said, and indulge in screams of laughter at its suffering. He snipped
off his dog’s ears with a sharp pair of scissors, put the house-cat into
the copper full of boiling water until its yells brought the cook to
save it, and loved better than anything to get hold of some of the
skewers out of the kitchen, in order to impale upon them any unfortunate
mouse which he could find in the traps.
If any visitor came to the castle, he was fortunate indeed if he escaped
unhurt. The little wretch began upon him as soon as he entered the
house, creeping slyly behind him in order to cut off the buttons of his
coat, give him a cruel pinch when least expected, and even sometimes
went the length of running a pin into his leg. And when the unhappy
gentleman rose to depart, if he did not find his coat-tails tied fast to
the chair, ten to one but he was tripped up, as he ran down the stairs,
by a thin but strong string, tied ankle-high by the young Baron about
half-way down, nearly sure to produce a most awkward fall, the annoyance
of which was increased by the triumphant and insulting chuckle of the
little villain, who, perched on the highest step, or peeping through the
banisters above, would watch with eager delight to witness the effects
of his wicked trick.
It is not surprising that the young rascal was cordially detested
throughout the whole household. Indeed, they had small cause to do
anything else but detest him. There was no trouble he did not give
the servants, and no trick which he did not play them. If he met the
housemaids on the stairs or in the passages he invariably blew out their
candles, or ran hastily against them, as if {069}by accident, so as if
possible to make them drop any tray or jug they might be carrying. He
rang the bell constantly for nothing, and pointed and laughed at the
footman who came hurrying to answer it. He turned the lamp-oil into the
soup just as the cook was about to send it up for the Baron’s dinner,
put a quantity of vinegar into the beer which the butler had carefully
drawn for the “hall” supper, and smeared the groom of the chamber’s
chair in “the room” so thickly with bird-lime, that the respected
individual in question had the greatest difficulty in ever getting out
of it again. In short, he became the torment of the house, and everybody
wished most devoutly that he had never been born.
The only consolation was that, somehow or other, he selected Martha
Scweinvolt as his principal victim. That woman’s life became a burden to
her. Her thimble was constantly missing, and, when put on hastily, was
more than once full of tar or glue, cunningly placed therein by the
malicious urchin. “Booby-traps” were constantly set for her, in the
shape of heavy books or jugs of water skilfully balanced on the top of
the door of the Baroness’s room, which was then left just ajar, and
the bell hastily rung, so that, coming down-stairs and entering the
apartment in a hurry, she was sure to get the benefit of the jug or
books upon her devoted head. These tricks, however, were by no means
his worst. The supposed young Baron, in his visits to the housekeeper’s
room, never missed the chance of paying attention to Martha’s comfort
after his own peculiar fashion. He put salt in her beer when her
head was turned; slyly inserted needles in her bread, which more than
{070}once proved nearly fatal to the woman; and upon one occasion
doctored her tea with some drugs which he had abstracted from his
mother’s medicine-chest, and which produced serious and most unpleasant
results. Not content with these practical jokes, the urchin never spared
the feelings of anybody, and Martha was oftentimes almost goaded
to madness by his insulting remarks upon her personal appearance,
disposition, and situation in life. As time went on, matters seemed to
get rather worse than better, and the wretched woman experienced to her
cost that revenge, sweet as it may be, cannot be purchased without a
heavy sacrifice.
While these things were passing in the castle of Bandelboots, the
question may not unnaturally be asked of me what had become of the real
child, the unfortunate young Hubert, who had been carried away by the
river-demon. It may easily be supposed that his was no pleasant fate.
Fortunately for him, those who had taken him from his happy home had
no power either to kill or injure him, neither could they alter the
goodness of his natural disposition. The latter, however, rendered his
condition somewhat more uncomfortable than would otherwise have been the
case, for being forced to consort with witches, demons, imps, and other
low and disreputable society, he was constantly brought into contact
with many things and people most disagreeable and revolting to anything
pure and good. He was obliged to attend the “bad language class” of
the water-imps, where prizes were given for swearing and wicked
conversation; the art of tormenting was taught him by an elderly demon,
to whom the task was congenial; and general instruction in devilry was
afforded him {071}by means of public lectures delivered by a spirit
specially appointed for the purpose. Such, however, was his natural
goodness, that he steadily refused to be perverted, maintaining a
dignified silence amid the jesting and ribaldry of the imps around, and
invariably declining to join in any of their misconduct.
