Alexis Bloggy

Now, as she was about to land, it happened that her foot slipped and she fell into the water, uttering a slight scream. The woodcutter, who was resting from his work, had his eyes fixed on the lake, and perceived with surprise the pigmy princess sailing towards the shore. When, therefore, he heard the scream, small as it was, he rushed down the bank and seized her slight form in his huge hand. The princess, however, was already insensible, but the good man wrung her[218]

clothes dry and kept her in his bosom until she should recover. Now, during her swoon the queen of the fairies appeared to her in a dream, and told her that the woodcutter was the man she was destined to marry and to go at once with him to a cave hard by where lived a holy hermit, whom she had already commissioned to marry them. Then, leaving her a magic wand which changed any object she touched into whatever she pleased, she disappeared, enjoining her to use her own judgement in everything. Upon this she awoke, and found herself still in the woodcutter’s bosom. Now, the woodcutter was a young man of a stature approaching the gigantic, immensely powerful, but very ugly, very clumsy, and very stupid. At the first sight of him the princess recoiled, and could not make up her mind to take him for a husband; but then she thought that the fairies must know best what was for her good, so she reversed the generally received order of etiquette and made him a proposal of marriage. The young man simpered, scratched his head, and looked very sheepish; but having heard the princess’s story, and being assured by her that the fairies had ordained it so, he turned away his head, blushed, and accepted her. Then the princess, finding the magic wand beside her, waved it over her head, and instantly converted the peasant’s ragged clothes into a suit of mail, his axe into a lance, a knife that he wore at his side into a sword;[219]

while the tree that he had just felled, she converted into a magnificent charger. She then bade him mount and place her within his helmet, close to his ear, so that she could give him any instructions that might be necessary without being observed by anyone. Then asking Hans (which was the name of the transformed woodcutter) whether he knew where the hermit lived whom the fairy had mentioned, and receiving an answer in the affirmative, she bade him put spurs to his horse, and in a short time they arrived at the mouth of the cave. The recluse rose to meet the man in armour. “Good day, fair son,” quoth the holy man. “What would’st thou of me?” “Holy father,” said the knight, “I have come to get married.” “And the fair bride?” asked the hermit. “She is with me.” “With thee!

I see her not.” “Here, holy father, here,” cried the princess, emerging from the helmet of Hans. “I am the Princess Bertha, and have been commanded by the fairies in a dream to call at thy cell with my betrothed that we may be joined together in holy matrimony.” “I know it, O illustrious princess,” said the hermit, with deep reverence; “and doubt not that I shall discharge my duty. May it please your royal highness to enter the abode of the humble?” “Dismount!

“ cried Bertha in the ear of her betrothed, suddenly, as if to wake him up, for the simple[220]

youth looked as if he intended to remain on the horse’s back all day. Hans dismounted clumsily, and nearly tripped himself up with his pointed iron toes. “Now, then, tie up the horse to a tree and enter the cave, and don’t look such a fool,” said the princess. Hans entered the cave, and placed himself in front of the rude altar, having unclasped his helmet and deposited his bride on a large stone near. The hermit lit candles, opened the mass-book, and the ceremony began. As the moment for putting on of the ring drew near, a faint and distant music, together with a perfume like incense, seemed to fill the cave. Then followed a bright sunbeam, through which swam troops of fairies. Then the distant sound of trumpets was heard, and the troop made way for the chariot of the fairy queen, who, stepping out of her car of mother-of-pearl and precious stones, and standing upon a cloud of incense, handed Hans the wedding ring, and bestowed a benediction on the happy pair. It was no easy task for Hans’ clumsy fingers to place so small a ring upon so tiny a finger, but at length by the aid of a needle brought to him for the purpose he accomplished the feat, and the marriage ceremony over, the knight and the lady rode off in the same fashion as before. Now, it may be thought by some, perhaps, that these two were ill matched, but that only shows how the whole world may be deceived by appearances, for[221]

they were most admirably mated. It is true they had little in common with each other, but for that very reason in this case, at least, they pulled well together. Bertha was physically weak, but then Hans was strong. Hans was as stupid as an owl, but the princess was as clear sighted as an eagle and as cunning as a fox. Bertha possessed the brains and Hans the brawny arm. Each was a type of those two items which go to make up the most perfect human being-mind and matter. In this case the husband was not the head of the wife, but the wife the head of the husband, and a very clear little head it was, too. The princess was ever concealed in her husband’s helmet, close to his ear, to give him sage councils, which he, as you shall hear farther on, often had occasion to put into practise by his superior physical strength. The world would have chosen for Hans some rough daughter of the soil, as stupid as himself, and as nearly as possible of his own dimensions; but this sort of wife, however well she might have suited Hans in his former contented existence, would never have raised him into the hero that he afterwards became. The humble woodcutter, beneath his rough exterior, had hidden seeds of greatness which were destined to be developed in a new soil. Our knight and his lady did not profess to love each other very much, just because they were married; indeed, how should they upon so short an acquaintance; but that was not[222]

necessary, for love is one thing and marriage another, as all the world knows. Enough, that each had need of the other at present. Now, the first thing to be done was to ride to the city, and for Hans to proclaim the right of the Princess Bertha to the throne; and should any other champion come forward for either of the twin princesses, it was meet that they should do battle for their cause. “Therefore, Hans,” said the princess, “ride quickly to the town, and proclaim my rights. Pass over yonder hill where stands a ruined castle.” “Let us not pass thither, fair princess,” said Hans, “for yon castle is inhabited by a terrible wizard, who has lived here since the reign of your highness’s grandsire, who, you will have heard, rather encouraged these sort of people than otherwise, and whom no power can force to flee the country, for as soon as the king’s guards approach the castle he enchants them into rocks and fir trees.” “Oh, oh!

we will see about that,” said the Princess Bertha. “So this man is a dangerous character. I do not intend to allow any dangerous person when I am queen. Come, we must subdue this man.” “But–” remonstrated Hans. “But me no buts, Sir Shaveling,” quoth the princess, “but do my bidding. Must I lend thee courage as well as wit? Onward, I say.” Hans could ill brook being called a coward, and that, too, by a woman-such a little woman, too-so,[223]

crossing himself, he put spurs to his horse and ascended the hill till he arrived at the gate of the castle. “What do you want?” said the wizard, suddenly making his appearance at the window. “Say,” said the princess in the ear of her husband, “that you have come in the name of the Princess Bertha, our future queen, to bid him flee the country.” Hans cried out in a loud voice as he was instructed by his spouse. The wizard answered with a loud laugh, and descended the staircase. Now, the princess knew that evil charms availed not against good ones, so, touching her husband with her wand, she thus made him proof against any magic power of the wizard. “Wait a bit,” said the magician, descending; “you will be no harder task to manage than the rest have been, I’ll warrant,” and he proceeded to draw a circle on the ground and to mumble a spell. “Enough of this mummery,” said Hans, at the instigation of the princess. “Prepare to leave the country at once, or you die.” “These words to me, you churl!

” cried the wizard, pale with rage. “Dost know who I am?” “I know, and I defy you-both your arms and your spells.” Then the wizard, mortified at finding that his charm failed upon Hans, entered his castle in great wrath, put on his armour, and came forth mounted on a black charger with fiery eyes, and ran at Hans furiously with[224]

his lance, but the lance was shivered into splinters against the magical armour of Hans. The wizard then seized his two-handed sword, and Hans seizing his, a terrific combat ensued. At length Hans smote off the wizard’s head at a blow, and the bleeding carcase dropped from the saddle. At the death of the wizard his fiery charger was instantly changed into a fir tree, and his castle into a rock. “On this spot,” said Bertha, “I will erect my palace,” and waving her wand over the rock, a magnificent palace arose where had stood the ruined castle of the wizard, made of gold, silver and precious stones, with windows, each pane of which was a sheet of diamond. Hans had hardly recovered his surprise at his unexpected victory over the wizard, when he turned his head and observed the magnificent palace that the princess had magically erected. He stood aghast, with his eyes and his mouth wide open, and seemed beside himself with amazement. “Onward, you fool; don’t stand gaping there; onward towards the town.” Hans clapped spurs to his horse, and halted not until he arrived at the gate of the city. Then entering, he stood in the middle of a large square where there was a great crowd of people, and receiving instructions from the princess, called out to the populace:

“I proclaim the Princess Bertha the rightful heiress to the crown. Whoever would depose[225]

her and set another on the throne in her stead, let him come forth and do battle.” Then some of the crowd cried out, “The Princess Bertha is dead; we have seen her funeral. Who art thou, that speakest so boldly?” “I am the champion of the Princess Bertha, eldest daughter of the late king, and whosoever says that she is dead, lies.” So saying, he lifted his tiny spouse from his helmet with finger and thumb, and showed her to the people. Then a great commotion arose. There were some among them who recognised the princess, and admitted her right to the throne. Others said nay; that it was a puppet, and voted for the Princess Clothilde. Others, again, shouted for the Princess Carlotta. Presently the two first champions appeared who had fought together-one for Clothilde, and the other for Carlotta, and they both called out, “We ignore your Princess Bertha, for it is well known that she is dead. In vain you exhibit your dwarf or puppet, for we have seen her funeral.” “Then,” said Hans, at the dictation of Bertha, “it is false; the body was never found, but one of her intriguing sisters, anxious to usurp the crown, gave out to her followers that she had found the body, and ordered a mock funeral.” “Thou liest, thou liest!

” shouted the two knights, both at once. “Let it be put to the proof,” said Hans. “Let the[226]

coffin be disinterred, and if the body be found therein I will lose my head on the spot where I stand; but if the body of the princess be not found therein, then shall ye, the champions of the two usurpers, lose your heads.” “It would be sacrilege to disturb the dead,” said the knights. “We cannot agree to the proposition.” But the people called out, “It is well said; ’tis a fair trial.” The two knights began to remonstrate, but their voices were drowned by the herd, who wished the matter settled by the disinterment of the body. When the commotion had ceased a little Hans lifted up his voice, and said to the multitude, being instructed, as usual, by his spouse, “It is the pleasure of the Princess Bertha, whom you now see before you, that she be taken instantly to the presence of the arch-priest of this city, who has known her well from infancy, and who baptised her. He, as you all know, citizens, is a man of good repute. Should he recognise the Princess Bertha, let her have her rights; but if he says it is another like to her, let the coffin of the supposed defunct be opened publicly, that all may be satisfied.” “Sacrilege, sacrilege!

” cried the knights. “No, no!

” cried the populace; “the stranger knight has well said. It is most fair. To the arch-priest, to the arch-priest!

” The crowd made room for Hans, and conducted him to the palace of the arch-priest. When the good[227]

man saw this great crowd in front of his palace he came out to demand the reason, and was informed that the Princess Bertha, whom all believed to be dead, had returned to the city with a champion who was ready to maintain her right to the crown, provided that the arch-priest himself, who knew her well, should testify to her identity. “Show me this champion,” said the priest. Hans then rode up, and holding in his hand the diminutive princess, placed her in the hands of the arch-priest. The crowd pressed hard together while the aged priest took out his spectacles and examined the tender form minutely. “In good sooth,” he exclaimed, “it is the Princess Bertha and none other. My fair princess, what treachery has been at work to deprive thee of thy rights?” “You know me then, holy father?” “Know thee, daughter,” quoth the old man, tenderly. “Methinks it were difficult to make a mistake.” “You hear then, O people,” cried the little princess, straining her feeble voice to its utmost pitch, till it resembled the squeaking of a fife; “you hear that the venerable arch-priest has recognised me.” “Ay, ay, your royal highness; long life to you, and welcome to the throne!

” cried the populace. Then a great cheering arose. “Long live the Princess Bertha, our rightful queen!

” But some of the faction for the Princess Clothilde[228]

called out, “It is false; she is dead and buried, we will not be imposed upon by this man and his dwarf.” “The arch-priest recognises her,” cried others. “The arch-priest dotes; he is mistaken,” cried they for the Princess Clothilde. “Let the coffin of the princess be exhumed!

” cried the crowd, and they appealed to the priest, who consented that the coffin should be opened in the presence of all the people. “Where is the undertaker?” cried one of the crowd. “Here!

” cried a voice. “Let him come forward.” Then the crowd made room for the undertaker, and one amongst them asked him if he had placed the late princess in the coffin with his own hands. He replied in the negative. “Who closed the coffin, then?” asked the former questioner. “The Princess Clothilde herself,” answered the undertaker. “That seems suspicious,” said another; “she also is said to have found the body, which she concealed in her cloak and allowed nobody to see.” “Because,” answered one of the faction, for Clothilde, “because the body, being already in an advanced state of decay, she was unwilling to make a disgusting exhibition of the remains of her sister, who she so dearly loved. We are witnesses of her emotion upon finding her sister’s body.”[229]

“It is false,” cried Hans; “the Princess Clothilde is a hypocrite and an usurper, and has plotted to obtain the crown for herself.” “Treason, treason!

” cried the faction for Clothilde. But those in favour of the Princess Bertha applauded the words of Hans, and cried out, “We shall see if the remains be in the coffin.” After waiting some little time longer, the coffin was exhumed and given into the hands of the arch-priest, who, standing upon the balcony of his palace, opened the coffin with his penknife in the presence of all the crowd, and found therein nothing but cinders, which he emptied into the street below. “I hope now, citizens, you are convinced that foul play is at the bottom of it all,” said the old priest. “Ay,” cried the crowd, “most vile treachery-down with the Princess Clothilde; we will have none to reign over us but the Princess Bertha.” “Stay a moment,” shouted the champion for the Princess Clothilde. “What was there in the coffin if not the body of the Princess Bertha?” “Nothing but dust and ashes,” answered the arch-priest. “A sign that decomposition has already taken place,” responded the former. “That is no proof that the princess Bertha was not buried in the coffin.” But the crowd laughed him to scorn, saying that it was scarce a fortnight ago since the princess was missed, and that it was impossible the body should have decomposed so rapidly.[230]

The arch-priest then gave his word of honour to all present that he had found nothing in the coffin but cinders from the grate. One of the crowd below picked up a cinder which had fallen from the coffin, and cried out, “The holy father speaks the truth, for the coffin contained nothing but cinders of burnt wood.” Then the champion for the Princess Clothilde, fearing that all were siding with Bertha, called out in a loud voice, “Long live the Princess Clothilde!

” But the crowd hissed, and showed signs of disapprobation. Then the other champion for her twin sister called out, “Long live the Princess Carlotta!

” but he, too, was hissed. Then spake out Hans. “Whoever objects to the Princess Bertha being queen, let him do battle with me.” Hans then threw down his gauntlet, which was immediately picked up by Clothilde’s champion. Our little princess took refuge once more in her husband’s helmet, and whispered in his ear to keep his lance steadily directed towards the breast of his foe, and then, touching him with the wand again, she rendered him proof against all mortal harm. The adversaries charged together, and so violent was the shock with which Hans came upon his foe, and so accurately did he direct his lance, that the deadly weapon pierced through the massive breast plate of his enemy and came out at his back.[231]

Hans, whose natural strength was terrific, and which was increased ten-fold by the magical touch he had received from his spouse, whirled the dead champion at the point of his lance two or three times round his head, and then flung the body to an incredible distance over the heads of the crowd. The champion of the Princess Carlotta, seeing the fate of the other champion, would fain have drawn back, for he thought Hans could be none other than the foul fiend himself. But the crowd cried out to him, “Thou, too, votest for the Princess Carlotta.” “Ay,” he was constrained to say. “Do battle for her, then,” said Hans. Carlotta’s champion sullenly laid his lance in rest, and aimed at a portion of Hans’ vast body which seemed least protected; but the point of his lance got entangled in the shirt of mail that Hans wore beneath his plate armour without doing further injury to him, while Hans’ lance pierced through the left eye of his foe, and passing through the back of his skull, helmet and all, pinned him to the ground, whilst his horse galloped off through the crowd. Now, the news of the return of their sister and the defeat of their champions soon reached the ears of the twin princesses, who knew not how to contain their rage; but the Princess Clothilde, the more wily and wicked of the two, bribed her followers with large sums of money to feign to vote for the Princess Bertha, and[232]

thus make friends with this stranger knight, and invite him into their houses, to offer him a cup of wine after the fatigue of the combat, which, when unobserved, she commanded them to drug, and as soon as he was insensible he was to be carried off to prison and loaded with chains, care being taken to secure the Princess Bertha at the same time. Hereupon all those who had formerly voted for the Princess Clothilde commenced to shout, “Long live the Princess Bertha!

” But the little princess, suspecting treachery-for she recognised the faces of the men who now shouted for her as being the same as before shouted for her sister-warned her spouse not to receive any man’s hospitality but the arch-priest’s, telling him that if he disobeyed her command it might cost him his life. Hans promised to obey, but when he saw so many well-dressed gentlemen of the court come forward to offer him their congratulations and invite him so cordially to their houses, being very simple and unsuspicious, he forgot the warning of his spouse, though she did all in her power by pinching and biting him to make him remember, and he accepted the invitation of a certain lord, imagining his spouse’s vehement urging to be nothing more than the bite of a flea. “Fool!

” cried the princess, “you will ruin both yourself and me;” but Hans paid no attention, for he was hungry and thirsty. The great lord who had invited Hans to his mansion[233]

possessed all the polished manners of a courtier, though he had a very black heart, and easily working himself into Hans’ affections, he locked his arm within the arm of Hans, and led him to his home. “May I also have the honour of entertaining Her Royal Highness the Princess Bertha?” asked the nobleman. “Oh, yes,” said Hans in his simple manner; “she is inside my helmet. I’ll bring her, too. You see, she being small and I being large, it is the only way we can discourse together.” “Ha!

ha!

