BUT what became of little Tom?
He slipped away off the rocks into the water, as I said before. But he
could not help thinking of little Ellie. He did not remember who she
was; but he knew that she was a little girl, though she was a hundred
times as big as he. That is not surprising: size has nothing to do with
kindred. A tiny weed may be first cousin to a great tree; and a little
dog like Vick knows that Lioness is a dog too, though she is twenty
times larger than herself. So Tom knew that Ellie was a little girl, and
thought about her all that day, and longed to have had her to play with;
but he had very soon to think of something else. And here is the account
of what happened to him, as it was published next morning in the
Waterproof Gazette, on the finest watered paper, for the use of the
great fairy, Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid, who reads the news very carefully
every morning, and especially the police cases, as you will hear very
soon.
He was going along the rocks in three-fathom water, watching the pollock
catch prawns, and the wrasses nibble barnacles off the rocks, shells and
all, when he saw a round cage of green withes; and inside it, looking
very much ashamed of himself, sat his friend the lobster, twiddling his
horns, instead of thumbs.
"What, have you been naughty, and have they put you in the lock-up?"
asked Tom.
The lobster felt a little indignant at such a notion, but he was too
much depressed in spirits to argue; so he only said, "I can't get out."
"Why did you get in?"
"After that nasty piece of dead fish." He had thought it looked and
smelt very nice when he was outside, and so it did, for a lobster: but
now he turned round and abused it because he was angry with himself.
"Where did you get in?"
"Through that round hole at the top."
"Then why don't you get out through it?"
"Because I can't": and the lobster twiddled his horns more fiercely than
ever, but he was forced to confess.
"I have jumped upwards, downwards, backwards, and sideways, at least
four thousand times; and I can't get out: I always get up underneath
there, and can't find the hole."
Tom looked at the trap, and having more wit than the lobster, he saw
plainly enough what was the matter; as you may if you will look at a
lobster-pot.
"Stop a bit," said Tom. "Turn your tail up to me, and I'll pull you
through hindforemost, and then you won't stick in the spikes."
But the lobster was so stupid and clumsy that he couldn't hit the hole.
Like a great many fox-hunters, he was very sharp as long as he was in
his own country; but as soon as they get out of it they lose their
heads; and so the lobster, so to speak, lost his tail.
Tom reached and clawed down the hole after him, till he caught hold of
him; and then, as was to be expected, the clumsy lobster pulled him in
head foremost.
"Hullo! here is a pretty business," said Tom. "Now take your great
claws, and break the points off those spikes, and then we shall both get
out easily."
"Dear me, I never thought of that," said the lobster; "and after all the
experience of life that I have had!"
You see, experience is of very little good unless a man, or a lobster,
has wit enough to make use of it. For a good many people, like old
Polonius, have seen all the world, and yet remain little better than
children after all.
But they had not got half the spikes away when they saw a great dark
cloud over them: and lo, and behold, it was the otter.
How she did grin and grin when she saw Tom. "Yar!" said she, "you little
meddlesome wretch, I have you now! I will serve you out for telling the
salmon where I was!" And she crawled all over the pot to get in.
Tom was horribly frightened, and still more frightened when she found
the hole in the top, and squeezed herself right down through it, all
eyes and teeth. But no sooner was her head inside than valiant Mr.
Lobster caught her by the nose and held on.
And there they were all three in the pot, rolling over and over, and
very tight packing it was. And the lobster tore at the otter, and the
otter tore at the lobster, and both squeezed and thumped poor Tom till
he had no breath left in his body; and I don't know what would have
happened to him if he had not at last got on the otter's back, and safe
out of the hole.
He was right glad when he got out: but he would not desert his friend
who had saved him; and the first time he saw his tail uppermost he
caught hold of it, and pulled with all his might.
But the lobster would not let go.
"Come along," said Tom; "don't you see she is dead?" And so she was,
quite drowned and dead.
And that was the end of the wicked otter.
But the lobster would not let go.
"Come along, you stupid old stick-in-the-mud," cried Tom, "or the
fisherman will catch you!" And that was true, for Tom felt some one
above beginning to haul up the pot.
But the lobster would not let go.
