SOUR AND CIVIL
"Once upon a time there stood upon the sea-coast of the west country a
certain hamlet of low cottages, where no one lived but fishermen. All
round it was a broad beach of snow-white sand, where nothing was to be
seen but gulls and cormorants, and long tangled seaweeds cast up by the
tide that came and went night and day, summer and winter. There was no
harbour nor port on all that shore. Ships passed by at a distance, with
their white sails set, and on the land-side there lay wide grassy downs,
where peasants lived and shepherds fed their flocks. The fishermen
thought themselves as well off as any people in that country. Their
families never wanted for plenty of herrings and mackerel; and what they
had to spare the landsmen bought from them at certain village markets on
the downs, giving them in exchange butter, cheese, and corn.
"The two best fishermen in that village were the sons of two old widows,
who had no other children, and happened to be near neighbours. Their
family names were short, for they called the one Sour, and the other
Civil. There was no relationship between them that ever I heard of; but
they had only one boat, and always fished together, though their names
expressed the difference of their humours--for Civil never used a hard
word where a soft one would do, and when Sour was not snarling at
somebody, he was sure to be grumbling at everything.
"Nevertheless they agreed wonderfully, and were lucky fishers. Both were
strong, active, and of good courage. On winter's night or summer's
morning they would steer out to sea far beyond the boats of their
neighbours, and never came home without some fish to cook and some to
spare. Their mothers were proud of them, each in her own fashion--for
the saying held good, 'Like mother, like son.' Dame Civil thought the
whole world didn't hold a better than her son; and her boy was the only
creature at whom Dame Sour didn't scold and frown. The hamlet was
divided in opinion concerning the young fishermen. Some thought Civil
the best; some said, without Sour he would catch nothing. So things went
on, till one day about the fall of winter, when mists were gathering
darkly on sea and sky, and the air was chill and frosty, all the boatmen
of the hamlet went out to fish, and so did Sour and Civil.
"That day they had not their usual luck. Cast their net where they
would, not a single fish came in. Their neighbours caught boatsful, and
went home, Sour said, laughing at them. But when the sea was growing
crimson with the sunset their nets were empty, and they were tired.
Civil himself did not like to go home without fish--it would damage the
high repute they had gained in the village. Besides, the sea was calm
and the evening fair, and, as a last attempt, they steered still further
out, and cast their nets beside a rock which rose rough and grey above
the water, and was called the Merman's Seat--from an old report that the
fishermen's fathers had seen the mermen, or sea-people, sitting there on
moonlight nights. Nobody believed that rumour now, but the villagers did
not like to fish there. The water was said to be deep beyond measure,
and sudden squalls were apt to trouble it; but Sour and Civil were right
glad to see by the moving of their lines that there was something in
their net, and gladder still when they found it so heavy that all their
strength was required to draw it up. Scarcely had they landed it on the
Merman's Seat, when their joy was changed to disappointment, for besides
a few starved mackerel, the net contained nothing but a monstrous ugly
fish as long as Civil (who was taller than Sour), with a huge snout, a
long beard, and a skin covered with prickles.
"'Such a horrid ugly creature!' said Sour, as they shook it out of the
net on the rough rock, and gathered up the mackerel. 'We needn't fish
here any more. How they will mock us in the village for staying out so
late, and bringing home so little!'
"'Let us try again,' said Civil, as he set his creel of mackerel in the
boat.
"'Not another cast will I make to-night;' and what more Sour would have
said, was cut short by the great fish, for, looking round at them, it
spoke out--
"'I suppose you don't think me worth taking home in your dirty boat; but
I can tell you that if you were down in my country, neither of you would
be thought fit to keep me company.'
"Sour and Civil were terribly astonished to hear the fish speak. The
first could not think of a cross word to say, but Civil made answer in
his accustomed manner.
"'Indeed, my lord, we beg your pardon, but our boat is too light to
carry such a fish as you.'
"'You do well to call me lord,' said the fish, 'for so I am, though it
was hard to expect you could have known my quality in this dress.
However, help me off the rock, for I must go home; and for your civility
I will give you my daughter in marriage, if you will come and see me
this day twelvemonth.'
"Civil helped the great fish off the rock as respectfully as his fear
would allow him. Sour was so terrified at the whole transaction, that
he said not a word till they got safe home; but from that day forward,
when he wanted to put Civil down, it was his custom to tell him and his
mother that he would get no wife but the ugly fish's daughter.
"Old Dame Sour heard this story from her son, and told it over the whole
village. Some people wondered, but the most part laughed at it as a good
joke; and Civil and his mother were never known to be angry but on that
occasion. Dame Civil advised her son never to fish with Sour again; and
as the boat happened to be his, Civil got an old skiff which one of the
fishermen was going to break up for firewood, and cobbled it up for
himself.
