Lest any bold lord of the neighbouring powers Should harry the Montmolon treasure.

XV.

Sir {232}Roderick gazed on the gloomy old wall, Which the ivy was slowly corroding, When a sight met his eyes which his heart did appal, And fill with a fearful foreboding.

XVI.

Where the Montmolon banner of old used to wave, And merrily flaunt in the breezes, No banner hung now--all was still as the grave, Or the form that death’s quietude seizes.

XVII.

The place looked so bleak--‘tis a sad thing to speak, But sad things sometimes must be spoken; And the winds they did shriek through that castle antique, For there wasn’t a window unbroken!

XVIII.

The mark of a foe did Sir Roderick know Full well--far too well to mistake it; And he groaned deep and low, in sad accents of woe, Ere he turned round his horse to forsake it.

XIX.

But he stopped; for a groan quite as sad as his own Seemed to come from the shrubberies near him, And an old man he spied, sitting there all alone, Who appeared in no manner to fear him.

XX.

He approached, and affright half gave way to delight At the chance his lost bride to regain her, When he recognised quite, in this dolorous wight, A Montmolon former retainer.

XXI.

“Old {233}man!” he cried out, “what’s this fuss all about? And has there been any disaster? You seemed crippled, no doubt: is’t rheumatics or gout? And where are your mistress and master?”

XXII.

With a guttural sigh, like one going to die, The man raised him up on his knees, and Thus made him reply, though the news, by-the-bye, He scarce could get out of his weasand.

XXIII.

“I’ve a sad tale to crack. Noble sir, you’ve come back To a house sacked from basement to attics; Too long do I lack kitchen chimney and jack For gout--let alone the rheumatics!

XXIV.