Tom saw the fisherman haul him up to the boat-side, and thought it was
all up with him. But when Mr. Lobster saw the fisherman, he gave such a
furious and tremendous snap, that he snapped out of his hand, and out of
the pot, and safe into the sea. But he left his knobbed claw behind
him; for it never came into his stupid head to let go after all, so he
just shook his claw off as the easier method. It was something of a
bull, that; but you must know the lobster was an Irish lobster, and was
hatched off Island Magee at the mouth of Belfast Lough.
Tom asked the lobster why he never thought of letting go. He said very
determinedly that it was a point of honour among lobsters. And so it is,
as the Mayor of Plymouth found out once to his cost--eight or nine
hundred years ago, of course; for if it had happened lately it would be
personal to mention it.
For one day he was so tired with sitting on a hard chair, in a grand
furred gown, with a gold chain round his neck, hearing one policeman
after another come in and sing, "What shall we do with the drunken
sailor, so early in the morning?" and answering them each exactly alike:
"Put him in the round house till he gets sober, so early in the
morning"--
That, when it was over, he jumped up, and played leap-frog with the
town-clerk till he burst his buttons, and then had his luncheon, and
burst some more buttons, and then said: "It is a low spring-tide; I
shall go out this afternoon and cut my capers."
Now he did not mean to cut such capers as you eat with boiled mutton. It
was the commandant of artillery at Valetta who used to amuse himself
with cutting them, and who stuck upon one of the bastions a notice, "No
one allowed to cut capers here but me," which greatly edified the
midshipmen in port, and the Maltese on the Nix Mangiare stairs. But all
that the mayor meant was that he would go and have an afternoon's fun,
like any schoolboy, and catch lobsters with an iron hook.
So to the Mewstone he went, and for lobsters he looked. And when he came
to a certain crack in the rocks he was so excited that, instead of
putting in his hook, he put in his hand; and Mr. Lobster was at home,
and caught him by the finger, and held on.
"Yah!" said the mayor, and pulled as hard as he dared: but the more he
pulled, the more the lobster pinched, till he was forced to be quiet.
Then he tried to get his hook in with his other hand; but the hole was
too narrow.
Then he pulled again; but he could not stand the pain.
Then he shouted and bawled for help: but there was no one nearer him
than the men-of-war inside the breakwater.
Then he began to turn a little pale; for the tide flowed, and still the
lobster held on.
Then he turned quite white; for the tide was up to his knees, and still
the lobster held on.
Then he thought of cutting off his finger; but he wanted two things to
do it with--courage and a knife; and he had got neither.
Then he turned quite yellow; for the tide was up to his waist, and still
the lobster held on.
Then he thought over all the naughty things he ever had done; all the
sand which he had put in the sugar, and the sloe-leaves in the tea, and
the water in the treacle, and the salt in the tobacco (because his
brother was a brewer, and a man must help his own kin).
Then he turned quite blue; for the tide was up to his breast, and still
the lobster held on.
Then, I have no doubt, he repented fully of all the said naughty things
which he had done, and promised to mend his life, as too many do when
they think they have no life left to mend. Whereby, as they fancy, they
make a very cheap bargain. But the old fairy with the birch rod soon
undeceives them.
And then he grew all colours at once, and turned up his eyes like a duck
in thunder; for the water was up to his chin, and still the lobster held
on.
And then came a man-of-war's boat round the Mewstone, and saw his head
sticking up out of the water. One said it was a keg of brandy, and
another that it was a cocoa-nut, and another that it was a buoy loose,
and another that it was a black diver, and wanted to fire at it, which
would not have been pleasant for the mayor: but just then such a yell
came out of a great hole in the middle of it that the midshipman in
charge guessed what it was, and bade pull up to it as fast as they
could. So somehow or other the Jack-tars got the lobster out, and set
the mayor free, and put him ashore at the Barbican. He never went
lobster-catching again; and we will hope he put no more salt in the
tobacco, not even to sell his brother's beer.
[Illustration: "A real live water-baby sitting on the white sand."--_P.
146_.]
And that is the story of the Mayor of Plymouth, which has two
advantages--first, that of being quite true; and second, that of having
(as folks say all good stories ought to have) no moral whatsoever: no
more, indeed, has any part of this book, because it is a fairy tale, you
know.
And now happened to Tom a most wonderful thing; for he had not left the
lobster five minutes before he came upon a water-baby.