"In that skiff he went to sea alone all the winter, and all the summer;
but though Civil was brave and skilful, he could catch little, because
his boat was bad--and everybody but his mother began to think him of no
value. Sour having the good boat got a new comrade, and had the praise
of being the best fisherman.
"Poor Civil's heart was getting low as the summer wore away. The fish
had grown scarce on that coast, and the fishermen had to steer further
out to sea. One evening when he had toiled all day and caught nothing,
Civil thought he would go further too, and try his fortune beside the
Merman's rock. The sea was calm, and the evening fair; Civil did not
remember that it was the very day on which his troubles began by the
great fish talking to him twelve months before. As he neared the rock
the sun was setting, and much astonished was the fisherman to see upon
it three fair ladies, with sea-green gowns and strings of great pearls
wound round their long fair hair; two of them were waving their hands to
him. They were the tallest and stateliest ladies he had ever seen; but
Civil could perceive as he came nearer that there was no colour in their
cheeks, that their hair had a strange bluish shade, like that of deep
sea-water, and there was a fiery light in their eyes that frightened
him. The third, who was less of stature, did not notice him at all, but
kept her eyes fixed on the setting sun. Though her look was mournful,
Civil could see that there was a faint rosy bloom on her cheek--that her
hair was a golden yellow, and her eyes were mild and clear like those of
his mother.
[Illustration: Civil and the three sea maidens.]
"'Welcome! welcome! noble fisherman!' cried the two ladies. 'Our father
has sent us for you to visit him,' and with one bound they leaped into
his boat, bringing with them the smaller lady, who said--
"'Oh! bright sun and brave sky that I see so seldom!' But Civil heard no
more, for his boat went down miles deep in the sea, and he thought
himself drowning; but one lady had caught him by the right arm, and the
other by the left, and pulled him into the mouth of a rocky cave, where
there was no water. On they went, still down and down, as if on a steep
hill-side. The cave was very long, but it grew wider as they came to the
bottom. Then Civil saw a faint light, and walked out with his fair
company into the country of the sea-people. In that land there grew
neither grass nor flowers, bushes nor trees, but the ground was covered
with bright-coloured shells and pebbles. There were hills of marble, and
rocks of spar; and over all a cold blue sky with no sun, but a light
clear and silvery as that of the harvest moon. The fisherman could see
no smoking chimneys, but there were grottoes in the sparry rocks, and
halls in the marble hills, where lived the sea-people--with whom, as old
stories say, fishermen and mariners used to meet on lonely capes and
headlands in the simple times of the world.
"Forth they came in all directions to see the stranger. Mermen with long
white beards, and mermaids such as walk with the fishermen, all clad in
sea-green, and decorated with strings of pearls; but every one with the
same colourless face, and the same wild light in their eyes. The
mermaids led Civil up one of the marble hills to a great cavern with
halls and chambers like a palace. Their floors were of alabaster, their
walls of porphyry, and their ceilings inlaid with coral. Thousands of
crystal lamps lit the palace. There were seats and tables hewn out of
shining spar, and a great company sat feasting; but what most amazed
Civil was the quantity of cups, flagons, and goblets, made of gold and
silver, of such different shapes and patterns that they seemed to have
been gathered from all the countries in the world. In the chief hall
there sat a merman on a stately chair, with more jewels than all the
rest about him. Before him the mermaids brought Civil, saying--
"'Father, here is our guest.'
"'Welcome, noble fisherman!' cried the merman, in a voice which Civil
remembered with terror, for it was that of the great ugly fish; 'welcome
to our halls! Sit down and feast with us, and then choose which of my
daughters you will have for a bride.'
"Civil had never felt himself so thoroughly frightened in all his life.
How was he to get home to his mother? and what would the old dame think
when the dark night came without bringing him home? There was no use in
talking--Civil had wisdom enough to see that: he therefore tried to take
things quietly; and, having thanked the merman for his invitation, took
the seat assigned him on his right hand. Civil was hungry with the long
day at sea, but there was no want of fare on that table: meats and
wines, such as he had never tasted, were set before him in the richest
of golden dishes: but, hungry as he was, the fisherman perceived that
everything there had the taste and smell of the sea.