” laughed the nobleman; “an original idea. By all means let me have the honour of entertaining my princess.” Hans was charmed at the affable manners of the nobleman, and arrived at the mansion, took a seat at the lord’s table, where he was introduced to other men of high rank, who all congratulated him on his prowess, and expressed their delight at having made his acquaintance. A meal was speedily prepared, and wine handed round. “Drink not,” whispered the princess. But Hans, deaf to all counsel in the presence of so many genial companions, accepted glass after glass, until he was in a state bordering on intoxication. Now, Hans was a good man, and a true, but he had one small failing, which was an inclination to tipple.[234]

He could never refuse a good glass of wine when he was among boon companions. He had also a most ravenous appetite, and afforded the other guests much amusement by the clownish manner in which he devoured his food, as well as by his brutal stupidity and broad peasant’s brogue. When the wine had loosened his tongue a little he soon informed the nobleman of his former condition, saying he was no knight of the court, but a humble woodcutter, and would take no notice of the signs made to him by the princess to keep quiet (who now, by the by, was seated on the table before him, Hans having unbuckled his helmet) but went on eating and drinking, and chatting and laughing, in a manner ill-suited to his dignity as champion, to say nothing of husband to the princess. The Princess Bertha was treated with the respect due to her rank, and was pressed to partake of something, but she refused, pleading no appetite. When the host observed that the wine had got into Hans’ head, he motioned to some of the guests to engage the princess in conversation while he administered the drug. Then, taking a paper containing a powder from his pocket, he emptied it into a goblet of wine which he offered to Hans. But the princess, who observed this, said to the host, “May it please your lordship to drink first this toast-’to the prosperity of our kingdom.’”[235]

The nobleman looked confused, and stammered out that he hoped that Her Royal Highness would excuse him, as he, a humble individual, could not think of tasting the cup before so illustrious a guest. “Then you refuse to do me this small favour, my lord?” said Bertha. But before the host had time to reply Hans had already grasped the goblet greedily and drained it dry. The effect was not immediate, but after about twenty minutes Hans fell back in his chair in a state of the most perfect insensibility. “I am afraid,” said the host, “that your Royal Highness’s brave champion has partaken a little too freely of the contents of my cellar. It is an accident that is apt to befall the best of us. I am sorry for his state, though I cannot but feel it a compliment to my wine.” The princess answered not save by a look of scorn. Then, fearing that the nobleman would offer to remove her to another room while he procured men to remove the helpless body of her spouse, as well as secure her person, and bring her, in spite of herself, into her sister’s power, who was sure to make away with her secretly, she touched herself with her wand, and instantly she became invisible. The lord searched the chamber in every corner, for his first object was to make himself master of the person of the princess, but failing in finding her, he next began to unbuckle Hans’ armour, and examined every plate[236]

as he stripped him of it in his careful search for the tiny princess. He grew more puzzled than ever at not finding her, and ordered the other lordlings to search the house. This they did for an hour or more without success, when, fearing that Hans might awaken from his trance, he ordered a litter to be brought, upon which he securely bound our champion. The helpless knight was then borne upon the shoulders of four strong men, and carried to the common prison, where he was fettered hand and foot, and left in a dungeon, deep, damp and chilly, being in a state of unconsciousness all the while. The princess, however, though invisible, followed her husband. If she had chosen, she could have rendered him also invisible, and spirited him away out of harm’s reach, but she would not. “No,” she said to herself, “let him reap the fruits of his folly. He will learn better by experience than by my precepts. I will not come forward to help him until the last.” Now, when Hans was left alone in his cell-that is to say, alone save the invisible presence of his spouse-it was already getting late. The effect of the potion was to last for five hours, during the whole of which time-and who knew how much longer-the princess was doomed to breathe the damp air of a dungeon and to wallow in the filth therein, shivering with cold; without a fire, without her supper, and frightened to death lest the large rats that infested the prison should make[237]

their supper off her or her husband; but she recollected the wand. The first thing she wanted was a light, for it was pitch dark, not merely because it was night but because the dungeon was underground. Feeling a stone at her foot, she touched it with her wand, and it became a candle, so brilliant as to light up the whole cell perfectly; but what should she do for a fire? There was no fireplace or stove, no place where the smoke might escape. “With this wand, I shall want for nothing,” she said, and touching the wall of the prison, that part of it was instantly converted into a magnificent fireplace, with a chimney and a most comfortable fire. She proceeded to warm herself, but soon she felt there lacked something. She was hungry, so she touched the ground, and instantly there arose a little table spread with a white tablecloth, and a little chair just big enough for herself. Still, there was nothing on the table as yet, save empty plates, with knives and forks, but at that moment she noticed a great rat gnawing her husband’s toe. She hastened to drive it away, and in doing so touched it with her wand, when it became a roast hare. Then, touching a stone, it became a loaf of bread. A piece of bottle glass that she found on the dungeon floor became a bottle of wine; and finding there were no vegetables, she changed a blue-bottle fly into a dish of spinach; a spider into some turnips, and a handful[238]

of earth from the floor into some salt, after which she proceeded to carve. Having partaken sufficiently of the first course, she changed the remains of the hare into an apple tart, and the vegetables into different sorts of fruit. Thus she obtained all she required. Having finished her supper, the princess waved her wand, and the supper table, with everything on it, chair and all, disappeared through the floor; then, seating herself by the fire, she waited for her spouse to awake. In about three hours her worse half opened his eyes, and stretching his gigantic limbs, gazed about him in stupefied astonishment. “Where am I?” he asked, with a yawn. “Where thou deservest to be,” answered the princess, with severity, drawing herself up to her full height. “A pretty position, I ween, for the queen’s consort-drugged and cast into prison!

Maybe that another time thou wilt pay more attention to my words; but the worst has not come yet. Thou art to be handed over to the malice of my two sisters. Who knows in what manner they may reek their vengeance? If thou escapest with thy life, thou wilt be fortunate. “Prepare, then, for thou hast brought all this on thyself by despising my counsels. What!

is a man like thee to be at the head of the realm? Thou, with thy brutish appetite, thy dense stupidity and deafness to the voice of wisdom? A pretty example to thy subjects,[239]

forsooth!

Or thinkest thou that the strength of thine arm alone will suffice to govern the kingdom? I tell thee, brainless boor, that whatever your besotted notion of a king may be, it is a post that is no easy task to fill, and woe to him who aspires to the title and is not able to discharge the duties belonging to it. “Knowest thou not futurity will judge thy action, that thy name is destined either to honour or disgrace the page of history? That a king must not only be brave, but wise, just, good, merciful, temperate?” “Enough, O royal spouse, most august princess,” answered Hans. “Enough for the present; but tell me first how I came here, and next how to get out again, and for the future I will always listen to thy counsels, though allow me to observe that it was thy will to make a king of me rather than mine own; therefore, if thou hast hit upon the wrong man, methinks the blame is thine. An I had known when I was an humble woodchopper that to be a king I must bear this splitting headache, lie in a dungeon full of rats, to be hanged perhaps on the morrow, besides having to kill so many good hearty fellows just because they happen to differ a little in opinion from your Royal Highness, I should have said, ‘The devil take all the kings and kingdoms in the world; I’ll e’en abide here and chop wood.’” “Hush!

” cried the princess, with asperity, “and offend not our royal ears with such clownish sentiments. It is but natural that thy rude nature should rebel against counsel that is intended for thy good. It is to[240]

be hoped, however, that with time thou mayest be brought to a right view of the great destiny that thou hast to fulfil. “I confess that had I not been specially commanded in a dream by the queen of the fairies to take thee and raise thee to the throne, I should never of myself have chosen so clownish a helpmate.” “Well, for the matter of that,” said Hans, “dreams are things that I don’t often trouble my head about, as I never had one come true in my life. Many is the time I’ve dreamed I had my pocket full of gold, and waking in the morning, devil a groat have I found within it; but maybe it is not so with you princesses, who are a different sort of grain to us poor beggars; and perhaps fairies appear to you in dreams and tell the truth; but whether that is or is not, I know not, being no scholar.” “Well, Hans,” said the princess, “thou art not far wrong in not trusting to every dream, or in believing there are certain privileged individuals to whom dreams are given as a warning, as consolation, or as prediction of good fortune; but thou oughtest no longer to doubt, after what thou hast seen and gone through; that thou thyself since thy nuptials hast been under the protection of the good fairies. “Has not everything gone right so long as thou didst hearken to my voice; and did not thy good luck desert thee solely when thou didst refuse to listen to my warning?”[241]

“Well, wife,” said Hans, “I believe thou art about right; d– me if I’ll ever be such a fool again.” “Hush, sir!

” said his spouse. “No oaths in the presence of royalty, if you please. Such language befits not the mouth of a king.” “Well, well, have it thine own way,” said Hans. “I’ll try to improve, only let me have a little sleep now-I am tired.” “That’s right, husband mine,” said the princess, seeing that her husband was more docile; “I do not quite despair of thee yet. Thou mayest be the right man after all. The fairies know better than I. Sleep, and arise to-morrow a wiser man. Yet another thing thou must bear in mind, however, thou must try to unlearn that horrid peasant’s brogue of thine. Dost hear?” “Ay, that will I, royal spouse,” replied Hans, in a brogue as broad as before. Then, turning on his side, was soon fast asleep. The princess, however, slept not a wink that night; the excitement of the day and the thoughts of what might possibly occur on the morrow kept her wide awake, and thus she remained until the morning, when she was suddenly alarmed by the sound of footsteps, and four men entered. Bertha instantly made herself invisible again. The foremost of these men advancing, and shaking Hans roughly out of his sleep, informed him that it was the pleasure of the princesses that he should be brought instantly before them. Hans started up, and would have been violent, but his chains prevented him.[242]

“Where is the princess?” asked he, looking round him. “What princess?” asked the man. “The Princess Bertha-our future queen, and my lawful wife,” replied Hans. “The Princess Bertha!

” exclaimed one. “Your wife!

” laughed another. “Why, the man’s mad, or else is not quite sober yet,” cried a third. “Stay,” said the fourth; “it is possible he has got the dwarf princess concealed about his person. So much the better, we shall get them both together, and divide the reward between us. Let us search him.” “Ha!

is that so?” said the first. A rigid search was made on the person of Hans, but they found not the princess. “Hold there, ruffians!

” cried Hans. “Ye shall do the princess no harm. Do you hear; for, besides being your rightful queen, she is my wife.” A general laugh ensued. Hans was no less puzzled than the men themselves at her disappearance. “Where can she be?” quoth he. “All last night she was watching beside me, like a true wife, and now–” “Come, the fellow is dreaming still, or else trying to befool us,” cried one of the men, at length. “Let us hasten with him to the princess.” Hans was then conducted into the palace, and led into an amphitheatre, where the late king was wont to[243]

listen to stage plays, singing, recitations, and such like. The theatre was crowded, and in a conspicuous place he noticed the Princess Clothilde and her sister Carlotta. “Welcome, Sir Peasant Knight. Welcome, Sir Woodchopper,” said the princesses, mockingly. “We have heard of your great deeds of yesterday, Sir Knight,” said the Princess Clothilde. “Surely such bravery deserves a reward.” Then, turning to one of the men who accompanied Hans, she added:

“Give the brave knight the reward he merits.” The men had previously been instructed how Hans was to be treated, so one of them proceeded to strip him to the waist, whilst another took from behind a column a cat-o’-nine-tails, with which he belaboured the naked shoulders of our knight with such force that he drew blood at every stroke, while the spectators applauded and the princesses laughed. Hans bore his flogging without wincing, though his back was streaming with blood. The Princess Bertha was with her husband all the while, though invisible. She was touched at the cruel spectacle, and her blood rose in indignation against her sisters, yet she would not yet come forward to assist her husband. He had been in the wrong, and he must take the consequences of his folly. She pitied him from her heart; she admired, too, the fortitude with which he endured[244]

such pain and indignity; but she had his good in view. She knew that, as a child is taught to know better another time by one good flogging, so her husband, who was nothing but a child in mind, must be cured by the same remedy. “The loss of a little blood, as our leeches say, is good for the health occasionally,” remarked Clothilde. “Besides, as your knighthood is well aware, a knight, whose trade it is to shed blood, must not wince if now and then a little of his own is shed.” “How thinkest thou, Sir Knight,” asked Carlotta, “that a back sanglant would look in thine escutcheon?” These, and such like gibes were thrown at Hans, who treated them all with silent contempt. At length Bertha, observing by the countenance of her spouse that he had had enough, thought it high time that the tables should be turned, and the spectators punished for their barbarity, so she whispered thus in her husband’s ear:

– “I am with thee. Now that thou hast suffered the consequences of thy disobedience, take thy revenge upon thine enemies.” So saying, she touched his fetters with her wand, and they snapped. Hans needed not this prompting. Finding himself free, his suppressed wrath having increased his natural strength to that of a Titan, he sprang up the steps of the amphitheatre, and seizing the throat of the Princess[245]

Clothilde with his right hand and that of her sister with his left, he squeezed them with such force, that it was a wonder both were not killed outright. However, they certainly would have been, had not one of the lords, whom Hans recognised as the same false lord who had invited him to his house, and afterwards drugged him, instantly interfered. Hans left go the throats of the princesses, who fell, to all appearances, dead, and who did not recover till long after, and, seizing the sword of the false lord, which he had drawn against him, he snapped it in two across his knee, and threw the pieces into the arena. Then, seizing the lord himself by the collar and by the seat of his hose, he flung him with such violence over the heads of the people, that he fell headforemost after his sword, and his brains were dashed out. Shouts of “Murder!

” and “Treason!

” were heard on all sides. “Seize the miscreant!

” The four men who had led Hans before the princesses came forward, and would have secured him, but Hans, brandishing in one hand a piece of his broken chain of great weight, broke the skull of the foremost, the back of the second, the ribs of the third, and the shins of the fourth. Some few others now attempted to seize Hans, but there was something so terrible in his aspect as he furiously fought his way through the crowd, knocking down one with his fist and another with his chain,[246]

that they prudently drew back, and every spectator took refuge in flight before the ungovernable fury of Hans. Then the Princess Bertha, making herself again visible, ordered Hans to carry her to her two sisters, who had just recovered consciousness. Standing upright in the palm of her husband’s hand, she addressed them thus:

“Are ye not ashamed of yourselves to treat a brave knight in this spiteful manner? Mean spirits that ye are; but ye are rightly served. Nor is this all; there is more in store for ye. Your ambitious scheming is seen through, and the good powers protect the right. Ye shall live yet to see me crowned, together with this man, whom I now declare to be my husband. The coronation will take place to-morrow, in spite of all your puny schemes. Farewell!

” The two princesses were so enraged at the words and bearing of their little sister whom they had persecuted, that they knew not what to reply, but turned red and pale by turns, stamped their feet, bit their hands, tore their hair, and screamed. “Let us go to the arch-priest,” said Bertha, to her spouse. “Go just as thou art, half-naked and bleeding. All the world shall know how these princesses treat brave knights.” So saying, the Princess Bertha left the amphitheatre in the hand of her gigantic husband, leaving her two envious sisters behind, foaming with rage.[247]

Hans hastened through the streets, his back covered with weals and streaming with blood, towards the palace of the arch-priest. The people recognised him as the knight who had vanquished the champions of the twin princesses on the day before, and asked him how he came in such plight. Then Hans, being instructed by Bertha, answered thus:

“Good people, you all see in me the champion of the Princess Bertha, who is ready to shed his last drop of blood for her sake; and these wounds that you see have not been inflicted in a fair fight, but by treachery. After I vanquished the two champions of the twin princesses several lords of the court came forward to congratulate me on my success, and invited me into their houses. I, contrary to the orders of our most august princess, whom I now hold before ye (cheers from the populace), and who, more wily than I, suspected treachery, contrary to her orders, I trusted too easily to false appearances, and accepted the hospitality of one of them. He invited me to his house, gave me to eat and to drink, and when I had well eaten and drunk, he drugged my cup, and cast me into a dungeon underground, where I remained all night, and was fetched away this morning, loaded with chains, only to be brought into the presence of the two usurping princesses and flogged before the whole court. “But it pleased the good powers to loosen my chains, and I have given some few of them their[248]

deserts. Follow me, all ye that love justice, and proclaim the right of the Princess Bertha to the crown.” “Long live the Princess Bertha, our rightful queen,” cried the mob. “Prince Hans, our rightful king,” cried the princess. “I here declare in the presence of all men that I am already married to this brave knight!

” Tumultuous cheering ensued this speech of the little princess, and shouts of “Long live King Hans and Queen Bertha” followed them until they arrived at the palace of the arch-priest. Hans knocked at the door. The servant who opened it started back in surprise and horror at the half-naked and bleeding figure of the visitor. “What do you want?” he asked, rudely, as yet not noticing the princess. “I want the arch-priest. Who else did you think I wanted,” responded Hans, equally roughly. “The arch-priest is not at home to everyone,” said the menial, haughtily. “What’s your business?” “Come, let us in immediately, and don’t stand prating there. I am the Princess Bertha,” said the dwarf princess. “I crave your Royal Highness’s pardon,” said the servant, bowing low. “I did not observe you,” and he allowed our pair to enter without further opposition. “What is all this?” exclaimed the arch-priest who came to meet them. “My little princess, with her champion naked and bleeding!

“[249]

“Holy father,” said the princess, “we wish to be crowned to-morrow. See that preparations are made for the occasion.” The arch-priest bowed to the ground. “Your Royal Highness’s will is law. Is there no further obstacle to the coronation?” “None; and if there were, I’d conquer it as I have done the rest. See that my spouse and I are crowned to-morrow in presence of all the people,” said the princess. “Your spouse!

” exclaimed the arch-priest. “I knew nothing of it. He is not what he seems, then-he is of royal blood?” “Royal blood or not, he is my lawful spouse, and he is to be crowned,” said the princess, firmly. “But, my dear princess,” answered the priest, “if he is not of royal blood, how can I?” “Enough,” said Bertha. “I have the warrant of the queen of the fairies that he is to be my partner in life. Here is my certificate of marriage.” And she produced a paper five or six times as big as herself, which she handed to the priest. The priest opened it, and glanced through it. “What!

