moved forward in the order which had been previously arranged. It was a
lovely evening; not a breath was stirring in the sky above, the moon was
shining clearly, and everything was calm and peaceful, save the hearts
of the wicked creatures who were plotting and endeavouring to accomplish
the utter ruin and destruction of the innocent mannikins. They,
meanwhile, would very likely have been taken by surprise if they had
been left to their own unassisted strength. Such was the simplicity of
their nature, that they suspected {195}no evil, even when preparations
against them were being made so actively and openly that they might
easily have guessed that mischief was brewing. Nevertheless, they paid
no attention whatever to what was going on, but played about just the
same as usual until the enemy had matured his plans and was almost ready
for action. Then, indeed, they were roused by the wise and powerful
protector whose authority they acknowledged.
The owl summoned them from their sports upon the very day for which the
witches had appointed the assault upon the castle, and informed them
that they must prepare to defend themselves against an enemy who was
about to attack them. He gave minute instructions as to what was to be
done, and how the castle was to be saved, if possible, from its enemies;
and pointed out to his subjects that upon the result of the combat their
happiness for the future, nay, their very lives, depended. Should the
witches be successful, the mannikins would be either killed or driven
away, unless, indeed, they suffered the still worse fate of being taken
prisoners, in which case they would probably be transformed into ugly
and loathsome creatures by their victorious enemies, whom they would
have to serve in abject and miserable slavery for the remainder of their
existence. It therefore behoved them to be up and stirring, in order to
save themselves and their friends from so cruel a fate.
The little people required no further words in order to awaken their
martial enthusiasm: they had already suffered enough from the cruel and
unprovoked enmity of the witches, and this daring attempt to destroy
their beloved {196}home and themselves was enough to excite the spirit
of the quietest and most peaceable mannikin. So without delay they began
their preparations for resistance to the coming attack, and implicitly
obeyed the directions of their monarch in each and every particular.
They were hurrying to and fro all the day, but by nightfall all was
ready, and the inhabitants of the castle awaited with calmness and
confidence the approach of the hostile army.
The wood around the castle seemed alive that night. The eyes of the
numerous creeping animals glittered like fireballs as they crawled
through the leaves, and the rustling of the bats’ wings sounded like the
wind among the trees as they hastened forward. On all sides the castle
was surrounded by its enemies, and the witches gave the signal for an
immediate assault. With marvellous rapidity the snakes glided in at
every hole and crevice of the old walls; the rats scampered up them in
every direction, squeaking violently; whilst the hoarse croaking of the
frogs, mingled with the spitting of the toads, sounded fearfully through
the forest in the stillness of that summer’s night.
The attacking party found their first obstacle to be one of an
unexpected character. Hardly had any of the snakes insinuated his
wriggling body into a hole before he found that it was in every instance
full of minute fragments of broken glass, with the sharp points upwards,
which so lacerated his skin that he could hardly move backwards or
forwards without considerable pain, and some of those who had dashed
forward with the greatest impetuosity, so injured themselves in
the passage that they never reached the interior of the castle, but
{197}remained fixed in the holes which they had attempted to pass,
lingering until sunset next day (at which time alone snakes can die),
and then perishing miserably. The rats found a similar difficulty, but,
being resolute and crafty, ran over the walls where they could not creep
through, and arrived in the courtyard of the castle without losing any
considerable number of their forces. But the toads and frogs had a rough
time of it. To them it would have been a long and tedious business to
climb over the walls, and the few breaches which were left temptingly
open and undefended on their side of the attack were the only mode of
entrance which they could try with any hopes of success. These, however,
were entirely flooded with liquid tar, which the mannikins had poured
with great care upon the flat stones and hard ground, and which caused
the attacking party the greatest possible difficulty, a great many of
them remaining fast stuck in the disagreeable mixture, until death by
starvation terminated their sufferings. After a time, however, by dint
of clambering over each other’s bodies, a large number of them succeeded
in obtaining an entrance, and the courtyards of the castle were filled
with noxious creatures of all sorts.
All this time not a mannikin had shown himself, and no visible sign,
other than the obstacles which I have mentioned, had been given that the
castle was defended by any one. The witches, who of course were close
at hand, scarcely liked the ominous silence which prevailed on the part
of their enemies; there was something mysterious about it which they did
not understand. They knew, however, that their friends within must not
be left unsupported, and accordingly sounded the advance {198}of the
reserve. Mother Wandle, heading a large force of bats, flew gallantly
forward on one side; Dame Stokes, with a body of Cats and evil animals,
charged on the other; whilst old Goody Tickleback hovered about close
by on her awful steed, surrounded by the hooded crows and other wicked
birds who had joined the witches’ army; for the wary old woman, who knew
more about magic than any of her mates, had her own suspicions as to
the possible strength of the powers arrayed against her, and had always
determined from the first that she would throw as much of the hard work
of fighting as she could upon the others, and, Under pretence of keeping
a small force in reserve for contingencies, would remain outside the
walls of the owl’s castle. You will presently judge of her wisdom by the
events which followed.
