River Legends; Or, Father Thames and Father Rhine
usual, and there came a noise as if a wing--had flapped against window
of the state-room in which the family were assembled that evening, he
howled miserably, the ground, and almost went into convulsions with
alarm.
This behaviour on the part of his supposed son struck the Baron as
strange, and was, indeed, the cause of some coldness between him and his
wife. For, being a man somewhat proud of the chivalry and courage of
his high ancestry, this display of cowardice on the part of his
{073}probable heir and successor greatly irritated the old gentleman,
and he boldly declared that he was sure it all came from the mother’s
side. Such an accusation naturally put the Baroness into one of her
passions, in the course of which she went so far as to pull off her
husband’s wig and slap his cheeks. This indignity was one to which the
Baron could scarcely be expected to submit, and having soundly shaken
his respected consort, he left the room in high dudgeon, and took his
meals alone for the next three days, which annoyed the Baroness more
than anything else, as it left her only her daughters and servants to
scold, which had become rather insipid. After a while this conduct of
the child was set down to constitutional timidity, and the Baron only
smiled contemptuously when it was repeated.
So time wore on, and it really seemed as if there was no reason why the
truth should ever be discovered, or the success of Martha Scweinvolt’s
wicked scheme be otherwise than complete. It was not, however, wholly
satisfactory to the waiting-maid herself, for, independently of the
unpleasant behaviour of the false heir towards her, she had not even the
satisfaction of seeing her mistress suffer as she had hoped. So it is
that people who consult demons, or, what is nearly as bad, follow the
dictates of their own evil passions, are generally deceived in the
result, and find that the good to themselves which they expected to
obtain pretty certainly ends in disappointment.
Although the Baroness had at first declared that the child brought to
her by Sophie Grutchen on that eventful morning was not her own, she
had become reconciled to the state of things in a marvellously short
{074}time, fancied that, after all, she must have been under some
delusion, and in a very few days took kindly to the infant. As he grew
up, her fondness for him increased, and, in spite of what has been so
often said and written about the unfailing instinct of a mother, she
firmly believed him to be her own son. Instead, therefore, of her
heart-strings being wrung, as Martha had charitably hoped would have
been the case, she was by no means unhappy. True it is, she suffered
somewhat from the urchin’s behaviour, but, when it did not happen
to affect her own personal comfort, she took his part against the
complaints of others, stood up for him when the Baron found fault, and
scarcely ever endeavoured to check him in his mischievous and tormenting
ways.
Thus did Martha find that she had brought a plague upon herself without
really securing her revenge, and that the only person who had been
punished was the innocent child against whom she had borne no grudge.
This was by no means a pleasant reflection, and in some natures would
have produced a repentance for the evil done, and a sincere desire to
undo it if possible. I regret to be obliged to state that this was by no
means the case with Martha. On the contrary, her desire for revenge was
unappeased, and the more she discovered that she had failed, the more
she resolved that she would, somehow or other, ultimately succeed. With
this view, therefore, she once more sought the river side, and summoned
to her aid her former friend the water-demon.
As there was nothing attractive in her appearance, or delightful in her
society, the demon, who knew moreover {075}that his hold upon her was
sufficiently secure to make it a matter of indifference to him whether
she committed any more crimes or not, did not come until she had adjured
him by many entreaties and employed all the incantations of which
she was the mistress. When at last he appeared, he treated her with
contemptuous coldness, and derided her complaints that she had not
enjoyed her promised revenge. In fact he told her, in so many words,
that he had fulfilled his part of the bargain, and that she had no
business to trouble him any more.
Most people would have taken this for a final answer, but Martha was not
disposed to be put off after such a fashion. She told the demon that she
was quite ready to own that he had done what he had promised, although
the result had not been so satisfactory as she had been led to expect.
She had, however, another plan, in which she required his assistance,
and put it plainly to him, as a well-bred devil, whether he could refuse
a lady under the peculiar circumstances of the case. Besides, she said,
there would be crime committed by other persons, and possibly misery
to many, if her plan could be carried out, and these should be powerful
inducements to any right-minded demon, who understood the interests of
his class, to render his willing and active assistance.
Her plan, then, was to stir up the neighbouring peasants and shepherds
to revolt against the Baron. By constantly dinning into their ears
stories of the lazy and useless life he led, and the abominable temper
and tyranny of the Baroness, Martha had little doubt that a spirit of
disaffection might be excited among these ignorant {076}people which she
would eventually be able to turn to good account. If she could induce
them to rise against the Baron, and suddenly attack the castle, she
would take good care that the Baroness should not escape; and even if
the movement was not successful, she would be able in the confusion to
wreak her revenge, by dagger or poison, upon her hated mistress. Such an
attempt, in any case, could not fail to be productive of much evil and
discomfort to one side or the other, and must, therefore, be a scheme
which should at once recommend itself to the individual whom she was
addressing.