” he exclaimed. “Then he really is of royal blood. I see. What is this paper enclosed? Ha!

a pedigree.” And he began to read, “Prince Hans Wurst, son of King Blut Wurst, lost in early youth and picked up by a woodcutter, with whom–” “You see,” said the princess, “how the fairies[250]

befriend me. This second paper must have been placed here by their hands, for this is the first time I have set eyes upon it. Are you content with the information therein contained?” asked the Princess Bertha. “Perfectly, your Royal Highness,” said the arch-priest, bowing. “To-morrow, then, it must take place, father,” said the princess. “Without delay,” replied the priest. “But, tell me, what on earth brings His Royal Highness Prince Hans here in this pitiable plight?” Bertha then began to recount the misadventures of her knight and the spite of her envious sisters, the detailing of which filled the poor old priest with horror. “But, at any rate,” said he, at the conclusion of the narrative, “let the prince’s wounds be healed. Send for a surgeon.” “A surgeon!

Bah!

” cried the princess. “Behold, sir priest, what one favoured by the fairies can do,” and thus saying, she touched her husband’s back with her wand, and it instantly healed so that none could see even the slightest scratch. “Gramercy!

” quoth the arch-priest; “I never before beheld such a miracle. Thou art indeed favoured of the higher powers.” “Does that surprise thee, holy father? Behold another wonder,” said Bertha, and she touched the back of Hans a second time with her wand, and instantly her[251]

semi-nude champion was covered from head to foot in an elegant royal dress, composed of a crimson velvet tunic, half-way to the knee, and trimmed with ermine, and silken hose of a buff colour. A gold-hilted sword, in the form of a cross, hung by his side, within a bejewelled scabbard, likewise a dagger. A chain of massive gold about his neck, and a graceful barrette, with a white ostrich feather, which was fastened by a huge diamond. The arch-priest started back several paces, rubbed his eyes, and, looking first at the princess and then at Hans, and then at the princess again, he took her in his hand, and whispered in her ear that he hoped it was not witchcraft, and being assured by Bertha that it was not, he smiled, and congratulated Prince Hans on his improved appearance. Hans, suddenly discovering that he had undergone a change, called for a mirror, and was shown into another chamber, where there stood one large enough for him to look at himself at full length. Our prince began to admire himself, and to cut all sorts of capers, at which the arch-priest laughed heartily; but Bertha reproved her spouse for his levity, and told him such antics did not become a king. The prince immediately ceased his tricks, and taking leave of the arch-priest respectfully, left his palace with his little wife in the breast of his tunic. As he opened the palace door, he saw standing at the gate his own charger, gaily bedizened. The animal[252]

had been sent to await him at the arch-priest’s palace by the fairies. Hans mounted, and proceeded to show himself to everyone through the streets of the city, while the crowd shouted, “Long live King Hans and Queen Bertha!

” Now, Bertha knew her twin sisters too well not to suspect them of treachery up to the very last. “It is certain,” said she to herself, “that they have sent spies after us. They will not rest until Hans, at least, is killed.” Looking round in the crowd, she spied a man whose face pleased her not, and who glanced furtively at Hans. She observed, too, that he carried a long rope with a slip-knot over his arm. Her natural penetration told her that danger would proceed from that quarter, so, touching her husband’s neck with her wand, she said:

“Be as hard as iron and as immovable as a rock.” They rode on together till they came to a large square, when suddenly the man with the rope, watching his opportunity, threw the cord over the heads of the people, so that the slip-knot fixed itself round the throat of Hans, and the man pulled with all his might and main to throttle him and to drag him from his seat; but instead of accomplishing his object, the rope did no more harm to Han’s neck than had it been the trunk of a tree, while the horse and his rider proceeded as before, dragging the man behind after them; nor could he leave go the rope, for the princess had wrought a charm[253]

on him, and thus he was dragged through the city in the sight of all men, hooted and pelted by the crowd as he was dragged along. As for Hans, he felt the rope no more than had it been a spider’s web. The report of the strength of Han’s neck spread throughout all the land, and all declared that that alone was sufficient to qualify him for the crown, accordingly, on the following day great preparations were already made for the coronation, which was to take place in the cathedral of the town. The doors of the church were crammed with the equipages of all the lords and ladies in the land, amongst which were the carriages of the Princesses Clothilde and Carlotta, who had arrived, each with an escort of armed men, to prevent the coronation of their sister, but the mob was so violently in favour of the Princess Bertha, that the escorts were beaten back. The little princess, however, gave orders that her sisters were to be admitted, so the twin princesses took their seats to witness the ceremony. Now, a man had been bribed by them to be close to the person of the prince all the time, and the moment the crown was being placed upon his head to stab him in the back; but Bertha, still suspicious of treachery, looked around her and saw the man, who was just in the act of assassinating her husband, when, waving her wand in time, she converted his dagger into a venomous serpent, which twisted itself round his body, and bit him that he died.[254]

Great was the uproar and surprise at this scene, and the crowd were ready to tear the twin princesses to pieces; but the arch-priest commanded them to forbear, and the ceremony proceeded without opposition. Suddenly a soft music was heard throughout the cathedral, and a perfume as of incense arose. Then a sunbeam from one of the upper windows in the church revealed an innumerable multitude of little fairies, two of which carried a little crown between them, just big enough for the head of the pigmy queen. The multitude was struck with awe and the two sisters filled with fury at the sight; but the ceremony passed off quietly. Nevertheless, the twin princesses, dreading the mob, stepped hastily into their respective carriages, and drove back to the palace. When King Hans and Queen Bertha drove off in their carriage, which, by the way, was made by the fairies themselves for the occasion, the mob was half-blinded by the brilliancy of the jewels with which it was inlaid, and our new sovereigns were cheered by the crowd till they arrived at the palace door. Now, the two princesses, instead of yielding up the palace to the rightful owners, had ordered the door to be barricaded and entrance refused to the royal pair, which, when Bertha discovered, she immediately waved her wand in front of the palace, and changed it into a prison filled with gloomy cells, and the gay clothes of the people within into the squalid garments of prisoners, while the golden bracelets of the princesses became[255]

manacles for their wrists, and their garters fetters for their feet. Then, waving her wand in the direction of the prison in which her husband had been confined, which stood not far off, it became a magnificent palace, equal, if not superior, in grandeur to that which she erected upon the ruins of the wizard’s castle, so that all wondered, and shouted, “Welcome to Queen Bertha, and down with the twin princesses!

” The man who had attempted the life of Prince Hans with his lasso on the day before was publicly hanged with his own rope on the roof of the prison where the two princesses now languished as an example to all rebels. After the wicked princesses had been imprisoned for a week the tiny queen released them on condition that they should flee the country and not show their faces again. The sisters heard their sentence in sullen silence, and quitted the country shortly afterwards, amid the curses of the crowd, and established themselves in a foreign land, where, out of spite, they gave themselves over to witchcraft, and leagued with the queen of the witches, who was also exiled there, to work all sorts of spells upon their sister from afar; but they all failed, as the pigmy queen was too powerfully protected by the fairies. King Hans grew in wisdom every day under the sage counsel of his spouse, till at length his subjects bestowed on him the name of “The wisest and the bravest king living.”[256]

In proportion as Hans’ intelligence and good manners improved, grew the love of Bertha for her husband. They soon knew how to appreciate and respect each other, till at length there was not a more loving couple in the whole world. About a year after King Hans and Queen Bertha had ascended the throne a war broke out between his and a neighbouring country. The latter was the same land where the wicked princesses had fled into exile, and this was to be the seat of war. One day, as the queen was seated in the boudoir of the palace in a pensive attitude, while her husband was putting on his armour, previous to departing for the war, she was startled by a sound of chattering, screeching, and the fluttering of wings. As she was about to ring the bell for the servant to inquire the meaning of this strange noise the door opened, and an ape and crow entered, followed by a large spider, which, making towards the queen and bowing low, cried out, “A boon, a boon!

O gracious queen, according to thy promise.” And immediately the little queen recognised the ape that had escaped with her from the hands of the showman and carried her to the top of a tree, the crow that had carried her down again and left her on the banks of a stream, and the spider that had saved her life by catching her in its web and carrying her safely to the bottom of the precipice, when her cruel sister Clothilde thought to rid herself for ever of her rival by precipitating[257]

her into the lake below. She remembered that she had promised a boon to all three when she came to be queen. “A boon, a boon!

” chattered the monkey. “A boon, a boon!

” screeched the crow. “A boon, a boon!

” whispered the spider, whose voice was less strong than the other two, being an insect. “What boon do ye ask?” demanded her majesty. “Change us to our proper forms again!

” cried all at once. “We have heard that thou possessest a fairy wand. Disenchant us, O queen, and give us back our natural forms.” Queen Bertha then waving her wand over the head of each, they suddenly resumed their respective shapes. The ape and the spider became two handsome youths, while the crow took the form of a comely and dignified matron in the habiliments of a queen. Each of the two youths recognised the other, though after a lapse of many years, as his lost brother, and rushed into each other’s arms. The venerable lady who had hitherto figured as a crow, but who was neither more nor less than a queen herself, recognised in these two youths her long lost sons, and they, in their turn, recognised the late crow as their mother, and fell upon her neck and kissed her. The old queen wept for joy, and knew not how to thank Bertha for what she had done. “O favoured of the fairies!

” pleaded the mother of[258]

the two princes, “think me not bold if I further trespass on thy benevolence and crave another boon.” “Ask, and it is granted,” quoth the smaller queen. “I have yet another son and I know not what has become of him-my eldest boy-also three daughters, whom the queen witch has metamorphosed into a bat, a toad, and an owl. Let me set eyes again on my eldest son, if he, indeed, be living, and, prithee, O gracious queen, disenchant my daughters.” “It shall be done,” responded the pigmy queen, and waving her wand, there immediately flew through the window, which was open, an owl and a bat, the owl bearing in its beak a toad by the leg, which it immediately dropped on entering the royal boudoir, and the three stood in a row before Bertha. “Obnoxious beings,” said the pigmy queen, “resume your respective forms.” So saying, she waved her wand over each, and they were suddenly converted into three beautiful maidens, who immediately recognising their mother and their two brothers, fell into their arms and devoured them with kisses. At the same moment that the three unsightly objects made their appearance at the window the door opened, and in walked-who? Hans, clad in complete armour, and the old queen recognised her lost eldest son. Hans remained stupefied at the group before him; then, when everything was explained, he wept upon his mother’s neck, and embraced his brothers and sisters.[259]

But Hans had little time to lose; his army was about to march, so taking a hasty farewell of his relatives, he placed his diminutive spouse within his helmet, as was his wont, and mounted his charger. His two younger brothers, Otto and Oscar, were determined to follow him to battle, so Queen Bertha changed two black pigs that had strayed into the palace garden, and were uprooting the plants, into two fiery war horses, nobly caparisoned, and the three brothers started for the war, while their mother and three sisters waved their handkerchiefs after them until they were out of sight, and uttered prayers for their safe return. Now, this war had been brought about by the evil spells of the queen witch and Bertha’s two malicious sisters, who, wishing to avenge themselves on their pigmy sister, caused the monarch in whose country they lived to pick a quarrel with King Hans, which should lead to a war, by which they hoped to be the gainers. But Hans and Bertha were in favour with the good fairies, and the luck was, as usual, on their side. The foreign monarch’s city was besieged, and many put to the sword. The king himself, together with the witch queen and the two wicked sisters were taken prisoners. The witch queen was burnt alive publicly, as a punishment for her many sins, and the twin sisters imprisoned for life. Queen Bertha was naturally of a benevolent disposition, and would have pardoned her sisters, but her prudence conquered this feeling, and she deemed it[260]

expedient to put it out of their power to do harm to anyone by shutting them up in prison, where, after languishing for some years, they died still impenitent. After the death of the witch queen the spell which she had wrought upon Bertha while yet unborn was broken, and the pigmy queen took suddenly to growing, and increased each day six inches in height, till she reached the stature of an ordinary full-grown woman. She preserved her surpassing beauty till her death, and lived to bless her husband with a family of twelve children. Hans’ two brothers returned unhurt from battle, and lived with their mother and sisters in the splendid palace that Bertha had raised on the spot where had stood the wizard’s castle. King Hans lived to a good old age, and died a good man and wise monarch. It would be in vain to describe the enthusiasm that prevailed as Helen concluded her fairy tale. Any story that partook at all of the marvellous was sure to meet with thorough appreciation, whoever might be the teller; but when the sunny dreams of fairyland were shaped into words by lips so rosy as those of our host’s daughter, Methuselah himself might have felt his blood boil in his veins. All the old fogies of the club felt their youth suddenly restored to them, and it was all they could do to keep themselves from falling prostrate at the feet of[261]

the fair story-teller. As for our artist, he had lost his heart long ago. Here was a pretty to do!

As for Helen, I’m afraid that she had caught the complaint. What was to be done? Well, never mind at present; perhaps the dart may not have struck very deep. But here comes our host, who, roused by the boisterous cheering of the guests, has come to call away his daughter to her meal. And high time, too, unless he wishes all their heads to be turned by this bewitching enchantress. The eulogiums on Helen’s beauty, manners, and powers for story-telling lasted until dinner time, and such an impression had her story and manner of telling it made upon all, that no one felt inclined either to relate or listen to another, and the club actually retired to rest that evening without a story. [262]

CHAPTER VIII. The Haunted Stage Box.-The Tragedian’s Story. The following morning was bright, clear, and frosty. At an early hour two of our guests were to leave the “Headless Lady” by the mail for London. These two were Captain Toughyarn and our comic friend, Mr. Jollytoast. Each had urgent business on hand, and the other members of the club had risen to see them off. Breakfast had been laid for these two worthies; their companions seated themselves at the same table, and chatted with them whilst waiting for the stage-coach. “Well, captain,” said Mr. Oldstone, “after you return from your next voyage, you’ll visit us again and have another dream over our punch like that last one of yours, won’t you?” “Ay, ay, messmate,” replied the captain; “you may be sure of that. That is to say, if we are all still in the land of the living. I’d come, even if I had no other inducement than the bright eyes of our host’s pretty daughter.” “Avast there!

captain,” said Mr. Jollytoast. “Remember the mermaid!

Think of Lurline!

Take care, lest Helen should prove even more dangerous.”[263]

Just then the horn of the stage-coach was heard in the distance, and in a short time the horses were at the door. Our two travellers took their seats, after having been repeatedly invited to return, and some jovial sallies having passed between our host and the driver over a stiff glass of grog, the coach started, and was soon out of sight. After their two friends had departed the rest of the club set out together for an hour’s stroll before breakfast, to enjoy the fresh morning air, walking all of them abreast, and taking up all the carriage road. The way was long and lonely-not a soul stirring, and the landscape as far as they could see covered with snow; but the sky was cheerful, and the little birds sang overhead. Our club felt exhilarated by the nipping air, and discoursed by the way on divers subjects, until Mr. Oldstone, whose appetite for stories was insatiable, said that he saw no reason why Mr. Blackdeed’s story that was to come next should not enliven their walk. The proposal was seconded, and Mr. Blackdeed, finding himself loudly called upon, began his story thus:

I must begin, then, gentlemen, by informing you that my family name is not the one I bear at present. It is many years since I dropped that. My father was of good family, and possessed a large estate in –shire. I was an only son, and should have inherited my father’s estate, had not a rascally uncle of mine cheated me out of it. I was looked upon as a lad of great promise by my[264]

fond parents, and from earliest youth seemed destined for the stage; for as far back as I can remember my greatest delight was to see a pantomime. I was more precocious than the general run of children at my age, for at an age when few children have begun to read I was already manager of a toy theatre. This taste of mine grew with my growth, and was encouraged by my parents-probably because they saw it was an innocent amusement and kept me out of mischief. At ten years old I began to write plays, in which I used to act myself and invite my schoolfellows to act with me. This rendered me very popular at school, both with the boys and with the masters, and I won many a prize for public speaking and for learning by heart long passages from Shakespeare and other poets. At fourteen I grew ambitious, and published a book of plays under my own name, which, unluckily, was cut up unmercifully by the critics. This was mortifying enough, but added to this I had to bear my father’s displeasure for having published the book under his name, my parent believing it a great disgrace for a son of his to write books or plays. So he gave me a severe reprimand, and from that time forth thought it his duty to discourage my taste for the drama. But nature will have her own way, in spite of whatever obstacles parents, and friends place in her path, and at fifteen I yearned for the mysteries of the “green room.” I had secretly, but no less determinedly, set my[265]

heart on following the stage as a profession, and one day my father took me into his study, and said it was high time I should make up my mind what profession to follow. I replied that I had made up my mind already what profession to follow. I told him that I intended to be an actor. At this he told me to get such ideas out of my head as soon as possible, that he would never allow a son of his to disgrace his name by associating it with the stage. I repeated my determination. He grew furious, and after beating me, locked me up in my room and ordered bread and water to be brought to me by a servant. This treatment, he told me, was to last until I had come to my senses. However well this mode of proceeding might have answered with a youth of less spirit, it did not answer with me. Even an ordinary boy of fifteen is no child, and I at that age was equal to a man of twenty. I felt the indignity of this treatment as an excessively sensitive organisation would. I refused to touch either the bread or the water, and meditated an escape from the paternal roof, never to return. Now, it happened that at that time there was in the village a band of strolling players, who had hired a barn to act in. These I had been in the habit of seeing act every evening, till my passion for the stage was augmented to an intense degree. The players were to leave on the morrow. Here was an opportunity!

I would wait till the evening,[266]

escape by the window of my chamber, and offer my services to the manager. I looked down from my window into the garden, to ascertain if I could venture upon a leap; but it was much too high for me, yet there was a ladder against the wall, though not near enough for me to reach. What was I to do? I tied sundry pocket-handkerchiefs together, which I wetted. I then tied an ornament that served as a paper weight, being rather heavy, and holding one end of the wet handkerchief in my hand, I threw the heavy end towards the ladder, which it caught, winding itself round one of the rungs so tightly that I was enabled to draw it towards me and place it just under my window, ready for the evening. The evening came. I waited till my parents were at supper. This was just about the time that the evening’s performance would be at an end. I donned my worst clothes, and tying up some necessaries in a handkerchief and taking a walking-stick to carry the bundle across my shoulder, I opened my casement and cautiously descended the ladder till I found myself in the garden. There was yet another obstacle to be overcome; the garden wall had to be scaled, for the gate was already locked. The wall was high, but after much exertion and many falls, I scrambled up-I hardly know how-and leapt down the other side into the road. I found that I had ripped up my coat behind and damaged the knees of my small clothes.[267]

In this plight I made my appearance before the manager. He looked at me from head to foot, scrutinisingly; asked me my name and what I had been bred up to. I gave him the name I bear at present, and said that I had never been brought up to any trade, but had always had a taste for the stage. “Humph!

