River Legends; Or, Father Thames and Father Rhine
to the people (and this the Druids would be the last to deny), he had
nullified all his claims to their gratitude by the commission of an
offence which struck a deep blow at the very root of that religion which
was the sole basis of their social order, and their only hope alike for
the present and the future. He had ventured to speak of love to the holy
Druidess Bertha, and there was every reason to believe that they were
privately married!”
At {049}these words a thrill of horror ran through the crowd, who had
been taught to believe a Druidess to be a species of being superior to
the ordinary feelings of mortals, and one to whom marriage should have
been an entire impossibility. They dared offer no further opposition
to the Druids, and were about to suffer their gallant defender and
deliverer to be dragged away to a cruel death without further effort
to save him. But all was not over yet. Smith had allies of whom his
cowardly followers and his bigoted persecutors were alike ignorant.
With a mighty effort he shook off the priests who held him, and in a
stentorian voice shouted aloud the words of magic token, “Help, oh,
my Toddlekins!” Scarce were the words out of his mouth when a toad
of extraordinary size hopped from the forest into the open space, and
looked around with eyes that sparkled with angry indignation. At the
sight of him the Druids felt their hearts fail; their arms dropped by
their sides, their weapons fell from their hands, and they lacked alike
the will and the power to harm their intended victim.
Meanwhile the toad who had been adjured under the name of Toddlekins
gave a jerk with his legs right and left, shook off his toad-skin,
and appeared in the shape of a young man of singularly prepossessing
appearance. His form was tall and manly, his beautifully shaped head
was covered with dark hair, and the remarkably sweet expression of his
countenance was enhanced by the extraordinary beauty and brightness of
his eyes. Looking about him right and left, and waving his hand in a
careless manner, he addressed the people as follows: “My friends,” he
said, “you will excuse me for making the remark that you are a set of
very particular {050}fools. In order to convince you that I have a right
to say this, I will tell you with plain brevity who and what _I_ am. I
was born, never mind when or where, into this world, and being found in
all respects much too good for it, the Fates decided that I should
wait for a certain number of centuries before I again came into it as a
mortal, and should meanwhile pass my time as a powerful fairy. As such
I have lived in Toadland for some time past, and have especially watched
over the education of my friend Smith. That is all I shall tell you
about myself, except that my power has aided you to achieve your
freedom, and will now prevent you from suffering a crime to be
perpetrated which would disgrace you for ever. But I have something more
to tell you about the person called Smith. He is one for whom I cherish
a particular regard, and you ought to do the same. For has he not
delivered you from your ancient enemy? But he has done more. The very
crime of which he is accused, if crime it be, has been done in _your_
service. He has fulfilled the old proverb, which it was necessary to do
before the Boar’s power could be destroyed. This proverb declared that
the blood of the ‘slayer and the slain’ must be blended together before
the Boar’s reign should cease. Do you ask how this has been done? I will
read you the riddle. The father of the Priestess Bertha was none other
than an old Druid who sacrificed (most improperly) the male parent of my
friend Smith. He had no right to a daughter at all, but of this I will
say nothing except that the holy maiden has possession of the very
spectacles which he always wore on sacrificing days, and which he
bestowed upon her at his death, conveying {051}to her at the same time
the information respecting her birth which I have just given you. Thus,
then, the blood of the slayer and slain have been blended together by
the marriage of the daughter of the former with the son of the latter.
The Boar has consequently been got rid of, and unless you are the most
ungrateful set of varlets that ever breathed, you will tell the Druids
to go home and mind their own business, will celebrate the nuptials of
the happy couple by a jolly good dinner, and break up at the close of
the evening with ‘three cheers for Smith!’”
This speech of the fairy Toddlekins was received with rapturous applause
by every one present, especially the closing allusion to a “jolly good
dinner,” which in every age has had a decided attraction for Englishmen.
The Druids, who were wise in their generation, at once determined not to
risk the loss of their influence by further opposition to that which was
evidently the popular will, and was moreover supported by the powers of
Fairyland. So, determined to make the best of it without further delay,
they pretended to have been entirely convinced by the speech they
had just heard, and not only joined in the cheers which greeted its
conclusion, but volunteered to stand the dinner into the bargain! They
proceeded to do still more; within an incredibly short space of time
they fetched Bertha (who had previously stood no inconsiderable chance
of being sacrificed too), and presented her and Smith together before
the fairy youth for his approving benediction. This, as you may easily
suppose, was freely and kindly given.