A real live water-baby, sitting on the white sand, very busy about a
little point of rock. And when it saw Tom it looked up for a moment, and
then cried, "Why, you are not one of us. You are a new baby! Oh, how
delightful!"
And it ran to Tom, and Tom ran to it, and they hugged and kissed each
other for ever so long, they did not know why. But they did not want any
introductions there under the water.
At last Tom said, "Oh, where have you been all this while? I have been
looking for you so long, and I have been so lonely."
"We have been here for days and days. There are hundreds of us about the
rocks. How was it you did not see us, or hear us when we sing and romp
every evening before we go home?"
Tom looked at the baby again, and then he said:
"Well, this is wonderful! I have seen things just like you again and
again, but I thought you were shells, or sea-creatures. I never took you
for water-babies like myself."
Now, was not that very odd? So odd, indeed, that you will, no doubt,
want to know how it happened, and why Tom could never find a water-baby
till after he had got the lobster out of the pot. And, if you will read
this story nine times over, and then think for yourself, you will find
out why. It is not good for little boys to be told everything, and never
to be forced to use their own wits. They would learn, then, no more than
they do at Dr. Dulcimer's famous suburban establishment for the idler
members of the youthful aristocracy, where the masters learn the lessons
and the boys hear them--which saves a great deal of trouble--for the
time being.
"Now," said the baby, "come and help me, or I shall not have finished
before my brothers and sisters come, and it is time to go home."
"What shall I help you at?"
"At this poor dear little rock; a great clumsy boulder came rolling by
in the last storm, and knocked all its head off, and rubbed off all its
flowers. And now I must plant it again with seaweeds, and coralline, and
anemones, and I will make it the prettiest little rock-garden on all the
shore."
So they worked away at the rock, and planted it, and smoothed the sand
down round it, and capital fun they had till the tide began to turn. And
then Tom heard all the other babies coming, laughing and singing and
shouting and romping; and the noise they made was just like the noise of
the ripple. So he knew that he had been hearing and seeing the
water-babies all along; only he did not know them, because his eyes and
ears were not opened.
And in they came, dozens and dozens of them, some bigger than Tom and
some smaller, all in the neatest little white bathing dresses; and when
they found that he was a new baby, they hugged him and kissed him, and
then put him in the middle and danced round him on the sand, and there
was no one ever so happy as poor little Tom.
"Now then," they cried all at once, "we must come away home, we must
come away home, or the tide will leave us dry. We have mended all the
broken seaweed, and put all the rock-pools in order, and planted all the
shells again in the sand, and nobody will see where the ugly storm swept
in last week."
And this is the reason why the rock-pools are always so neat and clean;
because the water-babies come inshore after every storm to sweep them
out, and comb them down, and put them all to rights again.
Only where men are wasteful and dirty, and let sewers run into the sea
instead of putting the stuff upon the fields like thrifty reasonable
souls; or throw herrings' heads and dead dog-fish, or any other refuse,
into the water; or in any way make a mess upon the clean shore--there
the water-babies will not come, sometimes not for hundreds of years (for
they cannot abide anything smelly or foul), but leave the sea-anemones
and the crabs to clear away everything, till the good tidy sea has
covered up all the dirt in soft mud and clean sand, where the
water-babies can plant live cockles and whelks and razor-shells and
sea-cucumbers and golden-combs, and make a pretty live garden again,
after man's dirt is cleared away. And that, I suppose, is the reason why
there are no water-babies at any watering-place which I have ever seen.
And where is the home of the water-babies? In St. Brandan's fairy isle.
Did you never hear of the blessed St. Brandan, how he preached to the
wild Irish on the wild, wild Kerry coast, he and five other hermits,
till they were weary and longed to rest? For the wild Irish would not
listen to them, or come to confession and to mass, but liked better to
brew potheen, and dance the pater o'pee, and knock each other over the
head with shillelaghs, and shoot each other from behind turf-dykes, and
steal each other's cattle, and burn each other's homes; till St. Brandan
and his friends were weary of them, for they would not learn to be
peaceable Christians at all.