"If the fisherman had been the lord of lands and castles he would not
have been treated with more respect. The two mermaids sat by him--one
filled his plate, another filled his goblet; but the third only looked
at him in a stealthy, warning way when nobody perceived her. Civil soon
finished his share of the feast, and then the merman showed him all the
splendours of his cavern. The halls were full of company, some feasting,
some dancing, and some playing all manner of games, and in every hall
was the same abundance of gold and silver vessels; but Civil was most
astonished when the merman brought him to a marble chamber full of heaps
of precious stones. There were diamonds there whose value the fisherman
knew not--pearls larger than ever a diver had gathered--emeralds,
sapphires, and rubies, that would have made the jewellers of the world
wonder; the merman then said--
"'This is my eldest daughter's dowry.'
"'Good luck attend her!' said Civil. 'It is the dowry of a queen.' But
the merman led him on to another chamber: it was filled with heaps of
gold coin, which seemed gathered from all times and nations. The images
and inscriptions of all the kings that ever reigned were there; and the
merman said:
"'This is my second daughter's dowry.'
"'Good luck attend her!' said Civil. 'It is a dowry for a princess.'
"'So you may say,' replied the merman. 'But make up your mind which of
the maidens you will marry, for the third has no portion at all, because
she is not my daughter; but only, as you may see, a poor silly girl
taken into my family for charity.'
"'Truly, my lord,' said Civil, whose mind was already made up, 'both
your daughters are too rich and far too noble for me; therefore I
choose the third. Her poverty will best become my estate of a poor
fisherman.'
"'If you choose her,' said the merman, 'you must wait long for a
wedding. I cannot allow an inferior girl to be married before my own
daughters.' And he said a great deal more to persuade him; but Civil
would not change his mind, and they returned to the hall.
"There was no more attention for the fisherman, but everybody watched
him well. Turn where he would, master or guest had their eyes upon him,
though he made them the best speeches he could remember, and praised all
their splendours. One thing, however, was strange--there was no end to
the fun and the feasting; nobody seemed tired, and nobody thought of
sleep. When Civil's very eyes closed with weariness, and he slept on one
of the marble benches--no matter how many hours--there were the company
feasting and dancing away; there were the thousand lamps within, and the
cold moonlight without. Civil wished himself back with his mother, his
net, and his cobbled skiff. Fishing would have been easier than those
everlasting feasts; but there was nothing else among the sea-people--no
night of rest, no working day.
"Civil knew not how time went on, till, waking up from a long sleep, he
saw, for the first time, that the feast was over, and the company gone.
The lamps still burned, and the tables, with all their riches, stood in
the empty halls; but there was no face to be seen, no sound to be heard,
only a low voice singing beside the outer door; and there, sitting all
alone, he found the mild-eyed maiden.
"'Fair lady,' said Civil, 'tell me what means this quietness, and where
are all the merry company?'
"'You are a man of the land,' said the lady, 'and know not the
sea-people. They never sleep but once a year, and that is at Christmas
time. Then they go into the deep caverns, where there is always
darkness, and sleep till the new year comes.'
"'It is a strange fashion,' said Civil; 'but all folks have their way.
Fair lady, as you and I are to be good friends, tell me, whence come all
the wines and meats, and gold and silver vessels, seeing there are
neither cornfields nor flocks here, workmen nor artificers?'
"'The sea-people are heirs of the sea,' replied the maiden; 'to them
come all the stores and riches that are lost in it. I know not the ways
by which they come; but the lord of these halls keeps the keys of seven
gates, where they go out and in; but one of the gates, which has not
been open for thrice seven years, leads to a path under the sea, by
which, I heard the merman say in his cups, one might reach the land.
Good fisherman, if by chance you gain his favour, and ever open that
gate, let me bear you company; for I was born where the sun shines and
the grass grows, though my country and my parents are unknown to me. All
I remember is sailing in a great ship, when a storm arose, and it was
wrecked, and not one soul escaped drowning but me. I was then a little
child, and a brave sailor had bound me to a floating plank before he was
washed away. Here the sea-people came round me like great fishes, and I
went down with them to this rich and weary country. Sometimes, as a
great favour, they take me up with them to see the sun; but that is
seldom, for they never like to part with one who has seen their country;
and, fisherman, if you ever leave them, remember to take nothing with
you that belongs to them, for if it were but a shell or a pebble, that
will give them power over you and yours.'
"'Thanks for your news, fair lady,' said Civil. 'A lord's daughter,
doubtless, you must have been, while I am but a poor fisherman; yet, as
we have fallen into the same misfortune, let us be friends, and it may
be we shall find means to get back to the sunshine together.'
"'You are a man of good manners,' said the lady, 'therefore, I accept
your friendship; but my fear is that we shall never see the sunshine
again.'
"'Fair speeches brought me here,' said Civil, 'and fair speeches may
help me back; but be sure I will not go without you.'"