I hardly think I need tell you any more. Smith still declined {052}to
reign over the people, and, considering the experience he had had of
their fickle nature, I don’t think he was far wrong. Nor do I deem
him to have erred in his determination to leave that particular
neighbourhood, being under the belief that when holy men have once
intended to sacrifice a fellow, they are never very safe customers for
him afterwards. So the happy couple very soon departed from Windsor,
and I know very little more about them except that their family is not
extinct at the present day, and is by no means likely to become so. I
believe they lived very happily, and I never heard of any unpleasantness
between them. Still I confess that, if I had been Smith, I should have
been afraid to marry a woman who could change a boar into a hedgehog,
lest at any time she should take it into her head to exercise her powers
upon her husband in a manner which might have been inconvenient, to say
the least of it.
I am scarcely in a position to tell you whether the fairy Toddlekins has
ever left Toadland again and come once more upon earth as a mortal.
I might make a guess, Brother Rhine, if I chose, even at _this_, but
perhaps I had better be silent. Many a pleasant youthful face, worthy of
Fairyland, frequents my waters at times, and the old college of Eton
has sent me such over and over again. But if I should single out any
particular face and form, and declare to the astonished world that
therein I recognised the noble fairy Toddlekins of the Druid times, I
don’t suppose anybody would believe me; and even you, Brother Rhine,
might think it possible that I was mistaken. So now I have finished my
legend, and as I see that you {053}have not neglected your flagon
of wine meanwhile, I hope that you have derived therefrom sufficient
inspiration to be able to give me a tale of your own fair country which
shall eclipse in interest the account which I have ventured to give you
of the Great Boar of Windsor!
As soon as Father Thames had thus concluded his story, his companion
clapped his hands in an approving manner. “That,” he remarked, “is a
capital legend, and ends, as a legend should, in a comfortable manner. I
have many curious tales of my own river, but none, I think, more curious
than the one you have related. However, as it is now my turn, I will do
my best, and, with your good leave, will tell you the famous story of
‘Martha’s Vengeance.’”
Father Thames having gravely bowed approval, the monarch of the Rhine
thus proceeded:--
MARTHA’S VENGEANCE
The Baroness Von Bandelboots was a woman of an awful temper. Her husband
trembled before her, her servants hardly felt that their souls were
their own when she spoke, the vassals of the Bandelboots estates
shivered in their shoes when they met her, and the neighbours all kept
out of her way as much as possible. And yet there was no reason why this
lady should have been so violent and have made herself and others so
miserable! You would have thought she had everything to content her. The
husband, good easy man, let her do just as she liked, and cared nothing
for her indulgence {054}of all her whims and fancies, so long as he was
secure of his favourite pipe and his comfortable armchair after dinner.
She had several daughters of various ages who had never caused her a
moment’s uneasiness, and after some years of anxious expectation a son
had been bom who would in due course of time succeed to the honours
of the family, and who meanwhile was, naturally enough, the legitimate
object of her maternal devotion. Moreover, the Baroness lacked not
riches. Not only were the estates of the Baron large and productive
around his castle on the Rhine, but he had other distant property which
brought him in no inconsiderable revenue, and he readily gave to his
beloved wife control over wealth sufficient to have contented the most
extravagant of females. Besides this, she had a house which was really
charming, built upon an island in the middle of a lake, only a short
distance from my beloved river, and furnished with everything that
good taste could support and a full purse supply. Nor was she without
neighbours, even in a country wherein neighbours are generally scarce.
Several other castles stood within driving distance of the Bandelboots
domain, and the Baroness could with very little exertion procure for
herself society, if society she desired.
Nevertheless the good dame’s temper was a curse to herself and everybody
she came near, and she seemed to delight in scolding for scolding’s
sake. This unfortunate propensity had been productive of much discomfort
and inconvenience to the Baron’s household, even before the particular
events which I am about to relate. Several old and valuable servants had
left, either having been {055}dismissed by the Baroness in moments of
passion, or having found themselves unable to stay consistently with
their self-respect, after having been subjected to the strong language
which she frequently used upon such occasions, which was, I am sorry to
say, more than once followed by personal violence.
One servant she had indeed retained for several years, and this was
her own maid, Martha Scweinvolt. This woman was one of a singularly
unprepossessing appearance, and of a certain age. Her nose was long
and somewhat like a hook, her forehead receded in a strange angle
immediately above her eyebrows, her ears were remarkably large and low
down on her head, her chin protruded, her neck was of unnatural length,
her hands and feet larger than those of ordinary women, and her figure
tall, lank, and ungainly. To such a person did the Baroness entrust the
care of her wardrobe and the adorning of her noble self; and although
she frequently indulged her with a good scolding, the maid received it
all with stolid indifference, perhaps because, as her vinegar aspect
seemed to denote, she herself could be cross upon occasions, and thought
it not unreasonable that her mistress should be the same.
One day it chanced, indeed, that the kettle, so to speak, boiled over.
Martha Scweinvolt had been engaged upon her mistress’s back hair, and
the latter, seated in “demi-toilette” upon a low stool, had been reading
a novel. Suddenly she took it into her head to drop the book and take