Wood Magic: A Fable
orchard (by special permission of Kapchack, as you know), is not here.
The pampered fawning wretch!--I hate such favourites--they disgrace a
court. Why, all the rest of our family are driven forth like rogues, and
are not permitted to come near! If the tyrant kills his children in his
wanton freaks even then this minion remains loyal: despicable being! But
now without further delay let us ask the owl to state the case plainly,
so that we can all understand what we are talking about."
"Hear, hear," said Tchink.
"I agree too," said the wood-pigeon.
"I too," said the dove.
"It is no use waiting for Tchack-tchack," said the hawk.
"Hum! haw! caw!" said the rook, "I do not know about that."
"Let us go on to business," said the stoat, "the weasel knows no more
than we do. His reputation is much greater than he deserves."
"I have heard the same thing," said the fox. "Indeed I think so myself."
"I am sure the owl will put the case quite fairly," said the mouse, much
pleased that the owl had saved him from carrying the message to the
weasel.
"_We_ are all waiting, Owl," said Tchink.
"_We_, indeed," said the hawk, very sharply.
"Hush! hush!" said the squirrel. "This is a privileged place, gentlemen;
no personal remarks, if you please."
"I think, think, the owl is very stupid not to begin," said the
chaffinch.
"If you please," said the fox, bowing most politely to the owl, "we are
listening."
"Well then, gentlemen, since you all wish it," said the owl, ruffling
out his frills and swelling up his feathers, "since you all wish it, I
will endeavour to put the case as plainly as possible, and in as few
words as I can. You must understand, gentlemen, indeed you all
understand already, that from time immemorial, ever since the oak bore
acorns, and the bramble blackberries, it has been the established custom
for each particular bird and each particular animal to fall in love
with, and to marry some other bird or animal of the same kind.
"To explain more fully, so that there cannot by any possibility be the
least chance of any one mistaking my meaning, I should illustrate the
position in this way, that it has always been the invariable custom for
owls to marry owls; for crows to marry crows; for rooks to fall in love
with rooks; for wood-pigeons to woo wood-pigeons; doves to love doves;
missel-thrushes to court lady missel-thrushes; jackdaws, jackdaws;
hawks, hawks; rats, rats; foxes, foxes; stoats, stoats; weasels,
weasels; squirrels, squirrels; for jays to marry jays ('Just so,'
screamed the jay); and magpies to marry magpies."
"And chaffinches to kiss chaffinches," added Tchink, determined not to
be left out.
"This custom," continued the owl, "has now existed so long, that upon
looking into the archives of my house, and turning over the dusty
records, not without inconvenience to myself, I can't discover one
single instance of a departure from it since history began. There is no
record, gentlemen, of any such event having taken place. I may say,
without fear of contradiction, that no precedent exists. We may,
therefore, regard it as a fixed principle of common law, from which no
departure can be legal, without the special and express sanction of all
the nation, or of its representatives assembled. We may even go further,
and hazard the opinion, not without some authority, that even with such
sanction, such departure from constitutional usage could not be
sustained were an appeal to be lodged.
"Even the high court of representatives of all the nation, assembled in
the fulness of their power, could not legalise what is in itself and of
its own nature illegal. Customs of this kind, which are founded upon the
innate sense and feeling of every individual, cannot, in short, be
abolished by Act of Parliament. Upon this all the authorities I have
consulted are perfectly agreed. What has grown up during the process of
so many generations, cannot be now put on one side. This, gentlemen, is
rather an abstruse part of the question, being one which recommends
itself for consideration to the purely legal intellect. It is a matter,
too, of high state policy which rises above the knowledge of the common
herd. We may take it for granted, and pass on from the general to the
special aspect of this most remarkable case.
"What do we see? We see a proposed alliance between an august magpie and
a beautiful jay. Now we know by experience that what the palace does one
day, the world at large will do to-morrow. It is the instinct of nature
to follow the example of those set so high above us. We may therefore
conclude, without fear of contradiction, that this alliance will be
followed by others equally opposed to tradition. We shall have hundreds
of other equally ill-assorted unions. If it could be confined to this
one instance, a dispensation might doubtless be arranged. I, for one,
should not oppose it. ('I hate you!' shouted the jay.) But no one can
for a moment shut his eye to what must happen. We shall have, as I
before remarked, hundreds of these ill-assorted unions.
"Now I need not enlarge upon the unhappy state of affairs which would
thus be caused: the family jars, the shock to your feelings, the pain
that must be inflicted upon loving hearts. With that I have nothing to
do. It may safely be left to your imagination. But what I, as a
statesman and a lawyer, have to deal with, is the legal, that is the
common-sense view of the situation, and my first question is this: I ask
myself, and I beg you, each of you, to ask yourselves--I ask myself,
What effect would these ill-assorted unions produce upon the inheritance
of property?"
"True-whoo!" said the wood-pigeon.
"Hum! Haw!" said the rook.
"Law-daw!" said Cloctaw.
"Very important, very!" said the fox. "The sacred laws of property
cannot with safety be interfered with."
"No intrusion can be thought of for a moment," said the stoat.
"Most absurd!" said the jay.