So St. Brandan went out to the point of Old Dunmore, and looked over the
tide-way roaring round the Blasquets, at the end of all the world, and
away into the ocean, and sighed--"Ah that I had wings as a dove!" And
far away, before the setting sun, he saw a blue fairy sea, and golden
fairy islands, and he said, "Those are the islands of the blest." Then
he and his friends got into a hooker, and sailed away and away to the
westward, and were never heard of more. But the people who would not
hear him were changed into gorillas, and gorillas they are until this
day.
And when St. Brandan and the hermits came to that fairy isle they found
it overgrown with cedars and full of beautiful birds; and he sat down
under the cedars and preached to all the birds in the air. And they
liked his sermons so well that they told the fishes in the sea; and they
came, and St. Brandan preached to them; and the fishes told the
water-babies, who live in the caves under the isle; and they came up by
hundreds every Sunday, and St. Brandan got quite a neat little
Sunday-school. And there he taught the water-babies for a great many
hundred years, till his eyes grew too dim to see, and his beard grew so
long that he dared not walk for fear of treading on it, and then he
might have tumbled down. And at last he and the five hermits fell fast
asleep under the cedar-shades, and there they sleep unto this day. But
the fairies took to the water-babies, and taught them their lessons
themselves.
And some say that St. Brandan will awake and begin to teach the babies
once more: but some think that he will sleep on, for better for worse,
till the coming of the Cocqcigrues. But, on still clear summer evenings,
when the sun sinks down into the sea, among golden cloud-capes and
cloud-islands, and locks and friths of azure sky, the sailors fancy that
they see, away to westward, St. Brandan's fairy isle.
[Illustration: "Tom found that the isle stood all on pillars, and that
its roots were full of caves."--_P. 151_.]
But whether men can see it or not, St. Brandan's Isle once actually
stood there; a great land out in the ocean, which has sunk and sunk
beneath the waves. Old Plato called it Atlantis, and told strange
tales of the wise men who lived therein, and of the wars they fought in
the old times. And from off that island came strange flowers, which
linger still about this land:--the Cornish heath, and Cornish moneywort,
and the delicate Venus's hair, and the London-pride which covers the
Kerry mountains, and the little pink butterwort of Devon, and the great
blue butterwort of Ireland, and the Connemara heath, and the
bristle-fern of the Turk waterfall, and many a strange plant more; all
fairy tokens left for wise men and good children from off St. Brandan's
Isle.
Now when Tom got there, he found that the isle stood all on pillars, and
that its roots were full of caves. There were pillars of black basalt,
like Staffa; and pillars of green and crimson serpentine, like Kynance;
and pillars ribboned with red and white and yellow sandstone, like
Livermead; and there were blue grottoes like Capri, and white grottoes
like Adelsberg; all curtained and draped with seaweeds, purple and
crimson, green and brown; and strewn with soft white sand, on which the
water-babies sleep every night. But, to keep the place clean and sweet,
the crabs picked up all the scraps off the floor and ate them like so
many monkeys; while the rocks were covered with ten thousand
sea-anemones, and corals and madrepores, who scavenged the water all day
long, and kept it nice and pure. But, to make up to them for having to
do such nasty work, they were not left black and dirty, as poor
chimney-sweeps and dustmen are. No; the fairies are more considerate and
just than that, and have dressed them all in the most beautiful colours
and patterns, till they look like vast flower-beds of gay blossoms. If
you think I am talking nonsense, I can only say that it is true; and
that an old gentleman named Fourier used to say that we ought to do the
same by chimney-sweeps and dustmen, and honour them instead of despising
them; and he was a very clever old gentleman: but, unfortunately for him
and the world, as mad as a March hare.