All that the demons could do, under the circumstances, was to alter,
without permanently injuring, the form with which he had entered the
world. This they did by giving to his well-shaped body the appearance of
a round and ill-made bulk, upon which they placed a bullet-head with a
pair of short horns over the forehead, and ornamented it, moreover, with
a long tail and a pair of bat’s wings. Thus being changed into a regular
little devilet, it was marvellous that the boy should have continued to
preserve the goodness and purity of his disposition. So it was, however;
and as demons who live by tempting mortals to sin have a very large
field over which to practise their skill, and cannot afford to devote to
any one individual more than a fair share of their attention, they got
tired after a while of trying it on with the young Baron, and ended
by leaving him very much to himself. Then it was that the boy found
amusement in flying about along the banks of the river.
By the mysterious laws of magic, he knew, and yet did not know, the
misfortune which had befallen him, and the crime of which he had been
made the victim. In other words, he knew that something was as it should
not be, and that, somehow or other, he had been cruelly wronged, but
of the exact nature of the wrong he was as yet ignorant. Still, some
instinct led him to the lake in which was situated the island upon which
stood his father’s {072}castle, and he loved better than anything else
to fly by night round and round the old place, uttering from time to
time mournful cries, which now and then found their way to the ears
of some of the Baron’s household. Whenever the false heir heard these
sounds, it was noticed that he, shivered terribly, and crept, groaning
and growling; under the nearest sofa, or anywhere out of sight.
And upon one occasion, when the cry sounded louder and clearer than
usual, and there came a noise as if a wing--had flapped against window
of the state-room in which the family were assembled that evening, he
howled miserably, the ground, and almost went into convulsions with
alarm.
[Illustration: 085]
This behaviour on the part of his supposed son struck the Baron as
strange, and was, indeed, the cause of some coldness between him and his
wife. For, being a man somewhat proud of the chivalry and courage of
his high ancestry, this display of cowardice on the part of his
{073}probable heir and successor greatly irritated the old gentleman,
and he boldly declared that he was sure it all came from the mother’s
side. Such an accusation naturally put the Baroness into one of her
passions, in the course of which she went so far as to pull off her
husband’s wig and slap his cheeks. This indignity was one to which the
Baron could scarcely be expected to submit, and having soundly shaken
his respected consort, he left the room in high dudgeon, and took his
meals alone for the next three days, which annoyed the Baroness more
than anything else, as it left her only her daughters and servants to
scold, which had become rather insipid. After a while this conduct of
the child was set down to constitutional timidity, and the Baron only
smiled contemptuously when it was repeated.
So time wore on, and it really seemed as if there was no reason why the
truth should ever be discovered, or the success of Martha Scweinvolt’s
wicked scheme be otherwise than complete. It was not, however, wholly
satisfactory to the waiting-maid herself, for, independently of the
unpleasant behaviour of the false heir towards her, she had not even the
satisfaction of seeing her mistress suffer as she had hoped. So it is
that people who consult demons, or, what is nearly as bad, follow the
dictates of their own evil passions, are generally deceived in the
result, and find that the good to themselves which they expected to
obtain pretty certainly ends in disappointment.
Although the Baroness had at first declared that the child brought to
her by Sophie Grutchen on that eventful morning was not her own, she
had become reconciled to the state of things in a marvellously short
{074}time, fancied that, after all, she must have been under some
delusion, and in a very few days took kindly to the infant. As he grew
up, her fondness for him increased, and, in spite of what has been so
often said and written about the unfailing instinct of a mother, she
firmly believed him to be her own son. Instead, therefore, of her
heart-strings being wrung, as Martha had charitably hoped would have
been the case, she was by no means unhappy. True it is, she suffered
somewhat from the urchin’s behaviour, but, when it did not happen
to affect her own personal comfort, she took his part against the
complaints of others, stood up for him when the Baron found fault, and
scarcely ever endeavoured to check him in his mischievous and tormenting
ways.
Thus did Martha find that she had brought a plague upon herself without
really securing her revenge, and that the only person who had been
punished was the innocent child against whom she had borne no grudge.
This was by no means a pleasant reflection, and in some natures would
have produced a repentance for the evil done, and a sincere desire to
undo it if possible. I regret to be obliged to state that this was by no
means the case with Martha. On the contrary, her desire for revenge was
unappeased, and the more she discovered that she had failed, the more
she resolved that she would, somehow or other, ultimately succeed. With
this view, therefore, she once more sought the river side, and summoned
to her aid her former friend the water-demon.
As there was nothing attractive in her appearance, or delightful in her
society, the demon, who knew moreover {075}that his hold upon her was
sufficiently secure to make it a matter of indifference to him whether
she committed any more crimes or not, did not come until she had adjured
him by many entreaties and employed all the incantations of which
she was the mistress. When at last he appeared, he treated her with
contemptuous coldness, and derided her complaints that she had not
enjoyed her promised revenge. In fact he told her, in so many words,
that he had fulfilled his part of the bargain, and that she had no
business to trouble him any more.