Scarcely had the bats On one side, and the cats on the other, passed
the castle walls, when a voice, the loud and clear accents of which were
distinctly heard above the cries of the assaulting party, exclaimed,
“Light the gas!” and in another moment a blaze of light illuminated the
whole place with a brightness beyond that of the sun’s own rays. Every
corner and crevice was lighted up with wondrous brilliancy, and no
concealment was any longer possible for any mortal being. Then, in every
niche of the old walls, upon the old staircases, at the windows, and
on the crumbling ledges around, a quantity of armed mannikins were seen
standing ready for action, whilst one window alone remained unlit and
mysteriously dark, and there were those present who knew at that moment,
if they had never known before, that the owl who sat in that window was
a mighty magician, {199} and that a Power unseen and unfelt as yet, but
too terrible for evil witches and their followers, dwelt within those
old walls.
The effect of the light upon the unhappy bats was perfectly marvellous;
dazzled and blinded, they knew not what to do nor where to fly; some
dashed themselves up against the walls and put an end to their own
lives; others flew straight up to the mannikins, and fell an easy prey
to the latter, who, with their little swords drawn, stood ready to
strike down each foeman as he approached, and dealt stout blows upon the
blinded bats who came within their reach. Mother Wandle herself by no
means relished her reception; she was nearly overwhelmed by her own
retreating forces, and at the same time the light, to which she had a
great objection, annoyed her extremely, and she began to consider that
her best course would be to retreat as fast as possible. As she did so,
however, she felt, to her great disgust and horror, an invisible hand,
or rather claw, laid upon her neck, whilst a voice whispered in low but
perfectly audible tones close to her ear--
“Vile daughter of evil, who wast not afraid
The mighty Owl’s castle and home to invade,
Do thou and thy sisters look well to this text--.
_A whipping the first time; beware of the next!_”
And, as the voice ceased, the claw was loosened from her neck, and she
instantly felt upon her bat’s body severe strokes as of a birch-rod
aimed by the strong arm and unerring eye of a resolute head-master:
quick and sharp the blows descended upon the luckless old hag, and as
the skin of a witch (these creatures being, from the evil consciences
which prevent their getting fat, {200}rarely burdened with much flesh)
is proverbially tender, she suffered considerably more than any of my
boys here at Eton would have done under similar circumstances. Mother
Wandle, however, shrieked and fled as fast as she could, followed by as
many of her bats as were destined to escape at all from that ill-fated
day.
Dame Stokes and her cats fared but little better on their side. Although
the light had not the same effect upon this party as upon the bats, they
found it exceedingly disagreeable, whilst there was something else which
affected their nerves even in a still greater degree. The mannikins who
stood upon a portion of the inner walls of the castle exactly opposite
to that outer wall upon which the cats had climbed to the assault,
opened upon the latter a fire, so to speak, of a novel character. They
had arranged and brought to bear upon this part of the wall several
garden watering-engines of great power, numerous squirts, and the
special engine of the Windsor Fire Brigade of that day. By means of
these instruments they received the invaders with such a continuous
volley and volume of water as would have checked persons to whom the
element is more agreeable than is the case with cats. These animals
have, as is well known to the student of natural history, an instinctive
aversion to wetting their fur. Under the peculiar circumstances of the
case, they might have put up with a shower of rain, or have endured a
casual wetting, followed by facilities for drying themselves immediately
afterwards. But to be received by a heavy and violent shower of water
right in their faces, drenching them at once through and through,
{201}and being immediately repeated, and continued without any
intermission, was more than the bravest cat could bear; and as soon as
they found what kind of reception they were to experience, no thought of
shame or disgrace deterred the feline contingent from turning tail and
retreating as fast as ever they could by the same way they had come,
only some twenty or thirty dropping down within the castle wall. As they
fled in this manner, the same mysterious voice whispered to Dame
Stokes the identical words of warning which had greeted the ears of her
sister-witch, Mother Wandle; and although, having assumed no other
form than her own, her sex might have protected her from so great
an indignity, I grieve to say that precisely the same punishment was
administered to the old creature, and that so efficaciously that she
presently fled, shrieking and rubbing herself with pain as she left the
castle, which she devoutly wished she had never entered.