And, instead of watchmen and policemen to keep out nasty things at
night, there were thousands and thousands of water-snakes, and most
wonderful creatures they were. They were all named after the Nereids,
the sea-fairies who took care of them, Eunice and Polynoe, Phyllodoce
and Psamathe, and all the rest of the pretty darlings who swim round
their Queen Amphitrite, and her car of cameo shell. They were dressed in
green velvet, and black velvet, and purple velvet; and were all jointed
in rings; and some of them had three hundred brains apiece, so that they
must have been uncommonly shrewd detectives; and some had eyes in their
tails; and some had eyes in every joint, so that they kept a very sharp
look-out; and when they wanted a baby-snake, they just grew one at the
end of their own tails, and when it was able to take care of itself it
dropped off; so that they brought up their families very cheaply. But if
any nasty thing came by, out they rushed upon it; and then out of each
of their hundreds of feet there sprang a whole cutler's shop of
_Scythes_, _Javelins_,
_Billhooks_, _Lances_,
_Pickaxes_, _Halberts_,
_Forks_, _Gisarines_,
_Penknives_, _Poleaxes_,
_Rapiers_, _Fishhooks_,
_Sabres_, _Bradawls_,
_Yataghans_, _Gimblets_,
_Creeses_, _Corkscrews_,
_Ghoorka swords_, _Pins_,
_Tucks_, _Needles_,
_And so forth_,
which stabbed, shot, poked, pricked, scratched, ripped, pinked, and
crimped those naughty beasts so terribly that they had to run for their
lives, or else be chopped into small pieces and be eaten afterwards.
And, if that is not all, every word, true, then there is no faith in
microscopes, and all is over with the Linnæan Society.
And there were the water-babies in thousands, more than Tom, or you
either, could count.--All the little children whom the good fairies take
to, because their cruel mothers and fathers will not; all who are
untaught and brought up heathens, and all who come to grief by ill-usage
or ignorance or neglect; all the little children who are overlaid, or
given gin when they are young, or are let to drink out of hot kettles,
or to fall into the fire; all the little children in alleys and courts,
and tumble-down cottages, who die by fever, and cholera, and measles,
and scarlatina, and nasty complaints which no one has any business to
have, and which no one will have some day, when folks have common sense;
and all the little children who have been killed by cruel masters and
wicked soldiers; they were all there, except, of course, the babes of
Bethlehem who were killed by wicked King Herod; for they were taken
straight to heaven long ago, as everybody knows, and we call them the
Holy Innocents.
But I wish Tom had given up all his naughty tricks, and left off
tormenting dumb animals now that he had plenty of playfellows to amuse
him. Instead of that, I am sorry to say, he would meddle with the
creatures, all but the water-snakes, for they would stand no nonsense.
So he tickled the madrepores, to make them shut up; and frightened the
crabs, to make them hide in the sand and peep out at him with the tips
of their eyes; and put stones into the anemones' mouths, to make them
fancy that their dinner was coming.
The other children warned him, and said, "Take care what you are at.
Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid is coming." But Tom never heeded them, being quite
riotous with high spirits and good luck, till, one Friday morning early,
Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid came indeed.
A very tremendous lady she was; and when the children saw her they all
stood in a row, very upright indeed, and smoothed down their bathing
dresses, and put their hands behind them, just as if they were going to
be examined by the inspector.
And she had on a black bonnet, and a black shawl, and no crinoline at
all; and a pair of large green spectacles, and a great hooked nose,
hooked so much that the bridge of it stood quite up above her eyebrows;
and under her arm she carried a great birch-rod. Indeed, she was so ugly
that Tom was tempted to make faces at her: but did not; for he did not
admire the look of the birch-rod under her arm.
And she looked at the children one by one, and seemed very much
pleased with them, though she never asked them one question about
how they were behaving; and then began giving them all sorts of nice
sea-things--sea-cakes, sea-apples, sea-oranges, sea-bullseyes,
sea-toffee; and to the very best of all she gave sea-ices, made out of
sea-cows' cream, which never melt under water.
And, if you don't quite believe me, then just think--What is more cheap
and plentiful than sea-rock? Then why should there not be sea-toffee as
well? And every one can find sea-lemons (ready quartered too) if they
will look for them at low tide; and sea-grapes too sometimes, hanging in
bunches; and, if you will go to Nice, you will find the fish-market full
of sea-fruit, which they call "frutta di mare": though I suppose they
call them "fruits de mer" now, out of compliment to that most
successful, and therefore most immaculate, potentate who is seemingly
desirous of inheriting the blessing pronounced on those who remove their
neighbours' land-mark. And, perhaps, that is the very reason why the
place is called Nice, because there are so many nice things in the sea
there: at least, if it is not, it ought to be.
Now little Tom watched all these sweet things given away, till his mouth
watered, and his eyes grew as round as an owl's. For he hoped that his
turn would come at last; and so it did. For the lady called him up, and
held out her fingers with something in them, and popped it into his
mouth; and, lo and behold, it was a nasty cold hard pebble.