” he muttered, observing that I spoke better English than himself or his company, “you appear a youth of some little education-eh?” “I trust that will not unfit me for your company?” I said. “On the contrary, young man,” he said, “we are in want of educated actors; but what brings you in this pitiful plight?” “The frowns of fortune,” I observed, laconically. “Ah!

” he observed, with a smile; “I understand. Well, what can you do?” “My forte,” I replied, “is high tragedy.” “Ah!

I dare say,” said he, satirically, “and I’ve no doubt you’ll tell me that Macbeth, Hamlet, and Othello are your chief characters.” “Precisely so,” I replied; “that is just what I mean to say.” “I thought so,” he said. “My dear young man, you’re stage-struck like many others at your age. All you youngsters, when you begin, fancy that you are going to leap over the heads of us old experienced actors with a bound; but in everything you must begin at the beginning, and you will have to[268]

serve your apprenticeship at acting as well as anything else.” “Serve my apprenticeship!

” I muttered to myself, indignantly. “I, the son of a gentleman, serve an apprenticeship!

” But I held my peace, as it did not suit me to quarrel with the manager at the onset. “You must content yourself at present with small parts,” said the manager, “such as a page or walking gentleman, or, being yet very youthful looking, you might take a female part.” The latter part of the manager’s speech offended my dignity, but I said nothing. “Come,” said he, “let me see what you can do. Give me your idea of Hamlet. Begin with, ‘To be, or not to be.’” I accordingly began at the well-known passage, and recited it all the way through. “Not so bad, by jingo!

” said he. “Bravo!

I did not think you were such a clever fellow. Now do the dagger scene in Macbeth.” I then went through that with equal success, and received very high praise from the manager, who engaged me on the spot. I gave out a hint that I had eaten nothing all day, and was very hungry, so the manager invited me to supper. I made the acquaintance of all the other strolling players-a queer lot-who looked at me askance, doubtless because they saw I came of a rather better stock than they themselves,[269]

and probably they speculated on what they could make out of me. Early the next morning we all started for London, and my debut was made in a low London theatre, where I took the part of a young lady carried away by brigands. In the next piece I acted a page, in the next a lover, and so on. But I soon grew discontented with this small theatre, for I longed to show myself to the educated public, so I left my first manager, and sought an engagement in some more fashionable theatre. Here I had to act a fairy prince in a pantomime. The pantomime was a great success, and drew many spectators. At the same time that the pantomime was going on, I had to act a page in one of Shakespeare’s plays. I was now seventeen, and both tall and well grown, and possessed at that time-I think I can afford to say so now, gentlemen, as I am verging at present towards “the sear and yellow leaf”-a figure and a face that were the envy of the whole company. Well, gentlemen, I improved fast in my profession, and one evening when the play of Romeo and Juliet was being acted at the theatre, the actor who should have taken the part of Romeo was indisposed only a few minutes before the curtain drew up. There was no one else in the company but myself who was sufficiently up in the part to take his place, so I offered my services, and they were accepted. Now, Romeo was one of my favourite characters, and I had studied the part carefully; but the manager[270]

knew nothing of my talents as yet; in fact, he confessed to me afterwards that he was very doubtful as to the success of the piece that evening. When the curtain drew up and the piece proceeded, I fancied I noticed signs of discontent among the audience at not finding the usual Romeo, but as I went on with my part the applause was so great that I felt as if my reputation were established for life. In fact, I completely eclipsed the actor whose part I had taken, inasmuch that the public refused to hear him again in that part, and the manager allotted his part to me. This led to great jealousy between us. We quarrelled, and I made this the excuse for leaving the theatre, being anxious to appear in a still more fashionable one. I sought an engagement in one of the largest theatres in the metropolis, and as I already had some fame, I was engaged at once. The manager had seen me perform himself, and promised me when Romeo and Juliet should be acted again in his theatre that he would give me the part of Romeo. They happened to be acting Hamlet then; and the part of Laertes was allotted to me. I acquitted myself with much eclat, and a long and favourable criticism appeared in the papers afterwards. One evening I took the part of Hamlet, the usual actor not being able to perform, and acquitted myself so well that the papers were full of the wonderful young actor. From this time my name began to be famous. I received a good salary, dressed fashionably, and[271]

entered into the best society. Nevertheless, I was aware of the prejudice that the world has against an actor, however celebrated he may be, so whenever I went into society, I dropped the name of Blackdeed, and resumed my own rightful one. Many, however, on being introduced to me remarked how much I resembled the celebrated young actor Blackdeed; but it was not for some time afterwards that it was generally known that we were one and the same person. One evening, as I was entering a ball-room, I noticed that when my name was announced some confusion took place. As I entered, who should come forward to meet me but my father, whom I had not seen for three years. He advanced towards me, more in sorrow than in anger, and addressed me in tones in which pride and natural affection strove for the mastery. “We meet at last, sir,” he said; “I leave it to your conscience to imagine the state of anxiety into which you have thrown your poor mother and myself by your cruel conduct. I would fain have overlooked the whole as a boyish freak, had you returned home of your own accord and sought my pardon; as it is, what can I say to you for having disgraced my name?” “Disgraced your name, father!

How?” “Yes, sir; disgraced my name, by associating it with the stage-a name untainted and highly honoured for many generations back.” “Indeed, sir,” I said, “I never yet heard that talent or genius could disgrace a name. However, aware of your[272]

prejudice against the stage, I have dropped your name, which might otherwise have become famous, and act under a fictitious one.” “Humph!

” said he, somewhat pacified that his name had escaped disgrace. “And what may be your theatrical name?” “Blackdeed,” said I. “What!

So you are the celebrated young actor everyone talks so much about,” said he. “Well, well, you have been very foolish and very wrong, but if you consent to leave this life and return home with me, all may yet be well. Come,” he said coaxingly. “Father,” I said, “my course is mapped out. I have chosen my profession, and I must follow my true avocation. The voice of nature is stronger than yours. Seek not to battle against my destiny.” My father, though immensely disappointed at my determination, would not, I believe, have cut me off, but dying suddenly, intestate, his estate was seized by his brother. This led to a law-suit between my uncle and myself, which lasted until nearly all my father’s fortune was squandered away. I never got a farthing. Thus ever since I have had nothing to depend upon but my profession for a livelihood. It now began to be rumoured abroad in society that I was none other than that very Blackdeed whose acting had created such a furore in the world. It also began to be said that I was the heir to an immense fortune, out of which I had been swindled by an[273]

unprincipled uncle. I met those who knew my family well, and my misfortune procured for me the sympathy of many. I possessed a still greater interest in the eyes of the world now, and I found myself a greater lion than ever. On one occasion after I had been acting Romeo at our theatre I donned my dress clothes and dropped in late at a friend’s house where there was a ball, and here I made the acquaintance of a certain family who resided not far from my father’s house and knew my father intimately. The family consisted of an elderly gentleman, his wife, and three daughters. The two elder sisters were very ordinary young ladies, such as one is sure to find in every ball-room. They were neither pretty nor ugly; their manners conventional, their conversation flat and insipid. When talking to one they appeared to be thinking of something else, and their answers were generally in monosyllables. The youngest daughter, however, differed much from her two eldest sisters, both in mind and in features; so much so, indeed, that I imagined for some time that she must be their step-sister, but this was not the case, as I found out afterwards. Maud-that was the name of the younger-was by far the cleverest really of the whole family, and yet she was looked upon as a ninny by the rest. She had more originality in her than either of her two sisters, as I soon observed from her remarks; but she was also more retired, and preferred[274]

to hide her light, as it were, under a bushel. It was only now and then that I could catch a glimpse of it, but when I did so it was most brilliant. Without being strikingly beautiful, her face had that in it that captivates more than mere beauty. The expression was ingenuous and pensive, at times melancholy. When in society she never seemed like one of the herd, or to take the slightest interest in what was going on. She went through her dancing mechanically, and always seemed in the clouds, or, as her sisters would say, “wool-gathering.” It was easy to see from the first that no very sister-like feeling existed between the two elder sisters and their younger one. Even the parents preferred their two elder girls to their youngest daughter. The fact was that they-none of them-understood her; she was not of their order, and they set her down as rather wanting. If she was scolded for anything and she bore the rebuke with patience, this was set down to indifference and want of feeling, when my own experience of her character was that she was the most sensitive creature that I had ever met with. If, as was often the case, she fell into a reverie in company, it was called sulkiness, and if when asked to perform on the piano, she meekly obeyed in a sort of languid manner peculiar to herself, it was called unwillingness to oblige; yet when at the instrument her touch was so soft and full of feeling, her voice so clear and modulating, that it seemed as if her whole soul was poured forth in the piece.[275]

Nevertheless, neither her parents nor her sisters appreciated her playing, or found in it anything more artistic or soul-stirring than in the performance of other people. She was never thanked or applauded by her family for any service or kindness of hers towards them, but often upbraided for selfishness when her dreamy nature would cause her to forget the wants of others, while in reality she was one of the most unselfish beings on this earth. How many mistakes might be rectified, if the different members of a family would take the trouble to study each other more accurately!

Maud’s nature was reserved to a fault; she did not care to shine, and this was put down to incapacity. Whether it was she felt she could if she chose, and in so doing utterly eclipse her two elder sisters, and consequently incur their envy, or whether it was an excess of modesty, I know not. One thing is certain, she possessed fine talents, and those, too, of an uncommon kind. Her health was delicate, and her parents, perhaps attributed her peculiarities to the state of her health, while her two sisters, without allowing any such excuse, looked upon her as a downright fool. She was snubbed on every occasion, and kept as much as possible in the background. It will be understood that all these observations of mine were not made in a single evening. It was not until we grew intimate and I had been repeatedly invited to the house, that I found out how matters stood in the family. I could not help feeling nettled at the deliberate way in which[276]

poor Maud was put on the shelf by her elder sisters, and I felt it my duty, as much as good manners would permit me, to take her part, and pay somewhat more attention to her than to the two elder daughters. This preference I saw was observed, and not looked upon very favourably by the parents, who, I began to find out, had marked me for one of the elder girls. I saw plainly through their schemes, and heartlessly amused myself at their discomfiture while I paid my attentions to Maud. During the summer I was invited to stay at the country seat of this family, and it was here that our intimacy ripened. Here I observed the fine points of Maud’s character, in spite of all her reserve. Without being regularly in love with each other, a sympathy had grown up between us which by others, I have no doubt, was regarded as love. We appreciated each other’s talents, and esteemed each other’s characters. The family had repeatedly seen me act, and Maud, more than any of them, seemed to appreciate my acting, while I was equally charmed at her skill on the piano and on the harp, and with her singing. “I do not know how it is, Mr. Blackdeed,” she said to me one day when we were left alone together in the garden, “but you are the only person I know who treats me with respect, or, indeed, like a rational being.” “Indeed,” said I, feigning not to have observed the way in which she was treated by her family. “How so?”[277]

“Oh!

you know very well how I am treated at home. I have seen the surprise on your face whenever my sisters snubbed me, and saw that you felt how unfair it was. You will not pretend that you never observed it.” “Well, Miss Maud,” I replied, “your penetration is such that I cannot do other than confess that I have observed it, and that I was very much surprised at it. I have often wondered what the reason could be.” She answered with a slight sigh. “No one seems to understand me. From childhood I was ever different from the rest. I seem to live two distinct beings-one with my family, and before the world, and another in my own thoughts. “You will have observed my silence when in company. I am aware to what it is generally attributed; but the fact is, that I have so little in common with my sisters I feel that if I were to give utterance to my ideas I should not be understood, but be considered more mad than they think me at present; hence my silence. I never knew anyone but you who thought even in the slightest degree like myself, and therefore to you I feel less inclined to be reserved than to others; in fact, with you I feel it impossible to be reserved at all. “It is as if you had some power over me to draw out my ideas-to draw me out of myself. All my life I have longed to know someone; to have some friend who was unlike the rest of the world, and more like myself, who could understand me, and to whom I could[278]

pour out my thoughts, and feel that they were not poured out upon a desert soil.” “Do you know, Miss Maud,” said I, “that from the very first I saw that you were quite different to any other young lady that I had ever met with? But far from regarding you in the light that I know your family regard you, I conceived an immense respect for you as a being of a higher order than the generality of young ladies. There was much, too, that puzzled me in your character. I was convinced that you could not but be aware that your abilities were above the ordinary, and it surprised me much that you should care so little about showing them, or even asserting your right against the-the tyranny, if I may say so-of your sisters.” “Well, it is my nature,” she said. “What is it to me if they do have their own way in everything. I do not think it a matter worth disputing about. I do not live in their world, nor they in mine.” “And do you not long to make yourself better understood to your sisters?” I asked, after a pause. “I should like to,” she replied; “but that is impossible.” “Why impossible?” I asked. “Have you ever tried to do so?” “No; but from my knowledge of their characters it would be useless.” She paused, and then added, “Do you know that I sometimes wish that I were better suited to this world than I am? My nature is so very peculiar that perhaps you would laugh at me were I to tell you some of my peculiarities.”[279]

“No,” said I; “I do not think I should laugh at any peculiarities of your nature, whatever they might be. Your nature is one to study gravely and reflect upon, not to laugh at.” “I mean,” said she, “that my temperament is subject to certain phenomena that many, perhaps you, might call hallucinations. I have never confided this to anyone before, fearing that I should be ridiculed or perhaps placed under the hands of some ignorant doctor.” “Indeed!

” I exclaimed. “I am curious to hear of what sort these phenomena are. I take an immense interest in natural phenomena, especially that sort connected with the temperament of individuals.” “Well,” she answered, “as you encourage me so far, I do not mind telling you some of those most common to me. Ofttimes when I am alone, either in my chamber or walking in the fields, a sort of dizziness comes over me, and I seem to be in the midst of a bed of flowers. When I try to pluck one they instantly vanish, and the dizziness likewise disappears. At other times I have seen before me a wreath of stars, which lasts for two or three minutes, then also vanishes. I have seen, too, distinctly in the daytime the faces of certain relations of mine, long since dead, and at night I occasionally start out of my sleep and see human forms bending over me, and sometimes they speak to me.”[280]

“It is very strange,” I observed. “And have you never been able to attribute these visions to any nervous excitement, or to any natural cause whatever?” “No; on the contrary, they generally appear when I am most calm.” I told her I had heard before of similar phenomena during, or even a long time after, a serious illness, and that I thought in most cases they might be attributed to an over-excitement of the brain, brought on by indigestion or other causes. She told me that she had never had any really serious illness in her life, though she admitted that she was constitutionally delicate. We then went into a metaphysical discussion, which was interrupted by the rest of the family, who came to meet us in the garden. “I am sorry we have disturbed your tête-à-tête,” said one of the elder sisters, quizzingly. “It must have been quite a pleasure to have been concealed behind the summer-house and listened to your intellectual conversation.” These words to a stranger would have conveyed nothing but a sort of merry banter, nor was there more conveyed in the tone, yet I, who had studied the nature of the speaker well, thought I discovered an undercurrent of sarcasm in the word “intellectual,” as if she was perfectly sure that no conversation between us could be intellectual. “There is many a true word spoken in jest,” I replied.[281]

“I assure you that our conversation has been most intellectual. Miss Maud’s ideas are so lofty, that it is really quite an effort on my part to follow her,” said I, with a smile, though I really meant what I said. “I wish she would let us have the benefit of them,” said the other sister, laughing, imagining, of course, that I had spoken satirically. “She never favours us with any of those lofty ideas.” “No?” said I, affecting astonishment. “Then I must be a favoured individual. Miss Maud’s case is, however, not without parallel. Many of our greatest minds have been most reserved and unassuming. It is a characteristic of genius to be retired, though, if I had the abilities of Miss Maud, I am sure I should be too vain to keep them secret.” This was uttered with a sincerity of manner on my part that checked the laugh that might have arisen from the sisters, and they were silent. The mother looked at us both, first at one and then at the other, in amazement, as if she half-believed me, and scrutinised Maud very narrowly, as if she fancied she must either be a great fool or very deep. In the course of the afternoon the lady of the house took me aside and asked me if I were in earnest in my eulogium of Maud’s intellect. I replied that I was decidedly. “What a strange girl it is!