The results which I have just described occupied barely ten minutes,
and within a quarter of an hour the three witches, with their attendant
bats, cats, hooded crows, and other animals who had constituted the
reserve, were in full flight from the castle. A certain number of the
snakes also made their escape in a curious manner. A strange-looking
being, in the shape of a man, with a huge vessel before him, had
mysteriously appeared near the castle wall just as the assault began,
and as soon as it was plain that the day was going against the attacking
party, he gathered up as many of the snakes as he could from their
painful position on and about the walls, filled the aforesaid vessel
with them (handling them all the while with the greatest tenderness),
and throwing it on his {202}shoulders, joined the witches in their
headlong flight, keeping up with them in a manner which would have been
marvellous, had not his love for the reptiles under whose form mankind
was first tempted to sin, his wild glances, and, above all, the tail
with which he was adorned, shown pretty clearly that he was Someone
whom no good people can think of without hoping he is very far from
themselves.
[Illustration: 219]
As the most formidable of their adversaries thus dashed off in headlong
flight from the castle, a ringing cheer arose from the mannikins within,
and a clear hoot of triumph proceeding from the owl {203}evinced his
sympathy with the victory of his subjects and friends.
All, however, was not over yet. A certain quantity of snakes, who had
either wriggled through holes in which the broken glass had been
less plentifully strewn, or the superior toughness of whose skin had
protected them better than that of their comrades, were still hissing
frightfully in the outer courtyard, which was also occupied by a
considerable number of rats, frogs, and toads. These evil creatures,
being left without the guidance of the witches who had lured them to the
place, were in considerable difficulty what, to do, and their alarm and
horror were great indeed when, loud sounding through the air, the
same voice which had given orders for the lighting up of the castle
pronounced the following words:--
“Those who have sought to enter here,
Protected by the witches’ charm,
May learn that nought can interfere
With power of Owl to work them harm.
Within this castle’s sacred wall,
Though mighty may the witches seem,
Their magic has no might at all--
The Owl and Nature reign supreme.
So, creatures foul, who crouch below,
Your usual instincts quickly take;
Cats, recognise your rat-like foe;
Frogs, tremble at the fangs of snake!”
Even as the voice ceased the creatures to whom the above words were
addressed seemed to feel their effects and to act at once upon the
instructions given. Without any delay, the cats who had dropped down
inside the castle walls on receiving the watery deluge with which the
mannikins had greeted them, rushed with fury upon the {204}unhappy rats
whom they saw before them, apparently forgetful of everything except
those natural instincts which led them to destroy and eat animals whom
they had ever been accustomed to regard as fit objects wherewith to
satisfy their hungry appetites. At the same instant it seemed to strike
the snakes that a perfectly legitimate opportunity had arisen for
feasting upon those frogs who were congregated in their immediate
vicinity, and, acting at once upon the idea, they commenced to swallow
the wretched creatures without any unnecessary delay.
The mannikins calmly looked down meanwhile, and watched their enemies
destroying each other until there was scarcely a live rat or frog left
in the place, and the toads had fled frantically into the wood for fear
the snakes should mistake them for frogs and they should be subjected to
a fate from which all their dabblings in magic art might not have been
able to preserve them. When the cries of the devouring and devoured
creatures below had pretty well ceased, and few save cats and snakes
were any longer to be seen in the courtyard, the owl gave a signal at
which the mannikins turned on the water which, unknown to any person
save themselves and their master, had been laid on to supply the castle
in case of fire, and which by a judicious arrangement of pipes could be
made to flood the courtyard at pleasure. The gorged cats and snakes were
unable to make any effort to escape, although the latter might probably
have swum safely off, many of them being water-snakes, and entertaining
no great objection to the element. But, alas for them! there was
one little circumstance which entirely prevented it. The _water was
boiling_; {205}having been conducted through the kitchen of the castle,
the large boilers of which had, by the owl’s orders, been carefully
heated for the occasion. The shrieks of the wretched animals were
dreadful to hear, when they became aware of the trap in which they had
been Caught and the cruel fate which awaited them, from which escape
was hopeless. They strove in vain to clamber up the walls or to creep
through the holes; wherever they succeeded in raising themselves up from
the water on to the walls, the mannikins with drawn swords and fierce
looks relentlessly pushed them back into the hot bath below, so that,
after a space of some twenty minutes or so, any person who desired a
meal of boiled cat and snake-sauce might have been easily accommodated,
and every one of the wretched creatures had perished.
Thus the castle was rid of the last of its invaders, and the mannikins
had only to let the water off, which they did by means of a large sewer
underneath the courtyard, the stone covering of which having been lifted
by means of a spring worked from above, the bodies of the slain were
washed below, and all traces of the battle and its victims were swept
away from that part of the castle in an incredibly short space of time.