Most people would have taken this for a final answer, but Martha was not
disposed to be put off after such a fashion. She told the demon that she
was quite ready to own that he had done what he had promised, although
the result had not been so satisfactory as she had been led to expect.
She had, however, another plan, in which she required his assistance,
and put it plainly to him, as a well-bred devil, whether he could refuse
a lady under the peculiar circumstances of the case. Besides, she said,
there would be crime committed by other persons, and possibly misery
to many, if her plan could be carried out, and these should be powerful
inducements to any right-minded demon, who understood the interests of
his class, to render his willing and active assistance.
Her plan, then, was to stir up the neighbouring peasants and shepherds
to revolt against the Baron. By constantly dinning into their ears
stories of the lazy and useless life he led, and the abominable temper
and tyranny of the Baroness, Martha had little doubt that a spirit of
disaffection might be excited among these ignorant {076}people which she
would eventually be able to turn to good account. If she could induce
them to rise against the Baron, and suddenly attack the castle, she
would take good care that the Baroness should not escape; and even if
the movement was not successful, she would be able in the confusion to
wreak her revenge, by dagger or poison, upon her hated mistress. Such an
attempt, in any case, could not fail to be productive of much evil and
discomfort to one side or the other, and must, therefore, be a scheme
which should at once recommend itself to the individual whom she was
addressing.
The demon listened with attention to Martha’s speech, and at its
conclusion warmly complimented her upon the fertility of her brain,
and expressed his candid opinion that she deserved to have been a demon
herself. He owned that he felt bound, as a gentleman and a devil, to
give her every assistance in his power, and asked her several questions
as to the manner in which she thought he could be of most use in
furthering her views. The waiting-maid replied that her only fear was
as to her being able to persuade the people to take her advice and
rise against the Baron. The old feudal principle still lurked in their
breasts, and although they were certainly poor they were tolerably
honest, and having been generally treated with kindness by the
inhabitants of the castle, might possibly be weak enough to entertain
towards them sentiments of affection and gratitude.
The demon, however, who knew better than Martha how little of either of
these feelings exists in the heart of man, smiled a contemptuous smile
at her ignorance of human nature, and told her that she need feel no
uneasiness {077}upon the point. He added, however, that as she doubted
her persuasive powers, he would give her such valuable aid as would
materially improve her chances of success. He would forthwith speak to
two highly respectable wehr-wolves of his acquaintance, who would be
ready, for his sake, to accompany her whenever she went out among the
peasants. By following her closely, these animals would add to the
estimation in which the ignorant rustics would hold her, and although
they would not speak when she was in the company of other mortals, they
would give her many private hints which she would find immeasurably
useful in persuading those with whom she would have to do.
Much gratified by this assurance, Martha wended her way homewards in
better spirits than she had enjoyed for some time past, and was even
able to smile contemptuously when she found that the young Baron had
taken the opportunity of her absence to put a hedgehog in her bed, and
empty a bottle of castor oil into her best Sunday boots. She lost no
time in commencing operations, and almost every afternoon walked out
into the country to spread disaffection among the people.
At first, it is true, she was rather frightened at the appearance of the
wehr-wolves, whom the demon had been as good as his word in sending to
meet her. They always waited for her at the corner of a neighbouring
wood, and accompanied her to the cottages of the peasants. After a short
time she began to hold small meetings of the latter, at which she held
forth concerning the wrongs they suffered at the hands of the Baron: how
shameful it was that _he_ should be so rich and _they_ so poor, and how
one man was just as good as another.
She {078}always took care to wind up by attributing much of their
particular miseries to the bad influence of the Baroness, whom she
denounced as an upholder of everything bad, a cruel tyrant in her
household, and altogether a monster of iniquity. As she lectured in this
way, one of the wehr-wolves generally sat just behind her and the other
at the other end of the room, and the presence of these animals made a
vast impression upon the ignorant peasants. In this manner, little by
little, the wicked Martha obtained considerable influence over the poor
people, who became gradually more and more moody and discontented, until
at last they really came to look upon the Baron as a hateful tyrant, and
regarded the Baroness as a monster in human form.
[Illustration: 091]
While all these things were going on, you must not suppose, Brother
Thames, that evil was allowed to enjoy an uninterrupted triumph in
Rhineland. I am glad to be able to say that such has never been the
case for long; and that although my stream has always been more or
less troubled by demons, imps, devilets, and water-rats {079}(which are
nearly as bad), it has never been without a redeeming element in the
shape of good fairies, nymphs, and an occasional stray mermaid, come up
from the sea for change of air and scenery. These creatures have, from
time to time, performed many acts of kindness to mankind, and when the
powers of evil have proved too strong for them for a time, they have now
and then requested me to interfere.