” she exclaimed. “She never seems to take any interest in anything or anybody around her. In fact, we none of us can make her out.[282]

What do you think now is the reason of this strange reserve towards her own kindred?” “Well, madam,” I answered, “if I must tell you my real opinion, her nature is an uncommon one, and can only live in the society of other uncommon natures. Her silence I attribute to an excessive sensitiveness, which not rarely accompanies genius, and which proceeds from a consciousness that she is not easily understood.” “But surely, Mr. Blackdeed,” said the lady of the house, “one would expect that she would open her heart to her own flesh and blood, rather than to a comparative stranger like yourself.” “The idiosyncrasies of temperament, madam,” said I, “are difficult to explain. The mere accident of relationship will not necessarily give a similarity of disposition. Occasionally we do find one in a family totally unlike the rest, and therefore misunderstood by them. The reason why Miss Maud takes no interest in what is conventionally termed society is that she feels above it.

said I, aloud;

“your majesty does not wish that your daughter should leave her house and visit my country. Is it not so?” “That is part of the conditions, but not all,” said her majesty. “And what else might your majesty be pleased to exact from me?” I asked. “Well,” she said, with a smile and a second glance at my legs, “we should like you-we expect you to-to-to become in fact, like one of us-to conform–” “Oh, quite so,” I said, without as yet catching her meaning thoroughly;

“to conform-yes-certainly-to all the customs of the country I have adopted.” “To all of them, mind?” “Yes.” “Then you consent to this trifling sacrifice. You have no objection to-to be operated upon?” “Operated upon!” I cried in astonishment. “What?-How?-I don’t quite catch your majesty’s meaning.” “Well, Captain Toughyarn,” said her majesty, “if I must be more explicit, the fact is, that legs are out of fashion here, only tails are worn in this country. If you really wish to marry our daughter, you must submit to an operation.”[151]

“W-h-e-w!” whistled I, the real nature of the sacrifice dawning upon me for the first time. “So that is your meaning!” “Precisely. Do you refuse?” Now, I always prided myself particularly on my legs. In my youth they were the admiration of the sex;

even now they are far from contemptible, and to give them in exchange for a tail was of all things the furthest from my thoughts. I did not know what to answer. At length I asked, “And this operation-how is it performed, your majesty?” “Oh, it is simple enough,” was the reply. “A surgeon is called, who amputates the lower extremities;

a dolphin or other large fish is procured, which, after being killed, is cut in half, and the tail half of the fish is bound to that part of your body still suffering from the operation, until the parts unite, and the transformation is complete.” “I am infinitely obliged to your majesty,” said I, “but I hope you will pardon me if I refuse to comply with this last condition. Legs such as mine are extremely prized in my country;

in fact, they are only to be found in those of the blood royal, and I really could not consent to part with such a very strong mark;

indeed, perhaps, the only mark of royalty about my person.” “Then you refuse?” “Absolutely,” said I, bowing.[152]

“In that case,” said the queen, “I must talk to his majesty, to see what can be done.” The queen rose. I bowed, and left the apartment. Shortly afterwards I heard the king’s voice in great wrath, calling out, “What! he won’t sacrifice his legs? Did you say he won’t? Won’t, indeed! I’ll let him know who the mer-king is. He comes here uninvited, wheedles himself into our daughter’s affections, and then his love is found wanting at the proof. He won’t even give up his hideous legs, and wear a respectable tail for her sake. By my trident, he shall for mine. I’ll tail him. Here, Thomas!” That was the name of the shark that opened the door for us. “What ho! Thomas, bite off that insolent stranger’s legs this instant. Come, make haste, and lose no time about it.” I happened to be looking out of my bedroom window at the time, which was open. At these words I plunged through the casement and struck out upwards. I had not proceeded very far-though in all my life I never struck out as I did then-when I heard the palace door open and the splash of the huge monster behind me. I struck out upwards, upwards, ever upwards, but the immense fish was at my heels with the rapidity of lightning. Truly, I thought my last moment was at hand. With the energy that despair alone gives, I struck out so frantically, that even the shark had hard work to keep up with me, but I was fast getting exhausted.[153]

What should I do when completely so? There seemed no hope for me. “While strength lasts, I’ll use it,” said I, to myself, and struck out more desperately than ever, but the shark gained upon me, nevertheless. At length, after repeated exertions, my head appeared once more above water. Once more I felt the fresh breeze on my bald pate. “Thank heaven!” I cried. There was a vessel in sight, not far off. I hailed her, bawling out with all my might and main, still swimming furiously. The shark was now nearer than ever. He had already turned on his back, preparatory to biting off my legs, and the ship though she had noticed my distress, and was coming fast to my rescue, was not sufficiently near as yet to save me. I felt the tip of the monster’s nose against my shoe. I lunged out a tremendous kick, which ought to have sent several of its teeth down its throat;

at any rate, it sent him backward about a foot. Meanwhile, I struck out more fiercely than ever, but the brute recovered itself and was at me again. My strength was now quite exhausted. How I managed to hold out so long puzzles me now. I was about to sink from sheer exhaustion. In another moment my legs must have been off, had not one of the officers of the ship thrown out a rope, which I clutched eagerly, and being speedily hauled on deck, the monster was baulked of its prey.[154]

Whilst yet dangling in air, before my feet had time to touch the deck, I heard a “bang,” and, looking behind me, to my intense relief, I saw the corpse of my dread foe bobbing up and down in the waves, and staining the water with his blood. “So much for Thomas,” thought I. The sailors were just about to lug it on board, when at this juncture I awoke. Lucky for me that my flight was so precipitate. If she had crossed my path at the last moment I thoroughly believe the very sight of her sweet face would have made me consent to the operation. Poor Lurline! But what is the use of giving way to sensibility, gentlemen? And, as to losing one’s legs, it is bad enough to lose them in an engagement for the honour and glory of one’s country, but to have them bitten off by a shark, or amputated by a mer-surgeon, at the caprice of a mer-king, and a fish’s tail substituted in lieu thereof, is a thing that Toughyarn can’t quite stomach. Supposing me to have been weak enough to have submitted to the operation at the tears and entreaties of Lurline, it becomes a very different matter when my limbs are exacted as a forfeiture, and imperiously demanded by an infuriated parent. Toughyarn may be as weak as a child in the hands of a pretty woman, but he won’t be forced to anything by the greatest tyrant that ever existed. [155]

“Bravo, Toughyarn!” cried all the company, with one voice. This enthusiasm was as much in praise of the sentiment that the captain had wound up with as for the story itself. “I knew the captain wouldn’t be beaten in a yarn by the best of us,” said Hardcase, “although he did find mine rather difficult to swallow.” Cheers and rattling of glasses followed, and the captain’s health was drunk with due honours, after which the chairman rose and addressed the company thus:

“Most honourable and august members and guests of the Wonder Club, you will all allow that the gallant captain has amply expiated his offence. There is, however, an individual present who has been guilty of the same offence as the captain, and who has not yet undergone the penance expected from him by our club.” All eyes were turned towards the little comedian who blushed and laughed. “Need I point out that individual, gentlemen?” Cries of “No, no!” “Now, Jollytoast, for your turn, old boy,” said the tragedian. “Hear, hear!” cried other members. “Gentlemen,” continued Mr. Oldstone, “our time is short;

the clock has already struck two, and I have observed more than one yawn from amongst the company. It will be my painful duty to dismiss this genial[156]

meeting, but I cannot conscientiously do so without first performing an act of justice to the company. I, therefore, sentence Mr. Jollytoast to a comic song before our meeting breaks up.” (Cheers and laughter. Cries of “Hear, hear,” and “Now then Jollytoast;

a song, a song-Jollytoast for a song!”) The little gentleman, thus addressed, begged for a moment’s reflection, and then broke into a very merry ditty with a chorus, in which all had to join. There was plenty of acting and grimace in it, with here and there a part spoken, and any amount of “tooral-looral” in the chorus. The song being ended, our comic friend was much applauded, and the chairman, in a short speech, expressed himself satisfied with the expiation, and, wishing all the company a “good night,” and many more such genial meetings, was about to retire, when Captain Toughyarn called out, “Avast! there, chairman. You are never going to dismiss the crew without splicing the main brace first!” “True, true, captain,” said the president;

“besides the health of our sublime warbler, Mr. Jollytoast, has not been drunk yet. Fill your glasses, gentlemen, and drink to the health of Mr. Jollytoast.” Shouts and yells ensued, during which our comic guest’s health was drunk with three times three, to which he responded in a short and laughable speech that called forth more cheering. “And now, gentlemen,” said the chairman, “after[157]

having spent the tenth anniversary of our club in the company of mermaids, sea monsters, ghouls, spirits, and phantom fleas, how can we do better than wind up this honourable meeting by joining hands and singing that song composed by one of our members-now, alas! no more-to be sung at the inauguration of the Wonder Club?” The proposal was received with applause, and all the company joining hands, our host included, sung the following ditty:

– Song of the Wonder Club. As we join hand in hand Let us sing to our band, And lift up our voice in a ditty;

May memories well stored E’er enliven our board With the wondrous, the weird, and the witty. Let each thirsty soul Round the merry punch bowl Drink deep to our brotherhood’s founding, And loud be the cheers That resound in the ears Of the member with tale most astounding. Round the merry Yule flame May our band of the same Meet year after year in their niches, [158]

And list as of yore To our tales by the score Of phantoms, wraiths, goblins, and witches. Then our song’s jocund sound, When our nectar flows round, Sure Olympus was never so merry. Right jovial our crew, Whate’er be the brew, Whether brandy, port, whisky or sherry. Now whate’er befall, Here’s a “good-night” to all, May Queen Mab with her train cheer our slumber;

And with one last toast, Let us drown every ghost, Or goblin, or ghoul, in a bumper. The song at an end, a last bumper was drunk by way of a nightcap, and each gallant member or guest walked, or staggered, as the case might be, off to bed. “Ho, steward!” cried the captain, to the landlord;

“douse the glims, and show the passengers to their cabins. Where have you slung my hammock?” Our host provided candles for each of his guests, and bidding them all “good-night,” gave a yawn, and followed the example of the rest. [159]

CHAPTER V. The Headless Lady.-The Artist’s First Story. The morning following the saturnalia was cold and bleak. Without it was snowing hard, and the windows of the old inn were covered with frost crystals. Breakfast was late, few of the members of the club having yet risen, apparently not yet recovered from the effects of the previous evening. The landlord exerted himself to make the interior of his inn as cheerful as the gloomy state of the weather would permit. A large log crackled on the hearth, and the breakfast table teemed with all the delicacies that the inn could boast of;

coffee, toast, hot rolls, eggs and bacon, ham, chicken, tongue, and fresh butter. One by one the guests made their appearance. They seemed to have slept well, for they looked none the worse for their last night’s carousal. The last to enter the breakfast room was our fresh arrival, Mr. Vandyke McGuilp. He presented a very different appearance to any of the rest. He was pale and haggard, and his hair hung disordered over his eyes. “I’m afraid you have not slept well, Mr. McGuilp,” said Mr. Oldstone. “What is the matter? It surely can’t be the punch, for you drank less than any of us[160]

last night. Why, I don’t believe you drank more than a couple of glasses the whole time;

but perhaps you are not accustomed to these orgies, and a little upsets you. Look at us-seasoned old casks all of us-we are as jolly as ever. As for myself, I never felt better in all my life.” “Oh, it is not that,” replied our artist;

“but I feel somehow I passed an indifferent night.” Dr. Bleedem felt the pulse and looked at the tongue of the new guest, and pronounced him a little feverish, but said that it would soon pass over. “My blessed eyes!” cried the captain, “if the gentleman doesn’t look as scared as I felt when the shark was at my heels last night. What say you mine host?” “Well, Captain,” said the landlord, “if I might venture a remark, the gentleman looks as if he had had a visit from the headless lady.” McGuilp started. “Why do you start, sir?” inquired Mr. Blackdeed, who alone had noticed the action, his eye being ever open to anything of a dramatic effect. “A little nervousness, that is all,” replied the artist. “I feel far from well this morning.” “I assure you, your action was quite dramatic,” said the tragedian. “Oblige me by repeating it. Thank you;

I’ll practise it before the glass this morning. It will just do for my tragedy, when the wicked baron, who is in the act of carrying off a lady[161]

by force, is suddenly checked in his career by the appearance of the spirit of her brother, whom he has murdered.” “Ha! What’s that all about?” cried Oldstone, who had pricked up his ears at something resembling a story, while the rest were gossiping on indifferent matters. “You must act us a scene out of that tragedy, Blackdeed;

remember, we had no story from you last night.” “Breakfast is ready, gentlemen,” said the landlord. The guests flocked round the table and commenced their repast. “By the by, landlord,” said McGuilp, as that worthy was about to quit the room, “you give your inn a curious name. Is there any origin to it?” “Well, sir,” replied the landlord, “it was my grandfather, or great grandfather, who gave it that name-I’m not sure which.” “But-but, is there no origin to it?-no legend connected with–” “Oh, as to that, your honour,” said the landlord, “folks used to say that this house was haunted by a lady without a head;

but that’s a long time ago. I don’t exactly recollect the particulars of the story, but I have heard my father say, when I was a youngster, that he had seen her;

but it’s five and thirty years come Michaelmas that this inn has been in my hands, and I never see anything of the sort, sir. No, sir;

depend[162]

upon it, she don’t ‘walk’ now, sir. Even in my father’s time her visits used to be rare, though my grandfather used to tell me lots of stories about her when I was a child.” “Do you remember any of those stories?” “Not now, sir. I only remember hearing say that the lady was a nun;

but for what offence she was beheaded I can’t exactly call to mind now.” “Perhaps I might be able to refresh your memory,” said the artist. “What would you say if I really had had a visit from the headless lady last night?” “You, sir!” exclaimed the landlord in great astonishment. “You don’t mean to say that you really did see–” “The headless lady. Yes, I do;

I mean to say that I had a visit from her last night.” The landlord opened his eyes and mouth with a look of awe. The guests remained as if petrified. The captain’s red face grew a shade less so. Mr. Parnassus became livid. The tragedian’s hair stood on end. Mr. Oldstone looked a few years older, while the countenances of the whole company betrayed various grades of wonder and consternation. “Ahem!” coughed the chairman of the previous evening, at length breaking silence. “Perhaps you would not mind telling us about your experiences of last night, Mr. McGuilp? I am sure we are all most curious to hear something about this mysterious lady. I have never met anyone yet who could say that they[163]

had seen her, though I have heard over and over again that she used to ‘walk.’” Thus entreated, our artist proceeded as follows:

Well, then, after I left you, gentlemen, last night, before I retired to rest, in looking round my apartment, I was much struck with an old portrait, painted in a very early style, of a lady in a nun’s dress. In spite of the hard style of the period, there was something in the face-a sort of resigned melancholy-that interested me exceedingly. Still it was little more than a passing glance that I bestowed on the picture, for I felt very sleepy, and more inclined for bed than for criticising works of art. I accordingly undressed as quickly as I could, blew out the light, and in two minutes was fast asleep. I could not have enjoyed more than a quarter-of-an-hour’s repose, when I was suddenly awakened by what felt like a cold hand pressed upon my forehead. I started up, and tried to call out, but could not raise my voice above a whisper. I looked in the direction in which I expected to find the person who had awakened me, but could see nothing. All was pitch dark around me, but I heard, or thought I heard, a deep sigh as I strained my ears to catch some sound of the intruder. “Who’s there?” I called out, in a husky whisper;

but I received no reply. Beginning to be alarmed, fancying that some dishonest person had entered my chamber to rob me,[164]

or else that it was someone of the household given to walking in their sleep, I sat up in bed and peered into the darkness. As I listened I distinctly heard a low moan of such piteous anguish that it made my flesh creep and my hair to stand up. “Who could it be?” I asked myself. “Perhaps some person of unsound mind in the family whose habit it was to walk at night, and lurk about the bed-chambers.” The thought was anything but a pleasant one. Who knows what form this madness might take? Mad people are not to be trusted. I trembled to think what the intent of my visitor might be. Was he armed? I tried to reach out my hand for my tinder-box, but such a supernatural terror pervaded my whole frame, that my limbs were paralysed, and I remained sitting up in bed, as if rooted to the spot, without power to move a finger. At length, not being able to bear this suspense any longer, I bethought me of striking terror into my visitant, and though carrying no arms about me, my object was to alarm the stranger into speaking, so I called out in husky tones as loud as my voice would permit me, “Speak, or I fire!” But no answer was given. What was to be done? I could not carry my threat into execution, having no weapon. I could not even move from my post for fear, I felt the cold perspiration streaming down from my[165]

temples, my whole frame shook, and my teeth chattered together. It was something more than mortal fear that I suffered;

it was as if I were in the presence of some supernatural being. Gradually I became aware of a dark form, apparently that of a woman, close to my bed. My eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, and I could distinguish the various objects in my bed-chamber with greater facility. I rivetted my eyes on the figure, but all I could discern was a long black robe and two white hands. I looked for the face, but in vain. It seemed covered up, for the shoulders merged into the darkness. Soon, as if to aid my vision, a sort of pale blue light spread a halo around the figure, and grew gradually brighter, setting it off in relief. I could now see the whole figure distinctly. I looked for the head. Oh, horror! It was wanting. I shuddered, and felt an intense desire to scream, but my voice was gone. Had I then really lived to see a ghost? Was there, then, some foundation for the strange name given to the inn? I had never heard from my friend Rustcoin that it was reported haunted, and I most assuredly should have heard about it if he had had any knowledge of it. Perhaps it was a thing not generally known;

perhaps its appearance was not usual, and it only appeared at intervals to certain privileged beings. Was I one of those beings? I asked myself. Perhaps so. It might[166]

have something to communicate. I would address it, but my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth, for now I saw distinctly that the head I had missed was carried under the left arm of the figure. I marked well the face;

it was extremely beautiful, and I thought I recognised a likeness to the old portrait I had been looking at;

but oh! how far short that old piece of painted panel fell of the original;

if, indeed, it was ever intended for a representation of the lineaments I now gazed upon. I made a second effort to address it, but as I opened my mouth to speak I heard another most audible moan from the headless figure. I was awed, but that intense fear which I experienced when I became aware that some stranger had entered my chamber had all but vanished now that I was certain that I was in the presence of a denizen of the spirit world. Awful as this certainty was, it seemed to fade into insignificance when compared with the terrible feeling of doubt I had before experienced. I now felt comparatively relieved;

so much so, indeed, that I even found room in my heart for pity-that one so young and so beautiful as she appeared to be should have suffered such a cruel and ignominious death. At length, in a low and subdued tone, I addressed the figure. “Spirit, whate’er thou art or wert, whether of good or evil, whether from the regions of the blest or the haunts of the damned, speak! Declare thy mission.”[167]

A hollow moan proceeded from the trunk of the headless figure, and the eyes in the head held under its arm rolled upwards with a look of despair, while in tones low, solemn, yet sweet, it spoke, the lips vibrating, though the voice came from the neck. “I am the spirit of one who, dying in mortal sin, am doomed to perpetual unrest. Beheaded for my crimes in this world, I wander nightly round this spot, the scene of my infamy. Here where this house now stands once stood the convent whose walls imprisoned me while yet on earth. Forced into a life of seclusion for which I had no calling by a relentless parent who, deeming that his daughter’s alliance with the man she loved would sully his illustrious name, I was compelled to utter vows with my lips against which my heart revolted. “I could not join in the pious oraisons of my sister nuns, for while my knees bent and my lips moved my spirit was elsewhere. Day after day I languished within my prison walls, mechanically going through my duties with the rest, but to all outward seeming with devotion, for not one of them knew but that I myself had chosen that calling. “None knew then what I bore within. I made no friends, sought no confidant. When I confessed, my confessions were always of a vague sort, for I was reserved on that one point which, if confessed, would have been regarded as the most heinous crime. “At length our father confessor, who was an old man, died, and a new priest took his place.[168]