"This promise cheered the lady's heart, and she and Civil spent that
Christmas time seeing the wonders of the sea country. They wandered
through caves like that of the great merman. The unfinished feast was
spread in every hall; the tables were covered with most costly vessels;
and heaps of jewels lay on the floors of unlocked chambers. But for the
lady's warning, Civil would fain have put away some of them for his
mother.
"The poor woman was sad of heart by this time, believing her son to be
drowned. On the first night when he did not come home, she had gone down
to the sea and watched till morning. Then the fishermen steered out
again, and Sour having found his skiff floating about, brought it home,
saying, the foolish young man was doubtless lost; but what better could
be expected when he had no discreet person to take care of him?
"This grieved Dame Civil sore. She never expected to see her son again;
but, feeling lonely in her cottage at the evening hour when he used to
come home, the good woman accustomed herself to go down at sunset and
sit beside the sea. That winter happened to be mild on the coast of the
west country, and one evening when the Christmas time was near, and the
rest of the village preparing to make merry, Dame Civil sat, as usual,
on the sands. The tide was ebbing and the sun going down, when from the
eastward came a lady clad in black, mounted on a black palfrey, and
followed by a squire in the same sad clothing; as the lady came near,
she said--
"'Woe is me for my daughter, and for all that have lost by the sea!'
"'You say well, noble lady,' said Dame Civil. 'Woe is me also for my
son, for I have none beside him.'
"When the lady heard that, she alighted from her palfrey, and sat down
by the fisherman's mother, saying--
"'Listen to my story. I was the widow of a great lord in the heart of
the east country. He left me a fair castle, and an only daughter, who
was the joy of my heart. Her name was Faith Feignless; but, while she
was yet a child, a great fortune-teller told me that my daughter would
marry a fisherman. I thought this would be a great disgrace to my noble
family, and, therefore, sent my daughter with her nurse in a good ship,
bound for a certain city where my relations live, intending to follow
myself as soon as I could get my lands and castles sold. But the ship
was wrecked, and my daughter drowned; and I have wandered over the world
with my good Squire Trusty, mourning on every shore with those who have
lost friends by the sea. Some with whom I have mourned grew to forget
their sorrow, and would lament with me no more; others being sour and
selfish, mocked me, saying, my grief was nothing to them: but you have
good manners, and I will remain with you, however humble be your
dwelling. My squire carries gold enough to pay all our charges.' So the
mourning lady and her good Squire Trusty went home with Dame Civil, and
she was no longer lonely in her sorrow, for when the dame said--
"'Oh! if my son were alive, I should never let him go to sea in a
cobbled skiff!' the lady answered--
"'Oh! if my daughter were but living, I should never think it a disgrace
though she married a fisherman!'
"The Christmas passed as it always does in the west country--shepherds
made merry on the downs, and fishermen on the shore; but when the
merrymakings and ringing of bells were over in all the land, the
sea-people woke up to their continual feasts and dances. Like one that
had forgotten all that was past, the merman again showed Civil the
chamber of gold and the chamber of jewels, advising him to choose
between his two daughters; but the fisherman still answered that the
ladies were too noble, and far too rich for him. Yet as he looked at the
glittering heap, Civil could not help recollecting the poverty of the
west country, and the thought slipped out--
"'How happy my old neighbours would be to find themselves here!'
"'Say you so?' said the merman, who always wanted visitors.
"'Yes,' said Civil, 'I have neighbours up yonder in the west country
whom it would be hard to send home again if they got sight of half this
wealth;' and the honest fisherman thought of Dame Sour and her son.
"The merman was greatly delighted with these speeches--he thought there
was a probability of getting many land-people down, and by and by said
to Civil--
"'Suppose you took up a few jewels, and went up to tell your poor
neighbours how welcome we might make them?'
"The prospect of getting back to his country rejoiced Civil's heart, but
he had promised not to go without the lady, and therefore, answered
prudently what was indeed true--
"'Many thanks, my lord, for choosing such a humble man as I am to bear
your message; but the people of the west country never believe anything
without two witnesses at the least; yet if the poor maid whom I have
chosen could be permitted to accompany me, I think they would believe us
both.'
"The merman said nothing in reply, but his people, who had heard Civil's
speech, talked it over among themselves till they grew sure that the
whole west country would come down, if they only had news of the riches,
and petitioned their lord to send up Civil and the poor maid by way of
letting them know.
"As it seemed for the public good, the great merman consented; but,
being determined to have them back, he gathered out of his treasure
chamber some of the largest pearls and diamonds that lay convenient, and
said--
"'Take these as a present from me, to let the west country people see
what I can do for my visitors.'