In the present instance a strong deputation of nymphs waited upon me,
and brought before me a particular part of the case which I am now about
to enter upon. Among those persons who were most greatly plagued by the
false heir, were his three supposed sisters, the elder children of the
Baron and Baroness von Bandelboots. These young ladies were endowed
with considerable personal attractions, and were girls of whom a brother
might well have been proud. Dora, Bertha, and Elladine were the names of
the three, and up to the time of the changing of the children they
had lived lives as happy and contented as was compatible with the
ever-varying temper of their worthy mother. They were quite young,
indeed, when the event occurred which so destroyed the comfort of the
Bandelboots household, and at the time at which I have now arrived in my
narration were just budding into womanhood, three as fair flowers as you
would wish to see. Their young devilet of a brother, or rather he who
was supposed to be their brother, contrived to make their existence
perfectly miserable; and as the Baroness invariably took his part
against them, their lives at last became positively unendurable.
It was not only that a chignon was constantly hidden or {080}stolen just
when it was wanted, stays were mysteriously cut, gloves spoiled, best
bonnets crammed up the chimney, and best boots deposited in the bath.
These discomforts were unpleasant enough, but the little wretch went far
beyond them. He pinched and nipped the poor girls whenever he met them,
trod on their toes suddenly, drew away their chairs just as they were
about to sit down, and put rhubarb and magnesia into their five o’clock
tea. Moreover, he carried all kinds of tales about them to the Baroness,
and told falsehood upon falsehood for the mere purpose of getting them
into disgrace. Then, when the Baroness inflicted punishment upon them,
he would jeer and taunt and tease the poor girls, rendering it doubly
disagreeable by his ill-natured and malicious joy. Nothing delighted
him so much as to see others suffer, and it seemed as if he lived
for nothing else save to procure as much misery as possible for his
neighbours.
This state of things gradually drove Dora, Bertha, and Elladine to
desperation; and, after many plans and consultations, they determined to
seek advice from some of the good spirits of my river. As it happened,
however, that, although they are very willing to give good advice and to
assist mortals whenever they can, my nymphs and fairies are restrained
by etiquette from active interference with the demons in those parts
of the river especially appropriated to the latter, the good creatures
thought it better to bring the matter before me; and on being consulted
by the young ladies, the nymph who saw them upon the subject told them
to come again at a certain time, before which she waited upon me, as I
have said, with a deputation.
When {081}the case had been fairly represented to me, I saw at once that
it was one in which something should be done, and I accordingly promised
that if the three young persons would bathe together at a certain spot
on the following morning, I would present myself before them and hear
their story.
[Illustration: 094]
The time came, and I can assure you, Brother Thames, that in order to
inspire confidence in the breasts of the maidens, I made my appearance
as venerable as I could previous to my appearance before their
astonished eyes.
The {082}sweet creatures stood in the water clinging fondly to each
other, as they implored my assistance; and whilst I listened to their
artless tale of woe, I leaned my head upon my hand, and pondered deeply
over the best course to be taken in order to afford them that assistance
which I at once determined to render.
I was not long in making up my mind, and in resolving that the demons
should not be allowed to have things all their own way. However, as you
know very well, the laws of magic must not be broken, and it would never
have done for me to have rudely and suddenly exercised my superior power
in order to set matters right in the castle of Bandelboots. All I could
fairly do was to put mortals in the way of helping themselves, at the
same time interfering, if need should arise, with just as much exercise
of power as might be necessary. So, having spoken words of comfort
to the three girls, I told them to go home and try and bear their
misfortunes for three days more, and at the end of that time, if matters
were no better, they might again pay me a visit.
There was, as you may suppose, no improvement in their condition during
the appointed time. In fact, their supposed brother was, if possible,
rather worse than ever. He cut off a great bit of Bertha’s back hair,
stole up behind Elladine and boxed her ears violently, and finished up
by giving Dora’s pet canary to the cat, which he afterwards hung, as he
said, for the murder. It was no matter of surprise to me, then, when
the three maidens again presented themselves before me, weeping bitterly
over their many misfortunes and sorrows.
I no longer hesitated as to the course which I should pursue, {083}but
immediately changed the sisters into three magnificent swans, desiring
them to frequent as much as possible the lake on which their father’s
castle stood. This course, as you will readily perceive, had a double
effect of a most useful character. For one thing, it of course showed
the inhabitants of the castle that something was wrong, and aroused
both the Baron and Baroness to exertions for the recovery of their lost
daughters which would very likely result in their finding out from
the powers of magic something, as the lawyers say, “very much to their
advantage.” But above and beyond this was the circumstance that, as
swans are gifted with the miraculous power of seeing through magical
disguises, the young ladies would be perfectly certain to encounter and
recognise their real brother in some of his flittings over the lake, and
thus would eventually be brought about the consummation so devoutly to
be desired.