“Holy Virgin! it was my lover. He had discovered my whereabouts, and, with no holier object than the desire to see me again, he had entered into holy orders, and by stratagem contrived to enter our convent.” Here the figure gave a deep sigh, and paused. The face writhed, as if struggling with itself, whether it should proceed or remain silent. The pause was agonising, but I wished to hear more. “Proceed,” I said. Another deep sigh ensued, and she continued. “Mortal,” she said with evident reluctance, “you will despise me when you have heard the full extent of my crime. No matter, I am not what I was-I can bear it. Know, then, that I fell. Ay, blush for me, hate, loathe, despise me as thou wilt. Those holy walls which re-echoed for ages with nought save the prayers and the chanting of pious nuns, were doomed to hear the whispered words of fierce passion and to witness scenes that must for ever leave a stain upon their fair memory. “Enough, our intrigue was discovered, and I was sentenced to death. I was beheaded secretly, yet even blood could not wash out the foul stain from my soul, and I have ever since been doomed to eternal pangs of remorse.” “What!” I exclaimed, “and had your lover no knowledge of this?” “He had, and furious at the news, he came by[169]

night and set fire to the convent. The building was razed to the ground, and every nun perished.” “And your lover,” I asked, “what became of him?” “He died shortly afterwards. I was permitted to see his spirit but once, and then he was torn away from me for ever. It is that which grieves me most, for I know not what fate is reserved for him. “Heaven grant that his state may be happier than mine. Oh, how willingly would I bear the weight of all his sins, so that his portion might be in the region of the blest. I would then bear my doom without a murmur, even were my sufferings ten-fold.” “And with this charitable feeling towards the author of thy ruin, canst thou possess a soul so black as to merit eternal punishment?” said I. “Alas!” murmured the spirit, “when we die in mortal sin our doom is sealed, yet I would fain hope still that before I quit this state of purgatory and am consigned to eternal flames that the prayers of others–” “I understand;

it was with that object, then, thou soughtest me-that I might pray for thy soul?” “It was,” replied the spirit;

“and also for my lover. Oh, let me not pray in vain. Tell me thou wilt pray for me.” “Spirit,” I answered, “I am not of thy creed. I am a Protestant. Our church holds all prayers for the dead useless.” “I know it;

but it is an error. Pray, nevertheless.[170]

Thou comest from Rome, and wilt shortly return thither. Bid the pious monks and nuns there pray for my soul, and for the soul of my lover.” “Spirit, thy request is granted, and if my own weak prayers may serve in any way to relieve thy torments, they, too, shall be added.” A smile of the most ineffable sweetness and gratitude, more eloquent than words, spread over the face of the decapitated. She pressed my hand fervently with her pale, icy-cold fingers, and gradually faded from my gaze. When she had vanished, it was already daybreak. Sleep had deserted my eyelids, and as I tossed restlessly in my bed I kept wondering to myself whether what I had seen and heard could be a dream, or whether I really and truly had held converse with a ghost. The rest of the time, with the exception of a short doze I took previous to rising this morning, I spent in prayer for the release of the soul of the headless lady from purgatory, and likewise that of her lover. I leave the reader to imagine the sensation our artist’s spiritual visitation excited at the breakfast-table before the members of the Wonder Club, whose thirst for the marvellous and supernatural was insatiable. Second and third-hand ghost stories are common enough, and are generally taken for what they are worth;

but here was the case of a ghost story told by the ghost seer himself, who had seen and spoken to the ghost only the night before;

in the very house, too, in which they had[171]

all been sleeping. Then, added to that, was the manner of the narrator, which alone bore the stamp of truth on it. The quick roll of his eye, when he was describing the excited state of his feelings at the time, the involuntary shudder, and the furtive glance which he from time to time would give over his shoulder;

all signs of a nervous system that has received some great shock-to say nothing of his worn and disordered appearance, as might be expected in a man that has seen a ghost. All this enhanced the power of his words immensely. Then there was the strange fact to be borne in mind that no one had informed him that the house was haunted. No one could say that his imagination had been unduly excited by any story concerning the house previous to his going to sleep. He had retired to rest calmly, without any fear of a spiritual visitation. And how could it all be a dream? For the landlord now distinctly remembered that all our artist had related was exactly what had been told him by his grandfather. Various were the exclamations of wonderment from the guests at the breakfast-table. They gazed with awe on the narrator, then at each other, then at the narrator again. Our artist had won the esteem of the whole club. Breakfast being finished, our friends drew round the fire, and the landlord left the room, looking grave and shaking his head. McGuilp’s strange adventure had furnished food for comment for two or three hours afterwards.[172]

The whole forenoon nothing was talked of but the ghost. At length a lull occurred in the conversation, and someone recollected that it was Professor Cyanite’s turn to tell a story. At that moment our host’s pretty daughter, Helen, a blooming girl of sixteen, entered with the lunch. Our artist was enraptured with the golden hair, blue eyes, and rosy cheeks of the maiden, after the swarthy beauties of Italy;

but, above all, with her innocent, modest, and half-bashful manner. “Well, Helen,” said Mr. Oldstone, “has your father told you about the ghost?” “Oh, yes, sir,” replied the girl, her merry expression changing suddenly to a look of awe;

“he did frighten me so;

I am sure I shall never be able to sleep again in this house.” “This is the gentleman who saw the ghost, Helen,” cried one of the other members, pointing to our artist. The maiden turned and saw a fresh face in the club. Our artist was the youngest, by many years, of any of the other gentlemen present, besides which he was decidedly good looking. He gazed into the eyes of the girl till the poor child blushed crimson and looked down abashed. “Ho! ho! Helen, my girl,” said Mr. Crucible, one of the oldest members of the club, “you don’t blush like that when you look at us old fogies-what is the matter, eh?”[173]

A general laugh ensued, much to the confusion of poor Helen, and our artist himself felt not a little confused at having produced such an impression on the girl in the presence of so many others of his own sex. “What ho! Helen, bring another log;

we’re freezing,” cried Professor Cyanite, changing the conversation, much to the relief of the girl, who was glad to escape from the banter of the club by quitting the room. Our guests began their repast of cold meat and pickles, bread and cheese, and home-brewed ale. After they had finished the daughter of the landlord re-entered with a large log, which she placed on the fire. “That’s right, my girl,” said Mr. Oldstone, drawing his chair up to the fire;

“now bring us pipes.” The girl left the room, and soon returned with a bundle of long clay pipes, already waxed, which she distributed amongst the company, receiving a chuck under the chin from one;

a gentle pat on the cheek from another;

from a third, a stroke on the head;

from a fourth, a squeeze of the hand;

a fifth placed his arm round her waist;

while a sixth pretended to kiss her, but no further harm was done. Our artist placed a chair for her next to himself, round the fire, and asked her if she were fond of hearing stories. The maiden blushed and smiled and said that she was. “Bravo, Helen,” said Mr. Oldstone;

“remain with[174]

us and hear a fresh story. Professor Cyanite is just going to favour us.” A circle was formed round the fire;

Helen seating herself modestly by the side of the artist, while the professor, sitting back in his chair, and stretching out his legs towards the fire, stroked his ample forehead, and with a puff at his pipe, commenced the following story. [175]

CHAPTER VI. The Demon Guide;

or, the Gnome of the Mountain.-The Geologist’s Story. Some twenty years ago, when I was on a scientific tour in the mountains of Switzerland with a friend of mine, who travelled with the same object as myself, a strange incident occurred to me, which I have never been able satisfactorily to explain. We journeyed in each other’s company daily, each carrying with him a geologist’s hammer and a light travelling bag slung round one shoulder, for the purpose of collecting specimens of various minerals, fossils, etc., that we might find during our march. We jogged along merrily enough together, each day bringing home some rare specimen or other. We were both in full vigour of health, and both capital climbers. Mountain air and exercise had given us marvellous appetites, and I never remember being in better spirits in my life. As we were not pushed for time or money, and were on a scientific expedition instead of what is called a pleasure trip, it was less our object to scour large tracts of country than to stroll leisurely through the district, making observations by the way. Travelling, therefore, both with the same object,[176]

and not obliged to hurry onward, we had nothing to try our tempers, as ordinary tourists have, who travel in company and usually fall out with each other by the way because one with short wind can’t keep up with his longer-winded companion. Nothing, perhaps, is more trying to the temper than being obliged to keep pace with a well-trained mountaineer if you yourself happen to be out of training. To see him striding on ahead with the most perfect ease and enjoyment, whilst you are toiling and sweating, and puffing and gasping in the rear, parched with thirst and ready to drop with fatigue;

perhaps knee deep in snow, plunging about like a porpoise, in the frantic attempt to keep up with your well-trained companion. Why, the treadmill is a joke to it! How you curse your folly for coming to visit such barbarous places, and how you internally vow never to leave home again. How inconsiderate of your companion to leave you so far behind, as if you did not belong to his party. He seems to ignore you, and you feel the slight. He ought to keep pace with you, not you with him, you think. How you hate him for his rude health and long wind;

and should he so far forget himself as to add insult to injury by bawling after you to “come on,” and not “lag behind;

” or call you by some such name as “slow coach,” “stick-in-the-mud,” or other choice epithet, oh, then it is not to be borne. Your ire is raised beyond[177]

due bounds. You could stab him if you only had him near enough, and a weapon handy. If any of my friends who content themselves with taking their daily walk of a mile or so on level ground fancy that this is an exaggeration of the state of a man’s feelings when the body is tired out and the nerves on the stretch, I recommend him to try a trip in some mountainous district when out of training, and to choose as companion some well-trained son of the mountains. As I observed before, gentlemen, my friend and I were not wont to fall out in this way with one another, and we took our journey very easily, chipping out a fossil here and a crystal there, conversing the while on secondary and tertiary formations, volcanic eruptions, alluvial deposits, debris, quartz, and marl, mica, slate, talc, calc, etc., etc. Thus we journeyed on together day after day for weeks, until we found that the face of the country changed suddenly. Two mountain ranges branched off almost at right angles from one another. My friend and I resolved to separate, and each to explore in a different direction, and to meet again in about a fortnight. We accordingly parted, and I commenced exploring a wild track of mountainous country alone. Charmed with the wild beauty of the scene, as well as interested in its geological structure, I suffered my footsteps to lead me onward until hunger stole upon me. I had eaten nothing since the morning, and it was now getting[178]

late. One day at home without food is bad enough, but it is not to be compared with a day spent in the mountains, walking and climbing all the time. I looked out for a châlet, but there was none visible. Meanwhile it grew dark, and I found myself benighted. There was not even a shed to rest under, so I was obliged to repose my weary limbs upon the cold, damp, rock, with such shelter from the night air as the dark pine trees afforded. It was a strange, wild, scene the spot where I encamped. The spectre-like pines stretched forth their weird branches, drooping with bearded moss, like phantom Druids invoking a curse over this scene of desolation. The moon, peeping fitfully through the black clouds, lit up the glaciers on the mountain opposite. Here and there was a great pine torn up by the roots, or over-hanging the abyss below. Immense clumps of rock, grown over with dank moss, were interspersed through the dark pine forest. A small stream trickled over the large stones, pursuing its zig-zag course till it reached the valley below. The howling of the wind and the occasional thunder of the avalanche from some neighbouring mountain lent a kind of terror to the scene, which I should have enjoyed, had I been in a more comfortable frame of mind. But, with the gnawing pains of hunger and the horrible feeling of doubt as to whether I should ever meet with any traces of civilisation where I might recruit my wasted energies, the beauty of the spot[179]

was shut from me, and I found it only a cold, damp, disagreeable retreat. It was yet early in the night when I took up my quarters here, but it was dark and cloudy, and I put up at this place, despairing of finding a more hospitable lodging, on account of the darkness, besides which I was tired out. I had reposed in my uncomfortable quarters for, it might be, two or three hours, though without sleeping, when the clouds began to disperse and the sky was calm and serene, the moon bright and clear, so I thought I would leave my camping place and venture a little further, in the vague hope of finding some hospitable châlet where I might obtain fire and food. I was now considerably rested from my fatigue, but the pangs of hunger grew ever more intense. I wandered on and on, till the pines grew less thick, and a wide extended view opened before me, when I fancied that I descried afar off in the valley a light. My heart began to revive. As I strode onward I saw below me a small lake, over which frowned dark toppling crags. The moon shone brightly over all. Still keeping the distant châlet in sight, I could think of little else than the meal which would await me on my arrival;

but while glancing casually over the lake illumined by the moonbeams, and the cliff that overhung it, my eye was suddenly arrested by an object, apparently a human being, clambering up a height that I should have imagined inaccessible to any mortal man. It literally overhung the lake.[180]

At first I thought my eyes deceived me, but as I looked I was more and more convinced that it was a human being performing this feat. I had heard much of the daring of the Swiss mountaineers, but this beat anything I ever heard of, for the cliff, besides over-hanging, was comparatively smooth, being of slate, and there appeared nothing to hold on by. “Could it really be a human being?” I asked myself. If so, it was so hideously misshapen as hardly to deserve the title. In spite of my hunger, I panted awhile in breathless anxiety to observe the course of this creature. “Surely some madman,” thought I, “tired of his life.” Every moment I expected to see his foot slip and to hear a splash in the lake below;

but no, the being, whatever it was, crawled steadily upwards like a huge spider, till it gained the summit of the cliff. I then lost sight of it. A few steps further on led me to the spot the climber had reached, when soon among the lengthened shadows of the pines, I descried a shadow which was not that of a tree. I approached, and as the moon lit up the object in my path, I beheld a sight that made my blood freeze to look upon. It was one of those hideous crêtins which inhabit the valleys of all mountainous countries. I started, and the idiot, who gazed at me vacantly at first, seemed to have sense enough to be aware of the impression he had made, and to take a fiendish delight[181]

in the effect that he had produced. The aspect of this being was the most frightful of anything I had ever seen in human shape. He could not have exceeded four feet in height, but the breadth of his shoulders was such as to make his figure a complete square. His neck was short, and his head, which was enormous, was covered over with scant sandy hair. The complexion was ghastly;

the lips thin and livid, the nose flat and spreading, and the eyes, which were an immense distance apart, pale green and fishy;

the face was round and broad, and though generally idiotic in expression, was lit up at times with a look of intelligence, mixed with the most preternatural cunning and malignity. The muscular development of the upper part of this strange figure was prodigious, and the arms were so long that the fingers all but touched the ground, but the legs were extremely short and misshapen, the feet being monstrous. His back was round as a camel’s, and from his throat down to his waist hung a huge goître, which gave a still more disgusting look to his tout ensemble;

added to this, his ears were large and shaggy, his fingers short and stunted, the palms of his hands hard and horny. He was dressed after the usual fashion of the Swiss peasantry in that part of Switzerland, but his clothes were so patched and tattered, that the masterpiece was barely discernible. I gazed for some moments in silent horror at the spectacle before me, when the monster blocking up my path clapped his hands suddenly on his thighs, and[182]

burst into a loud discordant laugh, exhibiting two rows of black, uneven teeth. My blood curdled as the echo of those fiendish tones broke on my ear. I recoiled, but, mastering my fear, I said in his own native tongue-or, rather, in better German than is spoken among the peasantry-”Well, my friend, does my appearance amuse you? Are strangers so rare in your country that they are found worthy of so much notice?” The idiot gazed at me awhile with vacant stare, then pointed to his mouth, to signify that he was dumb. “Poor wretch,” I muttered to myself;

“and yet he seems to understand a little.” I thought I would ask him by signs where he lived. I read by his eye, which suddenly grew intelligent, much to my surprise, that he understood my question, and he answered by gestures, which seemed to say, “My home is here, there, and everywhere. On the black mountain top, in the pine forest, by the still lake-anywhere where there is earth and sky.” “Poor wanderer,” thought I;

“houseless, like myself, and yet how infinitely more contented. Who knows but that that stunted form may contain the soul of a philosopher.” “Idiot,” I said, with all possible meekness in my outward bearing, “I am hungry. Can you lead me to a châlet where I may get food and shelter?” He nodded his head. “Bravo!” said I. “Lead on.”[183]

The dwarf gave me a peculiar look, which I understood to mean, “What will you give me if I show you the way?” “Oh, don’t be afraid,” said I;

“I’ll pay you well;

only make haste;

I’m starving.” I put my finger in my waistcoat pocket to make him comprehend that I was willing to reward him, but he glanced contemptuously at my gesture, and, thrusting his hand into his pocket, he brought out a handful of good-sized gold nuggets, which he threw towards me with a disdainful air. I was amazed, and seeing them glitter in the moonlight, I stopped to pick them up. At this the creature burst out again into a loud laugh. I felt somewhat abashed at this reproof of my covetousness from one who evidently despised filthy lucre himself, but I consoled my conscience with the thought that I looked upon the nuggets more from a geologist’s point of view than from a miser’s. “Where did he find the gold?” I asked myself. “Could it really be a great philosopher who stood before me, who despised the yellow metal, or was it an idiot who did not know the value of it?” These reflections of mine were silent. Nevertheless, the cripple gave me to understand with a nod of his head and an unmistakable look in his eye, that he very well understood what they were worth to such men as myself;

but with another gesture he expressed that for himself he was above it.[184]

“Indeed,” said I, “then what would you of me, if not gold?” He gave me a malicious smile, and nodded his head slightly, but I understood not the gesture. I was impatient, and wanted to put an end to our mummery, so I said, “Come, lead on;

