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THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE KING OF THE
GOLDEN RIVER
OR THE
BLACK BROTHERS
A Legend of Stiria.
BY JOHN RUSKIN, M.A.
ILLUSTRATED BY RICHARD DOYLE.
BOSTON:
PUBLISHED BY GINN & COMPANY.
1885.
[Illustration]
ADVERTISEMENT.
The Publishers think it due to the Author of this Fairy Tale, to state
the circumstances under which it appears.
THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER was written in 1841, at the request of a
very young lady, and solely for her amusement, without any idea of
publication. It has since remained in the possession of a friend, to
whose suggestion, and the passive assent of the Author, the Publishers
are indebted for the opportunity of printing it.
The Illustrations, by Mr. Richard Doyle, will, it is hoped, be found to
embody the Author's ideas with characteristic spirit.
* * * * *
J. S. CUSHING & CO., PRINTERS, BOSTON.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
HOW THE AGRICULTURAL SYSTEM OF THE BLACK BROTHERS
WAS INTERFERED WITH BY SOUTH-WEST WIND, ESQUIRE 9
CHAPTER II.
OF THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE THREE BROTHERS AFTER THE
VISIT OF SOUTH-WEST WIND, ESQUIRE; AND HOW LITTLE
GLUCK HAD AN INTERVIEW WITH THE KING OF THE GOLDEN
RIVER 28
CHAPTER III.
HOW MR. HANS SET OFF ON AN EXPEDITION TO THE GOLDEN
RIVER, AND HOW HE PROSPERED THEREIN 40
CHAPTER IV.
HOW MR. SCHWARTZ SET OFF ON AN EXPEDITION TO THE
GOLDEN RIVER, AND HOW HE PROSPERED THEREIN 51
CHAPTER V.
HOW LITTLE GLUCK SET OFF ON AN EXPEDITION TO THE
GOLDEN RIVER, AND HOW HE PROSPERED THEREIN; WITH
OTHER MATTERS OF INTEREST 56
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
DESIGNED AND DRAWN ON WOOD BY RICHARD DOYLE
SUBJECTS. ENGRAVERS. PAGE
South-West Wind, Esq., knocking Frontis-
at the Black Brothers' door _C. Thurston Thompson_ piece.
The Treasure Valley _C. Thurston Thompson_ Title.
Initial Letter, and Mountain Range _G. and E. Dalziel_ 9
South-West Wind, Esq., seated on
the hob _G. and E. Dalziel_ 18
South-West Wind, Esq., bowing to
the Black Brothers _H. Orrin Smith_ 21
Storm Scene _G. and E. Dalziel_ 25
Card of South-West Wind, Esq. _H. Orrin Smith_ 27
Initial Letter, and Cottage in the
Treasure Valley _Isabel Thompson_ 28
The Black Brothers drinking and
Gluck working _C. S. Cheltnam_ 30
Gluck looking out at the Golden River _H. D. Linton_ 32
The Golden Dwarf appearing to Gluck _G. and E. Dalziel_ 36
Gluck looking up the Chimney _H. Orrin Smith_ 39
The Black Brothers beating Gluck _C. S. Cheltnam_ 40
Hans and Schwartz fighting _H. Orrin Smith_ 41
Schwartz before the Magistrate _C. S. Cheltnam_ 42
Hans and the Dog _H. Orrin Smith_ 47
The Black Stone _G. and E. Dalziel_ 50
Initial Letter--Gluck
releasing Schwartz _G. and E. Dalziel_ 51
Schwartz ascending the Mountain _H. Orrin Smith_ 53
Initial Letter--Gluck ascending the
Mountain _H. Orrin Smith_ 56
Priest giving Gluck Holy Water _G. and E. Dalziel_ 57
Gluck and the Child _C. S. Cheltnam_ 59
THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER;
OR,
THE BLACK BROTHERS.
CHAPTER I.
HOW THE AGRICULTURAL SYSTEM OF THE BLACK BROTHERS WAS INTERFERED WITH BY
SOUTH-WEST WIND, ESQUIRE.
[Illustration]
In a secluded and mountainous part of Stiria there was, in old time, a
valley of the most surprising and luxuriant fertility. It was
surrounded, on all sides, by steep and rocky mountains, rising into
peaks, which were always covered with snow, and from which a number of
torrents descended in constant cataracts. One of these fell westward,
over the face of a crag so high, that, when the sun had set to
everything else, and all below was darkness, his beams still shone full
upon this waterfall, so that it looked like a shower of gold. It was,
therefore, called by the people of the neighbourhood, the Golden River.
It was strange that none of these streams fell into the valley itself.