"You are a very cruel woman," said he, and began to whimper.
"And you are a very cruel boy; who puts pebbles into the sea-anemones'
mouths, to take them in, and make them fancy that they had caught a good
dinner! As you did to them, so I must do to you."
"Who told you that?" said Tom.
"You did yourself, this very minute."
Tom had never opened his lips; so he was very much taken aback indeed.
"Yes; every one tells me exactly what they have done wrong; and that
without knowing it themselves. So there is no use trying to hide
anything from me. Now go, and be a good boy, and I will put no more
pebbles in your mouth, if you put none in other creatures'."
"I did not know there was any harm in it," said Tom.
"Then you know now. People continually say that to me: but I tell them,
if you don't know that fire burns, that is no reason that it should not
burn you; and if you don't know that dirt breeds fever, that is no
reason why the fevers should not kill you. The lobster did not know that
there was any harm in getting into the lobster-pot; but it caught him
all the same."
"Dear me," thought Tom, "she knows everything!" And so she did, indeed.
"And so, if you do not know that things are wrong, that is no reason why
you should not be punished for them; though not as much, not as much, my
little man" (and the lady looked very kindly, after all), "as if you did
know."
"Well, you are a little hard on a poor lad," said Tom.
"Not at all; I am the best friend you ever had in all your life. But I
will tell you; I cannot help punishing people when they do wrong. I like
it no more than they do; I am often very, very sorry for them, poor
things: but I cannot help it. If I tried not to do it, I should do it
all the same. For I work by machinery, just like an engine; and am full
of wheels and springs inside; and am wound up very carefully, so that I
cannot help going."
"Was it long ago since they wound you up?" asked Tom. For he thought,
the cunning little fellow, "She will run down some day: or they may
forget to wind her up, as old Grimes used to forget to wind up his watch
when he came in from the public-house; and then I shall be safe."
"I was wound up once and for all, so long ago, that I forget all about
it."
"Dear me," said Tom, "you must have been made a long time!"
"I never was made, my child; and I shall go for ever and ever; for I am
as old as Eternity, and yet as young as Time."
And there came over the lady's face a very curious expression--very
solemn, and very sad; and yet very, very sweet. And she looked up and
away, as if she were gazing through the sea, and through the sky, at
something far, far off; and as she did so, there came such a quiet,
tender, patient, hopeful smile over her face that Tom thought for the
moment that she did not look ugly at all. And no more she did; for she
was like a great many people who have not a pretty feature in their
faces, and yet are lovely to behold, and draw little children's hearts
to them at once; because though the house is plain enough, yet from the
windows a beautiful and good spirit is looking forth.
And Tom smiled in her face, she looked so pleasant for the moment. And
the strange fairy smiled too, and said:
"Yes. You thought me very ugly just now, did you not?"
Tom hung down his head, and got very red about the ears.
"And I am very ugly. I am the ugliest fairy in the world; and I shall
be, till people behave themselves as they ought to do. And then I shall
grow as handsome as my sister, who is the loveliest fairy in the world;
and her name is Mrs. Doasyouwouldbedoneby. So she begins where I end,
and I begin where she ends; and those who will not listen to her must
listen to me, as you will see. Now, all of you run away, except Tom; and
he may stay and see what I am going to do. It will be a very good
warning for him to begin with, before he goes to school.
"Now, Tom, every Friday I come down here and call up all who have
ill-used little children and serve them as they served the children."
And at that Tom was frightened, and crept under a stone; which made the
two crabs who lived there very angry, and frightened their friend the
butter-fish into flapping hysterics: but he would not move for them.
And first she called up all the doctors who give little children so much
physic (they were most of them old ones; for the young ones have learnt
better, all but a few army surgeons, who still fancy that a baby's
inside is much like a Scotch grenadier's), and she set them all in a
row; and very rueful they looked; for they knew what was coming.
And first she pulled all their teeth out; and then she bled them all
round: and then she dosed them with calomel, and jalap, and salts and
senna, and brimstone and treacle; and horrible faces they made; and then
she gave them a great emetic of mustard and water, and no basons; and
began all over again; and that was the way she spent the morning.