I am hungry. Since you despise gold, I suppose you will do so much for me as an act of friendship?” He grinned from ear to ear and nodded. “It is well,” said I, and I followed my guide. We began slowly to descend the mountain, my guide running nimbly on in front, then standing still at intervals and beckoning to me. This he continued to do until we arrived at the foot of the mountain, and I remember feeling an irresistible and unaccountable impulse to follow my guide more quickly than before. As the steel is attracted to the magnet, so I felt irresistibly attracted towards the monster. It was as if he possessed some strange magnetic power over me, for whenever he lifted up his finger to beckon to me I felt it impossible to resist following him. I thought the feeling might be fancy at first, and I attributed my quickened pace against my own will to the impetus given by the steep declivity of the mountain, but afterwards I found that it was exactly the same on level ground. We walked on further, till we found ourselves at the foot of a glacier, where stood the châlet which I sought. I knocked and entered, and was welcomed by the[185]

owner of the hut, a middle-aged and portly dame with a goître that hung over her breast, and some young children with incipient goîtres. I told the hostess that I was a hungry traveller, and asked her to give me the best that she had in the house. Whilst waiting for my supper I warmed myself by the fire and scrutinised the inmates of the cottage. The children seemed very healthy, and not bad looking, if they had not been all disfigured with the family goître, which they all inherited in a greater or less degree. They seemed to be great friends with my guide, gambolling around him and buffeting him unmercifully. At length my supper arrived, consisting of poached eggs, cold sausage and ham, Swiss cheese, stale bread, and some sort of spirit drunk in the mountains. Having concluded my repast, I lit a pipe, and, drawing up my chair to the fire, entered into conversation with mine hostess. “This is your son, I presume?” asked I of the landlady, pointing to my guide. “No, sir,” she replied;

“he is only a poor crêtin that I have taken in out of charity, as the children are fond of him. They say in these parts that it is lucky to have an idiot in the house, so, having none in my family, I took in this poor afflicted being;

though, as to being lucky, all the luck which I’ve known since–” The hostess suddenly stopped in her conversation,[186]

and her face became locked and rigid without any apparent reason. I looked in the direction of the cripple, and observed his glance fixed on the hostess. It was a glance which nearly took my breath away. No wonder the landlady paused in her conversation. It was as if he possessed the gift of the evil eye. The magnetic influence he had over her completely closed her mouth. Curious to know whether the landlady was really under a spell, I resumed. “And this unfortunate, besides being idiotic, is he also deaf and dumb?” The landlady seemed to awake suddenly, as from a dream, and replied, “Alas! yes, sir;

no one has ever heard him utter a sound, or even–” Here she paused again, and again I noticed the creature’s glance fixed upon her. “It is very strange,” I observed, following up the conversation, “for I myself this evening have discoursed with him by signs, and so far from being idiotic, I must say that I found him very intelligent.” “Ah, yes, sir,” she rejoined;

“and if you should want a guide to-morrow, you could not do better than take him. No one knows the mountains here better than he.” “Indeed,” I replied;

“then he cannot be altogether an idiot.” “Well, as to that, sir, I fancy at times he is more knave than fool. Indeed, I cannot quite make him out.[187]

He is an odd being. No one hereabouts knows who his parents were, or how he came in these parts.” Again the landlady ceased suddenly, as before, and I noticed again that the creature’s eye was fixed upon her. “What a very mysterious personage,” I resumed, affecting not to notice the magnetic spell the worthy dame appeared to be under. “I am interested in this odd creature. Tell me more of him.” Mine hostess was unable to reply. “Why do you pause?” I asked. “Why do you not answer?” The creature’s eye was upon me now, and I experienced a curious sensation, as if my voice was suddenly taken away from me, that I had no power to move a limb;

in fact, that I was completely in the power of this horrible imp;

but rousing myself, I determined to combat against this spell, and I succeeded in stammering a few words with the utmost difficulty. But that fearful eye was again upon me, and my tongue was completely tied;

my limbs grew stiff and paralysed, and so I remained for some minutes, till the eye was removed. “What can this strange feeling be which has just come over me?” I asked. “I never felt so in all my life before.” The crêtin’s eye vacillated between me and the dame, as if to forbid further conversation. Feeling tired, and not caring for further discourse, as well as glad of an excuse to escape from my friend,[188]

whose mysterious power over myself I had already experienced and therefore could not deny, I thought I would take rest until the morning, so I asked for a candle, and was shown into a small chamber with a heap of straw in one corner of it. I partly undressed, and fell asleep. Thus I reposed till an early hour in the morning, though still dark, when I was suddenly awakened by a terrific snore. I started up, and remained in a sitting position. A pause, then again there was a long, deep-drawn, unmistakable repetition of the same. I fixed my eyes on the spot whence the sound proceeded, and perceived, as well as the darkness would permit, a heap upon the floor in the opposite corner of the apartment. Who could it be? I was about to strike a light to satisfy my curiosity, though I had but little doubt it was my friend of the previous evening, when the sleeper, to my surprise, began talking in his sleep;

and my ill-favoured friend, it seemed, was dumb. My hand was arrested in the act of striking a light, as the speaker began talking loud and fast and in a very peculiar strain. I was curious to hear more of his conversation;

accordingly I refrained at present from striking a light, as the sound might awaken him, and listened attentively. I wondered much what could be the subject of the sleeper’s dream. I grew more and more puzzled at his words. It is impossible for me to give you one hundredth part of his conversation here, even if time[189]

permitted;

for his utterance was so rapid that he would have outstripped any shorthand writer. Some part of his strange colloquy, however, I have retained, as I fancied that in it I found reference to myself. “Fools!” he cried with vehemence;

“I tell you the prize is sure. I have him in my power, he cannot escape me. Ye who prize blood rather than gold, make ready the chasm to receive him. He is one of those fools who delight in danger, and he will follow me. What think ye? He seeks chasms and grottoes for the insane pleasure of burdening himself with the dross which we beings of a higher order tread under foot. Crystals, fossils, shining stones, the ore of different metals, especially gold and such trumpery, are trifles that his mind (if such it may be called) revels in. “Do you not believe me, my friends? Ha! ha! I wonder not at your disbelief;

ye whose sublime philosophy is nourished in the peaceful bowels of the earth, and who are therefore unable to comprehend how there can exist an order of beings so totally degraded and so approaching the brute, nay, so far surpassing even the brutes themselves in the grossness of its appetites, as to yearn for the very stones which form the pavement and the walls of our subterranean palaces. “Ye, my friends, who never issue from your cells to visit that outer world, because, forsooth, your eyesight is not formed by nature to endure the glare which illumines the surface of this globe, how is it possible[190]

that ye should believe that there exist without intelligences so stunted and depraved? But I tell you, my brothers in philosophy, that this fool belongs to a race of maniacs, who have long attempted to invade our peaceful shores, and even succeeded so far as to penetrate nearly to the roofs of our dwellings-let us be thankful that their frames are not suited to endure our genial element below-with much labour, and for the sole purpose of obtaining metal or some such rubbish out of which they form– “Tush! I do but waste time in attempting to enumerate the countless uses to which these madmen turn our paving stones. When ye are more at leisure, if ye are content, I will relate to you some of the incredible absurdities of those insects which crawl upon the outward surface of our globe. “At present, my brother gnomes, we have a great work before us;

our wants must be satisfied, and we must adopt the means to satisfy them. We thirst for blood, and we must have it. This fool loves to feast his eyes upon gold, and gold he shall see by the stratum. He but barters his blood for gold, after the fashion of his own vile race. What else can he expect from us? “It is not often, my friends, that we have a feast of blood. Only now and then when some stray traveller falls into a crevice or impudently approaches too near to the craters of Vesuvius and Etna, till he gets suffocated by the fumes and falls senseless into our maws.[191]

“Happily for us, we are not so constituted as to need sustenance to the extent of those gross gormandisers of the upper world who, would you believe it, my comrades, find it necessary to devour food three or four times a day. “Ah! well you may open your august eyes at the mention of a vice so brutally preposterous. Thus it is to be sons of clay. We, who are more finely organised beings, of an essence more ethereal, are content to allow ages to pass before we indulge our appetites with a full meal;

yet we, too, my brethren, need sustenance sometimes. “Again we are suffering from the pangs of hunger, and we must be satisfied. Patience, my fellow sages and students of those sublime and abstruse sciences ignored by the gross intellects of our reptile neighbours, patience, for to-morrow I bring you a feast of blood. I have brought you blood before, and I will do so again. It is for this that I have taken upon me the base form of one of the vilest among their own vile race. “My own comely shape by which I am known here below is ill-suited to brook the atmosphere of the surface world;

therefore, partly to excite compassion, and consequently disarm suspicion, I have adopted a loathsome disguise, through which even ye, my friends, would fail to recognise me. At this moment, while I am speaking, the filthy clay that for your sakes I shall don to-morrow lies in the chamber of the victim. “I am so far able to free myself from it as to[192]

speak with you in the spirit, but I much fear that the sympathy which to some extent must exist between my spirit and the fulsome mask that awaits me in the world above, may so influence the organs of the foul body as to cause it to correspond audibly to the voice of my spirit, and so alarm the victim in whose chamber it sleeps, and scare him into flight. “Therefore my discourse must be brief. There is no time to be lost. At once ye must commence to stir up the internal fires in this earth’s centre, and cause a powerful earthquake. The external crust which these mortals inhabit must crack and gape into chasms. I will lead him into the mountains to-morrow when he will be your prey;

till then, farewell.” No sooner had the orator concluded his harangue than I began to feel a curious sensation. It was as if the floor on which I had been lying were lifted up under me, and I felt myself rolling from side to side, much in the same manner as if I were at sea. This motion continued and increased, and was accompanied by a low rumbling sound. After a time this grew louder, and I heard an explosion, and then a heavy crash, as if the mountains were being riven asunder, and were now toppling headlong into the valleys, sweeping away whole villages with a force inconceivable. The whole châlet rocked like an open boat in a storm. I was panic struck, and trembled in every limb. It was then really true all that I had seen and heard;

[193]

it was no disordered dream. The gnomes were really at work. Louder and louder grew the rumbling. Crash followed upon crash. All the inmates of the châlet were aroused, and screams of women and children resounded from every quarter. I sprang to my feet, hurriedly donned my coat and boots, and rushed out of the hut, but my fiendish companion was at my heels. Upon gaining the outside of the cottage I found the face of the country much changed. Huge crags had been loosened, and tumbled quite close to us. Many châlets had been completely crushed under them, and as far as the eye could see all was one scene of desolation. The terror and the consternation of my poor hostess was pitiable. She gathered her children together as a hen gathers her chickens under her wings, and remained stupefied with despair. As for myself, having escaped the danger of being crushed alive, my only thought now was to escape my tormentor in the best way I could. The earthquake was at an end, so I strode on in the direction I had followed on the previous day, taking advantage of the momentary absence of the dwarf, who had entered the hut for some purpose or other, and imagined for a moment that I should not be overtaken. Alas! vain hope;

hardly had I proceeded for ten minutes, when I heard steps behind me, and lo! there was the hideous elf running after me on all fours, his physical conformation[194]

rendering this mode of progression the easiest. I started, and my blood ran cold. “What do you want?” I asked, angrily, still striding on. But it was useless. Raising himself on his short legs, he beckoned to me, and I immediately felt myself spellbound. “Follow me,” he signed with a gesture. “I do not want a guide,” I replied. “I am neither in search of crystals, fossils, nor of shining stones;

no, nor even of gold.” “Never mind,” he seemed to say;

“come all the same;

I will show you what the earthquake has done.” “I am much obliged to you;

but I have seen enough of the earthquake, and I repeat I do not want a guide.” “I do not want your money;

I will follow you for friendship,” he appeared to say. “Not even for friendship,” I said;

“I prefer to walk alone.” “What!” he intimated, “when you can get a companion for nothing?” “Don’t you see, my good man,” said I, “that your presence is a bore to me-that I’d rather be alone?” “Nevertheless, yesterday evening you were glad enough of a guide, and I asked you for no reward for my trouble,” he seemed to say with his eye. “It is false,” I replied;

“I did not want a guide. I could have found the hut myself.”[195]

“That is ungrateful,” he said, in his dumb manner. “Did you not ask me?” “If I asked you,” I replied, “I did so for the sake of not passing you without a word;

besides, I offered you money, and you refused it. I won’t be under any obligation to you,” said I. “Here, take your nuggets;

I want them not,” and I threw them at him. “I’ll have nothing to do with one who feigns to be dumb in the daytime, and yet can talk well enough at night.” The crêtin gazed scrutinisingly at me for some time, as much as to say, “Ha! ha! my friend, you have overheard my discourse. I thought as much, but no matter;

escape me if you can.” He then walked rapidly on in front of me with his short legs, every now and then beckoning to me with his long arms, and I immediately felt myself impelled by a power not my own, and found myself forced to follow the wretch in spite of all my efforts. “I will not, I will not follow you like a victim to the altar,” I cried, straining every nerve to control myself. “Vile gnome, thou shalt not feast on my blood!” The fiend nodded his huge head slowly with a complacent smile, as if to say, “We shall see, we shall see.” On, and still on, up, further up the mountain, through thick pine forests and gigantic clumps of rock the demon guide led his unresisting prey. Breathless, footsore, over the most impassable places the relentless fiend magnetically dragged me after him;

at a rate, too, that thoroughly surprised me;

until, to my horror, I[196]

found myself close to a deep chasm formed in the rock by the late earthquake. The demon halted, and now speaking for the first time since our walk together, he asked with a malicious smile if I desired any fossils or any gold, observing that all sorts of curiosities were to be found down there. He then made a strange gesture with his hand towards my face, and I suddenly perceived I was under a spell. I had no memory of anything that had happened up to that time. I bore no malice against my guide;

on the contrary, he appeared to me my best friend. He did not even seem any longer ugly in my eyes, and when he asked me if I would descend into the chasm, I replied cheerfully. “Yes;

but how shall we manage it?” “I have brought a rope on purpose,” said my friend. “Bravo!” said I. He then began to unwind a long rope from his waist, and adjusted it underneath my shoulders. I then descended gradually, my companion holding the rope and letting it out by degrees, until I had descended a very considerable distance, when he fastened the other end to a stump. I then began chipping out various geological specimens, and experienced an intense delight in my novel situation. Soon, however, while busily occupied in extracting a bone of an ichthyosaurus, I was interrupted by a cry of many voices from below.[197]

“Secure the victim! Down with him, down with him! Our feast of blood is at hand.” Then followed a hungry roar, as of wild beasts unfed. The charm was broken in an instant, and I awoke to a sense of my awful position. To drop my hammer and clamber up the rope as fast as I could was my first step;

but what was my horror, when, on raising my eyes aloft, I descried the fiend in the act of deliberately cutting the rope. How fortunate I happened to look upwards just at that moment. The rope was already half cut through;

in another moment I must have been launched into the abyss, to be devoured by the bloodthirsty monsters below. There was no time to lose;

I was desperate, so thrusting one foot into a chink in the walls of the chasm, I looked about for another, then for some projecting stone to grasp hold of, and thus by slow degrees, at the imminent peril of my life, I climbed up until I gained the ledge of the chasm. It was a terrific struggle for life. The rope was of immense length, and, deep as I had descended, there was yet an immeasurable gulf below me. The darkness of the chasm prevented the gnome above from seeing his victim, though I could see him well enough. When he severed the rope he knew none other than that I had already been precipitated into the maws of the gnomes below. When, therefore, lacerated and exhausted, I reappeared at the top, the utmost consternation and chagrin were visible in the features of the[198]

wretch. Too astonished, perhaps, to think of working another charm upon me, the ogre pounced upon me like a tiger on his prey, and a terrific tussle ensued-a tussle for life and death. I soon found I was no match for my misshapen, but powerful, adversary. I was soon worsted. Every moment I expected to be my last. “Can the Almighty allow the fiends to triumph over His own?” I asked myself, in my dying moments. I offered up a short prayer, and gave myself up for lost. Suddenly a crash. A huge mass of rock above me had loosened. The demon let go his hold to save himself, but it was too late. The deformed body of the crêtin lay crushed beneath the weight of the enormous fragment. I myself escaped with but a slight graze on the head and shoulder. Had I been one whit less active, I must have shared the fate of my guide. For a moment I stood rooted to the spot, stupefied, bewildered;

then, offering up a prayer of thanksgiving for my miraculous salvation, I departed on my way rejoicing. The last sounds which rang in my ears were the voices of the hungry gnomes, calling out, “Give us our victim;

we famish.” But I heeded them not, and continued my journey with a buoyant step. I had a long and tedious walk before me. At sundown, however, I reached the hotel from which I had started. My friend, of course, had not arrived, as I had[199]

returned before the time specified. I know not how it was, whether from the effects of over-fatigue or excessive fright, but I was seized immediately upon my arrival with a prolonged illness. A leech was sent for, the best that the mountains could produce, and after feeling my pulse and looking at my tongue, shook his head gravely. He asked me the symptoms of my case, and to what I attributed it. I told him the story that I have just retailed to you, gentlemen;

but he only shook his head again, and said that I was in a high state of fever, that these ravings were but the offspring of delirium, that I had been deluded by my senses, etc. But I knew better, for previous to meeting with the monster I had never enjoyed better health in my life. Need the reader be told that at the conclusion of this narrative the professor was greeted with murmurs of applause from his gratified audience? “Well, Helen,” said our artist, to his fair neighbour, “what do you think of the professor’s story?” The maiden blushed, and smilingly replied in a low voice, that she liked it very much, and then added, “And are there really those horrid what-ye-call-ums that eat up poor gentlemen all alive?” “So the professor says,” replied Mr. Oldstone. “You would not doubt his word, would you?” “Oh, no, not for a moment, sir,” said the girl;

“but how dreadful;

I’m sure I shall dream horribly to-night.” “Oh, no, you won’t, my dear,” said Mr. Crucible.[200]

“Don’t be afraid;

and, I say, Miss Helen, don’t you think you could tell us a story? I am sure Mr. Blackdeed, who comes next on the list, will yield his turn to you.” “Oh, certainly,” said the tragedian;