Victory, entire and complete, now rested with the defenders of the
castle, and their joy may he easily imagined. Not a mannikin had been
slain or hurt, so effectually had they been protected by the power of
the great owl, and the defeat and loss which had been inflicted upon
their enemies had been of a character to prevent, or at all events
greatly to lessen, the probability of any future attacks.
The {206}little people passed the rest of the night in the most sensible
and proper way possible; that is to say, they put out the lights and
went to bed, which is a thing which every reasonable creature should do
at a proper hour, unless he happens to be desirous of weakening mind and
body by depriving both of their natural rest, and thereby shortening the
term of his existence.
The mannikins were astir early the next morning, putting everything
to rights after the confusion of the night’s adventures. The glass
was carefully picked out of the holes in the wall, the courtyards were
cleaned, the bodies of those of the enemy who had fallen outside
were decently buried, and the whole place resumed its former peaceful
appearance within a very few hours. Then the mannikins returned to their
usual lives; their swords were put away, their angry feelings forgotten,
and their time spent in singing, dancing, and merriment as heretofore.
Meanwhile the three witches were in a frame of mind by no means
enviable. Dame Stokes and Mother Wandle still smarted considerably from
the effects of the severe whipping which they had each received; and
although Goody Tickleback had, by her superior cunning, escaped that
disagreeable punishment, she suffered bitterly from mortified vanity and
disappointment at having been so entirely defeated in the attack which
she had planned against the castle of the mannikins. The three old women
took counsel together as to whether there was anything more to be done
against those whom they chose to consider their deadly enemies, or
whether they had better give it up as a bad job. Evil, however, never
sleeps or remains quiet if it can possibly help it, and {207}so strong
was the spirit of evil’s power over these wretched creatures that they
felt themselves constrained to go on with their wicked work, and to plot
and scheme something more against the innocent objects of their hatred.
Their proceedings, however, had been rendered somewhat more difficult by
the total failure which they had just experienced. They found the cats
resolute in their refusal to embark in any further enterprises of a
similar character to the last. The toads glared and spat dreadfully
from fright when the subject was merely alluded to; and as to the rats,
snakes, and frogs, they had suffered so heavily in the recent disaster
that it was impossible to expect that anything short of absolute
compulsion would induce a single one of them to take the field.
Under these circumstances the witches had recourse to the stoats and
polecats, who were a fierce and bloodthirsty race, and might be of
essential service if they could be persuaded to undertake the matter.
Indeed, Goody Tickleback bit her lips with vexation at having forgotten
to secure these powerful allies before, as she felt that they would have
materially contributed to the strength of her former expedition, and
consequently to its chance of success. Accordingly, having bribed them
with large promises of tender young rabbits, and having paid a portion
of the bribe in advance, which the cunning creatures insisted upon as a
condition of their doing anything at all, the wicked old women succeeded
in bringing a considerable army of stoats into the field, together with
a small but compact band of polecats. The wily dames had sorely tempted
the foxes and badgers of Windsor forest, but the former animals made
various {208}excuses, and the latter, having consulted a famous old
badger who lived at that time in the Brocas clump, declined altogether
to have anything to do with the matter. So the three witches led forth
their army, composed only of the animals I have mentioned, and arranged
to cross the river upon a certain evening. The particular place upon
which they had fixed to cross was at a considerable distance from any
bridge, and some of these animals therefore had to swim, whilst those
who could not or would not do so were provided with boats and rafts
constructed by the magic powers of the old women. They themselves
flew over in the usual manner, one as a bat, another on her famous
broomstick, and the third on her awful steed. Then they stood on the
opposite bank, awaiting their army, who, when they had finished all
their preparations, sharpened their teeth and claws, and made other
necessary arrangements, plunged into the river, and began to follow
their leaders.
And now occurred one of the most singular scenes which it has ever been
my good fortune to witness since I first presided over the destinies of
this noble river. I have seen a great many strange things and people,
Brother Rhine, and been a spectator of a great many curious sights.
Moreover, during a long period of years, I have carefully inquired into
and studied the natural habits and ways of living which distinguish the
numerous animals, birds, and beasts which inhabit the banks and waters
of my stream, in all of whom, indeed, I have ever taken that lively
interest which becomes a person in my position. But I may as well
frankly tell you at once that nothing ever astonished me more than the
scene which followed the attempt of the stoats and polecats to cross
{209}the river in order to attack the owl’s castle. They got nearly
half-way across without anybody offering to dispute their passage. Then,
all of a sudden, a strange, wild sound was heard, and a song was borne
down upon the breeze which I knew full well as the war-song of the noble
swans who honour my river by making it their home, and who are well
known as the finest and handsomest swans in all Christendom.
“The swan swam up the stream;
Swim, swan, swim!
The swan swam down again;
Well swam, swan!”