"Civil and the lady took the presents, saying--
"'Oh, my lord, you are too generous. We want nothing but the pleasure of
telling of your marvellous riches up yonder.'
"'Tell everybody to come down, and they will get the like,' said the
merman; 'and follow my eldest daughter, for she carries the key of the
land gate.'
"Civil and the lady followed the mermaid through a winding gallery,
which led from the chief banquet hall far into the marble hill. All was
dark, and they had neither lamp nor torch, but at the end of the
gallery they came to a great stone gate, which creaked like thunder on
its hinges. Beyond that there was a narrow cave, sloping up and up like
a steep hill-side. Civil and the lady thought they would never reach the
top; but at last they saw a gleam of daylight, then a strip of blue sky,
and the mermaid bade them stoop and creep through what seemed a crevice
in the ground, and both stood up on the broad sea-beach as the day was
breaking and the tide ebbing fast away.
"'Good times to you among your west country people,' said the mermaid.
'Tell any of them that would like to come down to visit us, that they
must come here midway between the high and low water-mark, when the tide
is going out at morning or evening. Call thrice on the sea-people, and
we will show them the way.'
"Before they could make answer, she had sunk down from their sight, and
there was no track or passage there, but all was covered by the loose
sand and sea-shells.
"'Now,' said the lady to Civil, 'we have seen the heavens once more, and
we will not go back. Cast in the merman's present quickly before the sun
rises;' and taking the bag of pearls and diamonds, she flung it as far
as she could into the sea.
"Civil never was so unwilling to part with anything as that bag, but he
thought it better to follow a good example, and tossed his into the sea
also. They thought they heard a long moan come up from the waters; but
Civil saw his mother's chimney beginning to smoke, and with the fair
lady in her sea-green gown he hastened to the good dame's cottage.
"The whole village were woke up that morning with cries of 'Welcome
back, my son!' 'Welcome back, my daughter!' for the mournful lady knew
it was her lost daughter, Faith Feignless, whom the fisherman had
brought back, and all the neighbours assembled to hear their story. When
it was told, everybody praised Civil for the prudence he had shown in
his difficulties, except Sour and his mother: they did nothing but rail
upon him for losing such great chances of making himself and the whole
country rich. At last, when they heard over and over again of the
merman's treasures, neither mother nor son would consent to stay any
longer in the west country, and as nobody persuaded them, and they would
not take Civil's direction, Sour got out his boat and steered away with
his mother toward the Merman's Rock. From that voyage they never came
back to the hamlet. Some say they went down and lived among the
sea-people; others say--I know not how they learned it--that Sour and
his mother grumbled and growled so much that even the sea-people grew
weary of them, and turned them and their boat out on the open sea. What
part of the world they chose to land on nobody is certain: by all
accounts they have been seen everywhere, and I should not be surprised
if they were in this good company. As for Civil, he married Faith
Feignless, and became a great lord."
Here the voice ceased, and two that were clad in sea-green silk, with
coronets of pearls, rose up, and said--
"That's our story."
"Oh, mamma, if we could get down to that country!" said Princess
Greedalind.
"And bring all the treasures back with us!" answered Queen Wantall.
"Except the tale of yesterday, and the four that went before it, I have
not heard such a story since my brother Wisewit went from me, and was
lost in the forest," said King Winwealth. "Readyrein, the second of my
pages, rise, and bring this maiden a purple velvet mantle."
The mantle was brought, and Snowflower having thanked the king, went
down upon her grandmother's chair; but that night the little girl went
no further than the lowest banquet hall, where she was bidden to stay
and share the feast, and sleep hard by in a wainscot chamber. That she
was well entertained there is no doubt, for King Winwealth had been
heard to say that it was not clear to him how he could have got through
the seven days' feast without her grandmother's chair and its stories;
but next day being the last of the seven, things were gayer than ever in
the palace. The music had never been so merry, the dishes so rich, or
the wines so rare; neither had the clamours at the gate ever been so
loud, nor the disputes and envies so many in the halls.
Perhaps it was these doings that brought the low spirits earlier than
usual on King Winwealth, for after dinner his majesty fell into them so
deeply that a message came down from the highest banquet hall, and the
cupbearer told Snowflower to go up with her chair, for King Winwealth
wished to hear another story.
Now the little girl put on all her finery, from the pink shoes to the
purple mantle, and went up with her chair, looking so like a princess
that the whole company rose to welcome her. But having made her
courtesy, and laid down her head, saying, "Chair of my grandmother, tell
me a story," the clear voice from under the cushion answered--
"Listen to the Story of Merrymind."