"The very point!" said the missel-thrush.
"Very clear, indeed!" said the mouse; "I am sure the rat will echo the
sentiment."
"Every one will agree with you," said Ki Ki, the hawk.
"I think the same," said the chaffinch.
"The question is undoubtedly very important," continued the owl, when
the buzz had subsided, and much pleased at the sensation he had caused.
"You all agree that the question is not one to be lightly decided or
passed over. In order to fully estimate the threatened alteration in our
present system, let us for a moment survey the existing condition of
affairs. I, myself, to begin with, I and my ancestors, for many
generations, have held undisputed possession of this pollard. Not the
slightest flaw has ever been discovered in our title-deeds; and no
claimant has ever arisen. The rook has had, I believe, once or twice
some little difficulty respecting his own particular tenancy, which is
not a freehold; but his townsmen, as a body, possess their trees in
peace. The crow holds an oak; the wood-pigeon has an ash; the
missel-thrush a birch; our respected friend the fox here, has a burrow
which he inherited from a deceased rabbit, and he has also contingent
claims on the witheybed, and other property in the country; the stoat
has a charter of free warren."
"And I have an elm," said Tchink; "let anybody come near it, that's
all."
"The squirrel," continued the owl, "has an acknowledged authority over
this copse; and the jay has three or four firs of his own."
"And St. Paul belongs to me," said Cloctaw, the jackdaw.
"Well, now," said the owl, raising his voice and overpowering the husky
Cloctaw, "about these various properties little or no dispute can take
place; the son succeeds to the father, and the nephew to the uncle.
Occasional litigation, of course, occurs, which I have often had the
pleasure of conducting to an amicable and satisfactory termination. But,
upon the whole, there is very little difficulty; and the principle of
inheritance is accepted by all. Your approval, indeed, has just been
signified in the most unanimous manner. But what shall we see if the
example set by the palace spreads among society? The ash at the present
moment is owned by the wood-pigeon; were the wood-pigeon's heir to marry
the missel-thrush's heiress, just imagine the conflicting claims which
would arise.
"The family would be divided amongst itself; all the relations upon the
paternal side, and the relations upon the maternal side would join the
contest, and peace would be utterly at an end. And so in all other
instances. The crow would no longer have a fee-simple of the oak, the
jackdaw of the steeple, the rook of the elm, the fox of the burrow, or I
of my pollard. We might even see the rook claiming the----But I will not
follow the illustration further, lest I be charged with descending to
personalities. I will only add, in conclusion, that if this ill-fated
union takes place, we must look forward to seeing every home broken up,
our private settlements, our laws of hereditary succession set upon one
side, our property divided among a miscellaneous horde of people, who
will not know their own grandfathers, and our most cherished sentiments
cast to the winds of heaven." With which words the owl concluded, and
was greeted with marks of approval from all parts of the circle.
"We are all very much indebted to the owl," said the fox, "for putting
the true aspect of the case so clearly before us. His learned
discourse--not more learned than lucid--has convinced us all of the
extreme inexpediency of this alliance."
"If this course is persisted in," said the crow, "it can only end, in my
opinion, in a way disastrous to the state. The king cannot decline to
listen to our representations, if we are united."
"Haw!" said the rook; "I'm not so sure of that. Kapchack likes his own
way."
"Kapchack is very self-willed," said the hawk. "It is almost our turn to
have our way once now."
"So I should say," screamed the jay, who could never open his beak
without getting into a temper. "So I should say; Kapchack is a wicked
old----"
"Hush, hush," said the squirrel; "you can't tell who may be listening."
"I don't care," said the jay, ruffling up his feathers; "Kapchack is a
wicked old fellow, and Tchack-tchack is as bad."
"Capital!" said Tchink, the chaffinch; "I like outspoken people. But I
have heard that you (to the jay) are very fond of flirting." At this
there would have been a disturbance, had not the fox interfered.
"We shall never do anything, unless we agree amongst ourselves," he
said. "Now, the question is, are we going to do anything?"
"Yes, that is it," said the missel-thrush, who hated talking, and liked
to be doing; "what is it we are going to do?"
"Something must be done," said the owl, very solemnly.
"Yes; something must be done," said Cloctaw.
"Something must be done," said Ki Ki.
"I think, think so," said Tchink.
"I, too," said the dove.
"Quite true," said the wood-pigeon.
"Something must be done," said the stoat.
"Let us tell Kapchack what we think," said the mouse, getting bold, as
he was not eaten.
"A good idea," said the crow; "a very good idea. We will send the mouse
with a message."
"Dear me! No, no," cried the mouse, terribly frightened; "Kapchack is
awful in a rage--my life would not be worth a minute's purchase. Let the
stoat go."
"Not I," said the stoat; "I have had to suffer enough already, on
account of my relation to that rascal the weasel, whom Kapchack suspects
of designs upon his throne. I will not go."
"Nor I," said the fox; "Kapchack has looked angrily at me for a long
time--he cannot forget my royal descent. Let the hawk go."
"I! I!" said Ki Ki. "Nonsense; Kapchack does not much like me now; he
gave me a hint the other day not to soar too high. I suppose he did not