“only too happy;

besides, it is not every day our club is honoured by a lady.” “There now, lass,” said Captain Toughyarn, “if I may be allowed to put in my marling spike, that’s the prettiest little compliment you’ve shipped this many a day. Come, sail along. What! afraid to set sail alongside big ships like ours? Bah! When I was a little craft of your tonnage I did not want so much towing when asked for a yarn.” “The Captain’s nautical language confuses the young lady,” observed Mr. Hardcase. “Come, don’t blush like that, Helen,” said Dr. Bleedem, “or I shall think you’ve got the scarlet fever, and shall be obliged to bleed you.” “Fairest of thy sex,” said little Mr. Jollytoast, going down on one knee before the maiden and placing his hand on his heart in the manner of a stage lover, which added to the girl’s confusion ten-fold;

“say not nay, prithee, say not nay.” “Come, Jollytoast,” said Parnassus, “see you not that she will not be courted by importunities. Give the muse time for inspiration.” The members desisted from further persecution, and a slight pause ensued, which was broken by McGuilp,[201]

who, squeezing the maiden’s hand, whispered, “For my sake, Helen.” The girl blushed deeper still, looked down, and a subdued sigh might have been noticed by the observer. At length she looked up imploringly, and said, “But what story shall I tell? I know none.” “Oh, nonsense! Come, think,” said various members at once. The girl appeared thoughtful for some moments, then, after giving a half-bashful smile at our artist, turned towards the company, and said, “I will tell you one that my grandmother told me when I was a little thing, if you would care to hear it.” “Too delighted, Helen,” said several voices. The maiden, blushing slightly, and looking down, timidly began her story. [202]

CHAPTER VII. The Pigmy Queen;

A Fairy Tale.-The Landlord’s Daughter’s Story. Once upon a time-I think, in Germany, grandmother said that it happened;

but I am not quite sure;

perhaps it never happened at all;

but if it did, it was very far off, and a long time ago, that there lived a very wicked king, who, to increase his power, had leagued himself with the evil one, and used to practise witchcraft. All sorts of witches and wizards were encouraged at his court, and the land soon became unsufferable. Many wealthy citizens being persecuted by the malice of these creatures, fled the country. It happened one day, however, in the very midst of his crimes, that the bad king died, and was succeeded by his son, who proved in every respect the very reverse of his father. He was a good man, of a peaceful and amiable disposition, and who had received an education far superior to that given generally to the laity at that time. He had married lately a foreign princess of great wit and beauty, and on ascending the throne his first act was to rid his realm of all the witches and wizards which had infested it in his father’s time. He threatened[203]

with death all those who should be found in the land after ten days. These tidings were received with murmurs of disapprobation by all these wicked people, who would fain have wrought a charm upon the king to kill him, if they could;

but the king, being a good man, was under the protection of the good fairies. Nevertheless, the populace were delighted at this determination of their monarch’s, having known nothing but oppression and persecution under the reign of the late king. A few days after the good king had given out his stern edict he was seated on his throne, with his consort beside him, when he was informed that a poor woman without desired to speak with him. The king, ever open to compassion, imagining it to be some poor widow oppressed by an unfeeling and dishonest tyrant, who sought redress for her wrongs, ordered her to be admitted into his presence. The guards accordingly made way for her, and a wild, ragged, squalid, and malignant-looking beldame prostrated herself at the monarch’s feet. “O king,” she pleaded, “thou who art great and mighty, have mercy on the poor and houseless, and cease to persecute those that do thee no harm. Know that I am queen of the witches, a race much patronised by thy late father of blessed memory, and who were accounted worthy to dine at his table and be his constant companions.”[204]

To which the good king replied, “My father’s reign is over. Another and more virtuous king now rules the land. My father encouraged the evil, I the good. Ye have heard our order;

our word is irrevocable.” Then the hag prostrated herself before the queen, and begged with much fervour that she should intercede with the king for her, that he might milden her sentence. But the queen replied, “I have no other will than that of my husband, whose sole desire it is to benefit his country by exterminating the wicked. If I granted your request I should be an enemy to my country.” Then the witch queen, rising to her feet and standing erect, spake to the queen and said, “For this inclemency I curse both thee and thy husband;

and thy firstborn daughter whom thou shall shortly bring into the world shall be a dwarf, and shall know much tribulation.” At these words the queen was seized with great grief, and the king’s ire being roused, he commanded his guards to conduct the hag from his presence. Hardly had she departed when a bright light filled the palace and the queen of the fairies appeared in a chariot drawn by butterflies, and assured the king and queen that the blessings they should enjoy as a reward for not granting the witch’s request should counterbalance the curses of the witch. “Alas!” cried her majesty, “then the witch’s curse cannot be annulled?”[205]

“Not entirely,” quoth the fairy queen, “but it can be so modified that you shall feel it but little. The witch has declared that your daughter shall be a dwarf, and dwarf she shall be;

and that, too, of so diminutive a stature, as not to exceed a span in height. Nevertheless, I will bequeath to her extraordinary beauty and talents, and she shall reign long over a contented people. Great adventures she will have to go through first, but her good judgement will cause her to surmount all obstacles. Furthermore, ye shall have nothing to regret during your lifetime than that your daughter’s stature is not equal to that of other mortals.” With these words the good fairy disappeared. In due time the queen was brought to bed of a female child, so tiny that it was hardly the length of the first joint of the queen’s forefinger, but withal of such surprising beauty that the fame thereof spread throughout all the land. The child grew and increased each day in beauty, until it reached its full growth of one span in height. About a year after the birth of the young princess the queen was again confined of twins, both girls, rosy and healthy of the average size of babes. As the three sisters grew up their mother did her best to instruct them in those duties which should fit them for good princesses, as well as good wives and mothers, when a fever then raging through the land-probably part of the witch’s curse-carried off the good king and queen almost at the same time, when the[206]

eldest princess was scarce eighteen, and the three children were left in charge of a guardian. Now, as there was no male issue, the Princess Bertha (the name of the firstborn) had every right to the throne. This she knew, nor ever deemed that her right would be disputed;

but her younger sisters, who were neither so good nor so beautiful as their elder one, were suddenly seized with envy, and began to plot together in what manner they could secure the crown for themselves. They had never loved their sister nor each other, but they both agreed that the rightful heiress was to be deposed, while each of the twin sisters vaunted herself most fit to govern the country. Neither of them had the least intention of yielding the crown to the other, though both saw the necessity of wresting it from the lawful heiress, as they said it would be absurd to permit such a farce as a dwarf queen to rule over them. Now, this led to a very hot discussion, which the Princess Bertha, who was concealed from them in some nook in the chamber, happened to overhear. This envy of her sisters grieved her very much. She herself was not ambitious, and had her sisters been good to her, she would willingly have ceded the crown to them, but seeing their envy, her just indignation was roused, and she was determined not to be thrust aside because she was little of stature, so striding majestically up to them, and drawing herself up to the full extent of her tiny height, she angrily accosted them.[207]

“How is it, sisters, that envy has filled your hearts, and that ye meditate an act of injustice? Know ye not that I am your lawful sovereign? The crown is mine;

I will yield it to no one.” “Pooh!” cried both the sisters, with a laugh;

“you could not wear it.” “No matter,” said Bertha. “I will have one made on purpose.” “You!” answered one of the sisters. “Shall we have a dwarf to reign over us?” “What has my stature to do with my lawful right to the crown?” quoth the elder. “Think you that I am an idiot as well as a dwarf? Have I not abilities equal to yours-nay, superior. Come, don’t let me hear any more of this silly bickering, or I shall find means to punish you both.” These big words, proceeding from such a small body, and from one, too, who had never showed herself of an imperious disposition, but had hitherto allowed herself to be trampled upon and set at nought by them without a murmur, half-startled the twin sisters, and half-provoked their mirth. They were enraged at such words being used towards them by one whom they thought fit to despise, and knew not what to answer, so they only looked at one another. Now, there was something in that look which told Bertha that her sisters would make very little to-do about silencing her for ever, if she did not remain[208]

quiet;

and being so small a personage, to murder her and conceal the murder would be a matter of small difficulty, so she prudently withdrew. But no time was to be lost;

one of her sisters might be proclaimed queen if she did not engage the people on her side. So, wending her tiny steps to the foot of the palace stairs, she hid herself behind the hall door. Now, in the hall were two serving men, who were discussing as to which of the twin sisters should wear the crown. “Of course,” said one, “the poor little dwarf princess won’t have a chance.” “Why not?” said the other. “She is the firstborn.” “True,” said the first;

“if she had her rights, but you’ll find that some day she will be found missing, and not likely to turn up again.” “What! you don’t mean to say that–” “Hush!” said the other, putting his finger to his lips. Now, the Princess Bertha had heard enough of this conversation to make her wary, and perceiving that one of the serving men had his hat on and appeared about to leave the palace, she managed to creep unseen behind his chair, and climbed up into his pocket. Shortly afterwards the serving man rose up to go, and left the palace. Then the pigmy princess, whilst snugly ensconced in the man’s pocket as he walked along the street, began to reflect what should be her next step. “Within the palace,” she said to herself, “all is[209]

scheming and envy. I am easily put out of the way when they once get me. I must escape far from the palace and put myself under the protection of the people. At any rate, I’ll first have a peep at the world without.” So, thrusting her little head out of the man’s pocket, she looked to the right and the left, and found herself in the middle of a large square. There was a great crowd of people, who were looking at a puppet show. The serving man whose pocket she was in also stood still to look. She, too, seized with curiosity, strained her head out of the pocket to take a peep at the puppets. A play was being acted in which two puppet knights were fighting for the love of a fair lady. A sudden thought struck her. She would join the puppets and mix in the play;

it would be a way of showing herself to the public. So she stole out of the serving man’s pocket, and taking advantage of the people’s absorbing interest in the play, crept stealthily over their feet, till she came to a box full of puppets on the ground. The uppermost puppet in the box was a lady, gaily attired, probably the very lady for whom the puppet knights were fighting, so she laid herself over the body of the doll, so as to be taken by the man when he wanted her, instead of the usual puppet. The very next moment the showman, who now had to bring the lady on the scene, reached down his hand without looking, and seizing the princess in lieu of the wooden doll, brought her upon the stage.[210]

“Cease your broils,” shouted the pigmy princess in her tiny voice. “Is it thus that noble knights waste their precious blood for the love of a woman? Is not the love of a woman at her own disposal-to be granted to the man she pleases? Will she necessarily love the victor, or will he have the arrogance to think that he can conquer her heart as he could conquer a foe? Cease, madmen, and spare your blood to grace the battlefield, or to defend the rights of woman. Ye are not too plentiful, my noble knights. The realm has much need of ye. “Wrongs enough ye have to redress. What say ye to the grievous wrong they are trying to do the Princess Bertha, by pushing her aside, who is the firstborn, because they deem her too small to take her own part? But ye noble knights, who love justice, will assert her claim to the crown throughout the kingdom, and defeat the insolent champions hired by her envious sisters, who would defraud their own royal sovereign. “Proclaim throughout the land that ye will have none other to rule over you but the rightful heiress-the Princess Bertha.” After the princess’s harangue, the showman, who had long dropped the other puppets in amazement, believing that none other than a fairy trod his stage, stood with his eyes and mouth wide open, knowing not what to do. The spectators were in ecstasies at so beautiful and so natural-looking a puppet, while the crowd increased ten-fold.[211]

The serving man in whose pocket Bertha had hidden herself had never seen the princess, for he was not one of the servants of the palace;

besides which, the diminutive princess was usually hidden from the vulgar gaze, the family being rather ashamed of her than otherwise;

but one among the crowd, who happened to have seen the princess once or twice on rare occasions at the palace, cried out, “By my troth, that is the Princess Bertha herself, and none other! How comes it that she is made a puppet of in this man’s vile show? Citizens, I arrest this man for high treason!” The little princess, seeing the showman in danger, said to the gentleman, “No, worthy sir;

do this man no harm, seeing I came here by my own free will, without his knowledge, for the purpose of making the country acquainted with its future sovereign.” The gentleman pushed his way through the crowd, and was about to lay his hand on the princess to bring her back to the palace, when a monkey near at hand, also the property of the showman, and who happened at that moment to be loose, seized the diminutive princess in his arms, and clambering up the side of a house by the water spout, was soon out of sight. Now, when the news of this catastrophe reached the palace, the twin princesses were delighted that harm was likely to befall their elder sister, so that their right to the throne might be no longer disputed;

nevertheless they ordered a strict search to be made for the body of the little princess.[212]

Two parties, each headed by one of the princesses, started in different directions to search for the missing sister, but for a long time nothing was heard of her. Wearied at length with long search, the Princess Clothilde, one of the twins, gave out to her followers that she had found the body of her elder sister, but that it was so far decayed that she could not permit anyone to see it;

so, making believe to wrap up the body of the princess with a handkerchief, she carried it under her cloak and returned to the city, shedding false tears as she went. Having arrived at the palace, she ordered a coffin to be made just large enough to contain the corpse she was supposed to have found, and when it was ready she filled it with rubbish and ordered it to be interred with due honours. Now, at that time there were two factions, one voting for the Princess Clothilde and another for her sister Carlotta. It was decided, therefore, that each should choose a champion, and she whose champion should prove victorious should rule the land. Great were the preparations for this grand spectacle. Two stalwart knights, the stoutest and the ablest that the land could produce, each of whom had gained great reputation for feats of arms, faced each other to decide their cause. The day had arrived for the combat, and the jousts were crowded with all the great people of the land. The combatants appeared, and charged at each other furiously, but the good[213]

fairies who had already prophesied that the Princess Bertha should reign, willed not that either of the champions should win, and they caused a thick mist to rise between them, by which means they could neither of them see the other;

nor was the sound of their horses’ hoofs audible. The spectators, finding that nothing could be decided on that day, went away discontented, and the fight was deferred till the next day. Again the combatants appeared in the lists, and no obstacle seemed likely to interfere with the combat;

but at the moment they commenced to charge at one another the good fairies, through their art, rendered their horses so ungovernable that each knight had enough to do to preserve his seat, and this continued all day. A second time the spectators were disappointed, but they insisted upon the champions making a third trial. The third day arrived, but with no better success, for this time the fairies struck both knights and both horses with paralysis, so that neither could move an inch, but stood looking at each other all day, like two fools. At first the people laughed at so droll a sight, but at length getting impatient, they heaped showers of abuse upon the two champions, calling them fools and cowards to be afraid of one another. Other champions at length took the place of the former, but the good fairies again interfered, using all sorts of impediments, so that neither could vanquish the other, and this lasted[214]

for many days, until the people despaired of ever witnessing a fight again. Let us now return to the Princess Bertha. The fright that she experienced at finding herself in the grasp of this horrid monkey caused her to swoon away but on recovering her senses she found herself on the top of a tree in the midst of a forest, still in the monkey’s grasp. It was out of her power to escape, so she thought she would try and ingratiate herself with her captor, so she said, “Good monkey, do me no harm, for I am a king’s daughter and the rightful heiress to the crown. When I am queen I will grant you any boon you ask.” “Agreed,” said the monkey;

“I will hold you to your promise, for I am not a common monkey, but an enchanted prince, forced to wear this loathsome form through the malice of the witch queen in the reign of the late king, because I would not wed her daughter.” “Alas! poor monkey,” said the princess, “and how long art thou doomed to wander about the earth in this disguise?” “Until the death of the witch queen,” said the monkey, “when I shall resume my customary shape.” “Ah,” said the princess, “there is then hope that I may yet attain to the stature of my fellow mortals, for I, too, am under her curse.” While thus discoursing together a passer-by, perceiving the monkey in the tree, but without seeing the princess, aimed a stone at the poor ape with such force[215]

on the back of its head, that it fell senseless to the foot of the tree. The princess deeming the animal dead, grieved much for it, and called after the man who threw the stone, scolding him;

but her tiny voice was unheard, and the man was already far off. Left alone on the top of a tree in the middle of a forest, what could she do? She began to look around her, and on the next branch she saw a crow hatching her eggs. “Good crow,” she said, “I am a king’s daughter, have pity on me and carry me on thy back to a stream, for I thirst.” “I will carry you thus far,” said the crow, “if you promise to grant me a boon when you wear the crown, for I am not a common crow, but an enchanted queen suffering under the evil spell of the queen of the witches.” When the princess had promised to grant her request the crow suffered her to mount on her back, and away she flew till she came to a winding stream, where she left the princess, saying, “I must now return to my eggs.” The princess having quenched her thirst, began to reflect upon the step she should next take. She knew not which way to wander, and did not care much, as long as it was far away from her sisters. She knew that the good fairies protected her, and believed in their promise that she should be queen. Whatever hardships she might have to encounter she made up her mind[216]

were for her good. All day long she wandered by the side of the stream, over the rough stones, with her tiny feet, subsisting on berries and roots, and thus she wandered for some days without adventure. At length, one day, having arrived at the top of a high cliff which overhung a lake, and which she had ascended to see the country that lay before her, her dress caught in a thicket, and she heard the sound of horses’ hoofs behind her. It happened on that day that her two sisters had joined a hunting party and passed by in that direction. The rest of the party passed over without observing her, but her sister Clothilde, who was behind the rest, suddenly caught sight of the little princess’s shining robe, and dismounting, came up to her, saying, “So I have found thee at last, minx;

but think not to live to prove my tale false,” and with that she spurned her pigmy sister with her foot, so that she fell over the cliff. A stone which she dislodged at the same time fell into the water with a splash, and Clothilde, fancying that it was her sister who caused the splash, and that she was now hidden for ever at the bottom of the lake, rode off, rejoicing that she had rid herself so cleverly of her hated rival. But the Princess Bertha, instead of falling into the water, was caught half-way in the web of an enormous spider, who made towards her as if to devour her;

but she said, “Good spider, harm me not for I am a king’s[217]

daughter, and when I am queen I will grant thee whatsoever boon thou askest.” “I will remember thy promise,” said the spider, “for I am no common spider, but an enchanted prince, and a victim to the malice of the witch queen.” Thereupon the spider seized her gently with its legs, and letting out its thread, descended carefully with her to the bottom of the cliff. Then the spider left her, and she was once more alone on the brink of the lake. Presently she heard the sound of a woodcutter’s axe on the opposite bank of the lake. She would speak with the woodcutter, and tell him her tale;

perhaps he could help her, but how was she to cross? She looked around for a moment, and saw some water lilies.