The demon listened with attention to Martha’s speech, and at its
conclusion warmly complimented her upon the fertility of her brain,
and expressed his candid opinion that she deserved to have been a demon
herself. He owned that he felt bound, as a gentleman and a devil, to
give her every assistance in his power, and asked her several questions
as to the manner in which she thought he could be of most use in
furthering her views. The waiting-maid replied that her only fear was
as to her being able to persuade the people to take her advice and
rise against the Baron. The old feudal principle still lurked in their
breasts, and although they were certainly poor they were tolerably
honest, and having been generally treated with kindness by the
inhabitants of the castle, might possibly be weak enough to entertain
towards them sentiments of affection and gratitude.
The demon, however, who knew better than Martha how little of either of
these feelings exists in the heart of man, smiled a contemptuous smile
at her ignorance of human nature, and told her that she need feel no
uneasiness {077}upon the point. He added, however, that as she doubted
her persuasive powers, he would give her such valuable aid as would
materially improve her chances of success. He would forthwith speak to
two highly respectable wehr-wolves of his acquaintance, who would be
ready, for his sake, to accompany her whenever she went out among the
peasants. By following her closely, these animals would add to the
estimation in which the ignorant rustics would hold her, and although
they would not speak when she was in the company of other mortals, they
would give her many private hints which she would find immeasurably
useful in persuading those with whom she would have to do.
Much gratified by this assurance, Martha wended her way homewards in
better spirits than she had enjoyed for some time past, and was even
able to smile contemptuously when she found that the young Baron had
taken the opportunity of her absence to put a hedgehog in her bed, and
empty a bottle of castor oil into her best Sunday boots. She lost no
time in commencing operations, and almost every afternoon walked out
into the country to spread disaffection among the people.
At first, it is true, she was rather frightened at the appearance of the
wehr-wolves, whom the demon had been as good as his word in sending to
meet her. They always waited for her at the corner of a neighbouring
wood, and accompanied her to the cottages of the peasants. After a short
time she began to hold small meetings of the latter, at which she held
forth concerning the wrongs they suffered at the hands of the Baron: how
shameful it was that _he_ should be so rich and _they_ so poor, and how
one man was just as good as another.
She {078}always took care to wind up by attributing much of their
particular miseries to the bad influence of the Baroness, whom she
denounced as an upholder of everything bad, a cruel tyrant in her
household, and altogether a monster of iniquity. As she lectured in this
way, one of the wehr-wolves generally sat just behind her and the other
at the other end of the room, and the presence of these animals made a
vast impression upon the ignorant peasants. In this manner, little by
little, the wicked Martha obtained considerable influence over the poor
people, who became gradually more and more moody and discontented, until
at last they really came to look upon the Baron as a hateful tyrant, and
regarded the Baroness as a monster in human form.
While all these things were going on, you must not suppose, Brother
Thames, that evil was allowed to enjoy an uninterrupted triumph in
Rhineland. I am glad to be able to say that such has never been the
case for long; and that although my stream has always been more or
less troubled by demons, imps, devilets, and water-rats {079}(which are
nearly as bad), it has never been without a redeeming element in the
shape of good fairies, nymphs, and an occasional stray mermaid, come up
from the sea for change of air and scenery. These creatures have, from
time to time, performed many acts of kindness to mankind, and when the
powers of evil have proved too strong for them for a time, they have now
and then requested me to interfere.
In the present instance a strong deputation of nymphs waited upon me,
and brought before me a particular part of the case which I am now about
to enter upon. Among those persons who were most greatly plagued by the
false heir, were his three supposed sisters, the elder children of the
Baron and Baroness von Bandelboots. These young ladies were endowed
with considerable personal attractions, and were girls of whom a brother
might well have been proud. Dora, Bertha, and Elladine were the names of
the three, and up to the time of the changing of the children they
had lived lives as happy and contented as was compatible with the
ever-varying temper of their worthy mother. They were quite young,
indeed, when the event occurred which so destroyed the comfort of the
Bandelboots household, and at the time at which I have now arrived in my
narration were just budding into womanhood, three as fair flowers as you
would wish to see. Their young devilet of a brother, or rather he who
was supposed to be their brother, contrived to make their existence
perfectly miserable; and as the Baroness invariably took his part
against them, their lives at last became positively unendurable.
It was not only that a chignon was constantly hidden or {080}stolen just
when it was wanted, stays were mysteriously cut, gloves spoiled, best
bonnets crammed up the chimney, and best boots deposited in the bath.