They all descended on the other side of the mountains, and wound away
through broad plains and by populous cities. But the clouds were drawn
so constantly to the snowy hills, and rested so softly in the circular
hollow, that in time of drought and heat, when all the country round was
burnt up, there was still rain in the little valley; and its crops were
so heavy, and its hay so high, and its apples so red, and its grapes so
blue, and its wine so rich, and its honey so sweet, that it was a marvel
to every one who beheld it, and was commonly called the Treasure Valley.
The whole of this little valley belonged to three brothers, called
Schwartz, Hans, and Gluck. Schwartz and Hans, the two elder brothers,
were very ugly men, with over-hanging eyebrows and small dull eyes,
which were always half shut, so that you couldn't see into _them_, and
always fancied they saw very far into _you_. They lived by farming the
Treasure Valley, and very good farmers they were. They killed everything
that did not pay for its eating. They shot the blackbirds, because they
pecked the fruit; and killed the hedgehogs, lest they should suck the
cows; they poisoned the crickets for eating the crumbs in the kitchen;
and smothered the cicadas, which used to sing all summer in the lime
trees. They worked their servants without any wages, till they would not
work any more, and then quarrelled with them, and turned them out of
doors without paying them. It would have been very odd, if with such a
farm, and such a system of farming, they hadn't got very rich; and very
rich they _did_ get. They generally contrived to keep their corn by them
till it was very dear, and then sell it for twice its value; they had
heaps of gold lying about on their floors, yet it was never known that
they had given so much as a penny or a crust in charity; they never went
to mass; grumbled perpetually at paying tithes; and were, in a word, of
so cruel and grinding a temper, as to receive from all those with whom
they had any dealings, the nickname of the "Black Brothers."
The youngest brother, Gluck, was as completely opposed, in both
appearance and character, to his seniors as could possibly be imagined
or desired. He was not above twelve years old, fair, blue-eyed, and kind
in temper to every living thing. He did not, of course, agree
particularly well with his brothers, or rather, they did not agree with
_him_. He was usually appointed to the honourable office of turnspit,
when there was anything to roast, which was not often; for, to do the
brothers justice, they were hardly less sparing upon themselves than
upon other people. At other times he used to clean the shoes, floors,
and sometimes the plates, occasionally getting what was left on them, by
way of encouragement, and a wholesome quantity of dry blows, by way of
education.
Things went on in this manner for a long time. At last came a very wet
summer, and everything went wrong in the country around. The hay had
hardly been got in, when the haystacks were floated bodily down to the
sea by an inundation; the vines were cut to pieces with the hail; the
corn was all killed by a black blight; only in the Treasure Valley, as
usual, all was safe. As it had rain when there was rain no where else,
so it had sun when there was sun no where else. Every body came to buy
corn at the farm, and went away pouring maledictions on the Black
Brothers. They asked what they liked, and got it, except from the poor
people, who could only beg, and several of whom were starved at their
very door, without the slightest regard or notice.
It was drawing towards winter, and very cold weather, when one day the
two elder brothers had gone out, with their usual warning to little
Gluck, who was left to mind the roast, that he was to let nobody in, and
give nothing out. Gluck sat down quite close to the fire, for it was
raining very hard, and the kitchen walls were by no means dry or
comfortable looking. He turned and turned, and the roast got nice and
brown. "What a pity," thought Gluck, "my brothers never ask any body to
dinner. I'm sure, when they've got such a nice piece of mutton as this,
and nobody else has got so much as a piece of dry bread, it would do
their hearts good to have somebody to eat it with them."
Just as he spoke, there came a double knock at the house door, yet heavy
and dull, as though the knocker had been tied up--more like a puff than
a knock.
"It must be the wind," said Gluck; "nobody else would venture to knock
double knocks at our door."
No; it wasn't the wind: there it came again very hard, and what was
particularly astounding, the knocker seemed to be in a hurry, and not to
be in the least afraid of the consequences. Gluck went to the window,
opened it, and put his head out to see who it was.
It was the most extraordinary looking little gentleman he had ever seen
in his life. He had a very large nose, slightly brass-coloured; his
cheeks were very round, and very red, and might have warranted a
supposition that he had been blowing a refractory fire for the last
eight-and-forty hours; his eyes twinkled merrily through long silky
eyelashes, his moustaches curled twice round like a corkscrew on each
side of his mouth, and his hair, of a curious mixed pepper-and-salt
colour, descended far over his shoulders. He was about four feet six in
height, and wore a conical pointed cap of nearly the same altitude,
decorated with a black feather some three feet long. His doublet was
prolonged behind into something resembling a violent exaggeration of
what is now termed a "swallow tail," but was much obscured by the
swelling folds of an enormous black, glossy-looking cloak, which must
have been very much too long in calm weather, as the wind, whistling
round the old house, carried it clear out from the wearer's shoulders to
about four times his own length.
Gluck was so perfectly paralyzed by the singular appearance of his
visitor, that he remained fixed without uttering a word, until the old
gentleman, having performed another, and a more energetic concerto on
the knocker, turned round to look after his fly-away cloak. In so doing
he caught sight of Gluck's little yellow head jammed in the window, with
its mouth and eyes very wide open indeed.
"Hollo!" said the little gentleman, "that's not the way to answer the
door: I'm wet, let me in."
To do the little gentleman justice, he _was_ wet. His feather hung down
between his legs like a beaten puppy's tail, dripping like an umbrella;
and from the ends of his moustaches the water was running into his
waistcoat pockets, and out again like a mill stream.
"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck, "I'm very sorry, but I really can't."
"Can't what!" said the old gentleman.
"I can't let you in, sir,--I can't, indeed; my brothers would beat me to
death, sir, if I thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?"
"Want?" said the old gentleman, petulantly. "I want fire, and shelter;
and there's your great fire there blazing, cracking, and dancing on the
walls, with nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say; I only want to warm
myself."
Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the window, that he
began to feel it was really unpleasantly cold, and when he turned, and
saw the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and throwing long bright
tongues up the chimney, as if it were licking its chops at the savoury
smell of the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him that it should
be burning away for nothing. "He does look _very_ wet," said little
Gluck; "I'll just let him in for a quarter of an hour." Round he went to
the door, and opened it; and as the little gentleman walked in, there
came a gust of wind through the house, that made the old chimneys
totter.
"That's a good boy," said the little gentleman. "Never mind your
brothers. I'll talk to them."
"Pray, sir, don't do any such thing," said Gluck. "I can't let you stay
till they come; they'd be the death of me."
"Dear me," said the old gentleman, "I'm very sorry to hear that. How
long may I stay?"
"Only till the mutton's done, sir," replied Gluck, "and it's very
brown."
Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen, and sat himself down on
the hob, with the top of his cap accommodated up the chimney, for it
was a great deal too high for the roof.
[Illustration]
"You'll soon dry there, sir," said Gluck, and sat down again to turn the
mutton. But the old gentleman did _not_ dry there, but went on drip,
drip, dripping among the cinders, and the fire fizzed, and sputtered,
and began to look very black, and uncomfortable: never was such a cloak;
every fold in it ran like a gutter.
"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck at length, after watching the water
spreading in long, quicksilverlike streams over the floor for a quarter
of an hour; "mayn't I take your cloak?"
"No, thank you," said the old gentleman.
"Your cap, sir?"
"I am all right, thank you," said the old gentleman rather gruffly.
"But,--sir,--I'm very sorry," said Gluck, hesitatingly; "but--really,
sir,--you're--putting the fire out."
"It'll take longer to do the mutton, then," replied his visitor drily.
Gluck was very much puzzled by the behaviour of his guest; it was such a
strange mixture of coolness and humility. He turned away at the string
meditatively for another five minutes.
"That mutton looks very nice," said the old gentleman at length. "Can't
you give me a little bit?"
"Impossible, sir," said Gluck.
"I'm very hungry," continued the old gentleman: "I've had nothing to eat
yesterday, nor to-day. They surely couldn't miss a bit from the
knuckle!"
He spoke in so very melancholy a tone, that it quite melted Gluck's
heart. "They promised me one slice to-day, sir," said he; "I can give
you that, but not a bit more."
"That's a good boy," said the old gentleman again.
Then Gluck warmed a plate, and sharpened a knife. "I don't care if I do
get beaten for it," thought he. Just as he had cut a large slice out of
the mutton, there came a tremendous rap at the door. The old gentleman
jumped off the hob, as if it had suddenly become inconveniently warm.
Gluck fitted the slice into the mutton again, with desperate efforts at
exactitude, and ran to open the door.
"What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?" said Schwartz, as he
walked in, throwing his umbrella in Gluck's face. "Ay! what for, indeed,
you little vagabond?" said Hans, administering an educational box on the
ear, as he followed his brother into the kitchen.
"Bless my soul!" said Schwartz when he opened the door.
[Illustration]
"Amen," said the little gentleman, who had taken his cap off, and was
standing in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the utmost possible
velocity.
"Who's that?" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin, and turning to
Gluck with a fierce frown.
"I don't know, indeed, brother," said Gluck in great terror.
"How did he get in?" roared Schwartz.
"My dear brother," said Gluck, deprecatingly, "he was so _very_ wet!"
The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head; but, at the instant, the
old gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which it crashed with a
shock that shook the water out of it all over the room. What was very
odd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched the cap, than it flew out of
Schwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high wind, and fell into the
corner at the further end of the room.
"Who are you, sir?" demanded Schwartz, turning upon him.
"What's your business?" snarled Hans.
"I'm a poor old man, sir," the little gentleman began very modestly,
"and I saw your fire through the window, and begged shelter for a
quarter of an hour."
"Have the goodness to walk out again, then," said Schwartz. "We've quite
enough water in our kitchen, without making it a drying house."
"It is a cold day to turn an old man out in, sir; look at my grey
hairs." They hung down to his shoulders, as I told you before.
"Ay!" said Hans, "there are enough of them to keep you warm. Walk!"
"I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of bread before
I go?"
"Bread, indeed!" said Schwartz; "do you suppose we've nothing to do with
our bread, but to give it to such red-nosed fellows as you?"
"Why don't you sell your feather?" said Hans, sneeringly. "Out with
you."
"A little bit," said the old gentleman.
"Be off!" said Schwartz.
"Pray, gentlemen."
"Off, and be hanged!" cried Hans, seizing him by the collar. But he had
no sooner touched the old gentleman's collar, than away he went after
the rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell into the corner
on top of it. Then Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the old gentleman
to turn him out; but he also had hardly touched him, when away he went
after Hans and the rolling-pin, and hit his head against the wall as he
tumbled into the corner. And so there they lay, all three.
Then the old gentleman spun himself round with velocity in the opposite
direction; continued to spin until his long cloak was all wound neatly
about him; clapped his cap on his head, very much on one side (for it
could not stand upright without going through the ceiling), gave an
additional twist to his corkscrew moustaches, and replied with perfect
coolness: "Gentlemen, I wish you a very good morning. At twelve o'clock
tonight I'll call again; after such a refusal of hospitality as I have
just experienced, you will not be surprised if that visit is the last I
ever pay you."
"If ever I catch you here again," muttered Schwartz, coming, half
frightened, out of the corner--but, before he could finish his sentence,
the old gentleman had shut the house door behind him with a great bang:
and there drove past the window, at the same instant, a wreath of ragged
cloud, that whirled and rolled away down the valley in all manner of
shapes; turning over and over in the air; and melting away at last in a
gush of rain.
"A very pretty business, indeed, Mr. Gluck!" said Schwartz. "Dish the
mutton, sir. If ever I catch you at such a trick again--bless me, why,
the mutton's been cut!"
"You promised me one slice, brother, you know," said Gluck.
"Oh! and you were cutting it hot, I suppose, and going to catch all the
gravy. It'll be long before I promise you such a thing again. Leave the
room, sir; and have the kindness to wait in the coal-cellar till I call
you."
Gluck left the room melancholy enough. The brothers ate as much mutton
as they could, locked the rest in the cupboard, and proceeded to get
very drunk after dinner.
Such a night as it was! Howling wind, and rushing rain, without
intermission. The brothers had just sense enough left to put up all the
shutters, and double bar the door, before they went to bed. They usually
slept in the same room. As the clock struck twelve, they were both
awakened by a tremendous crash. Their door burst open with a violence
that shook the house from top to bottom.
"What's that?" cried Schwartz, starting up in his bed.
[Illustration]
"Only I," said the little gentleman.
The two brothers sat up on their bolster, and stared into the darkness.
The room was full of water, and by a misty moon-beam, which found its
way through a hole in the shutter, they could see in the midst of it an
enormous foam globe, spinning round, and bobbing up and down like a
cork, on which, as on a most luxurious cushion, reclined the little old
gentleman, cap and all. There was plenty of room for it now, for the
roof was off.
"Sorry to incommode you," said their visitor, ironically. "I'm afraid
your beds are dampish; perhaps you had better go to your brother's room:
I've left the ceiling on, there."
They required no second admonition, but rushed into Gluck's room, wet
through, and in an agony of terror.
"You'll find my card on the kitchen table," the old gentleman called
after them. "Remember, the _last_ visit."
"Pray Heaven it may!" said Schwartz, shuddering. And the foam globe
disappeared.
Dawn came at last, and the two brothers looked out of Gluck's little
window in the morning. The Treasure Valley was one mass of ruin and
desolation. The inundation had swept away trees, crops, and cattle, and
left in their stead, a waste of red sand and grey mud. The two brothers
crept shivering and horror-struck into the kitchen. The water had gutted
the whole first floor; corn, money, almost every movable thing had been
swept away, and there was left only a small white card on the kitchen
table. On it, in large, breezy, long-legged letters, were engraved the
words:--
[Illustration: SOUTH WEST WIND ESQUIRE]