And then she called up a whole troop of foolish ladies, who pinch up
their children's waists and toes; and she laced them all up in tight
stays, so that they were choked and sick, and their noses grew red, and
their hands and feet swelled; and then she crammed their poor feet into
the most dreadfully tight boots, and made them all dance, which they did
most clumsily indeed; and then she asked them how they liked it; and
when they said not at all, she let them go: because they had only done
it out of foolish fashion, fancying it was for their children's good, as
if wasps' waists and pigs' toes could be pretty, or wholesome, or of any
use to anybody.
Then she called up all the careless nursery-maids, and stuck pins into
them all over, and wheeled them about in perambulators with tight straps
across their stomachs and their heads and arms hanging over the side,
till they were quite sick and stupid, and would have had sun-strokes:
but, being under the water, they could only have water-strokes; which, I
assure you, are nearly as bad, as you will find if you try to sit under
a mill-wheel. And mind--when you hear a rumbling at the bottom of the
sea, sailors will tell you that it is a ground-swell: but now you know
better. It is the old lady wheeling the maids about in perambulators.
And by that time she was so tired, she had to go to luncheon.
And after luncheon she set to work again, and called up all the cruel
schoolmasters--whole regiments and brigades of them; and when she saw
them, she frowned most terribly, and set to work in earnest, as if the
best part of the day's work was to come. More than half of them were
nasty, dirty, frowzy, grubby, smelly old monks, who, because they dare
not hit a man of their own size, amused themselves with beating little
children instead; as you may see in the picture of old Pope Gregory
(good man and true though he was, when he meddled with things which he
did understand), teaching children to sing their fa-fa-mi-fa with a
cat-o'-nine-tails under his chair: but, because they never had any
children of their own, they took into their heads (as some folks do
still) that they were the only people in the world who knew how to
manage children: and they first brought into England, in the old
Anglo-Saxon times, the fashion of treating free boys, and girls too,
worse than you would treat a dog or a horse: but Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid
has caught them all long ago; and given them many a taste of their own
rods; and much good may it do them.
And she boxed their ears, and thumped them over the head with rulers,
and pandied their hands with canes, and told them that they told
stories, and were this and that bad sort of people; and the more they
were very indignant, and stood upon their honour, and declared they told
the truth, the more she declared they were not, and that they were only
telling lies; and at last she birched them all round soundly with her
great birch-rod and set them each an imposition of three hundred
thousand lines of Hebrew to learn by heart before she came back next
Friday. And at that they all cried and howled so, that their breaths
came all up through the sea like bubbles out of soda-water; and that is
one reason of the bubbles in the sea. There are others: but that is the
one which principally concerns little boys. And by that time she was so
tired that she was glad to stop; and, indeed, she had done a very good
day's work.
Tom did not quite dislike the old lady: but he could not help thinking
her a little spiteful--and no wonder if she was, poor old soul; for if
she has to wait to grow handsome till people do as they would be done
by, she will have to wait a very long time.
Poor old Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid! she has a great deal of hard work before
her, and had better have been born a washerwoman, and stood over a tub
all day: but, you see, people cannot always choose their own profession.
But Tom longed to ask her one question; and after all, whenever she
looked at him, she did not look cross at all; and now and then there was
a funny smile in her face, and she chuckled to herself in a way which
gave Tom courage, and at last he said:
"Pray, ma'am, may I ask you a question?"
"Certainly, my little dear."
"Why don't you bring all the bad masters here and serve them out too?
The butties that knock about the poor collier-boys; and the nailers that
file off their lads' noses and hammer their fingers; and all the master
sweeps, like my master Grimes? I saw him fall into the water long ago;
so I surely expected he would have been here. I'm sure he was bad enough
to me."
Then the old lady looked so very stern that Tom was quite frightened,
and sorry that he had been so bold. But she was not angry with him. She
only answered, "I look after them all the week round; and they are in a
very different place from this, because they knew that they were doing
wrong."
She spoke very quietly; but there was something in her voice which made
Tom tingle from head to foot, as if he had got into a shoal of
sea-nettles.
"But these people," she went on, "did not know that they were doing
wrong: they were only stupid and impatient; and therefore I only punish
them till they become patient, and learn to use their common sense like
reasonable beings. But as for chimney-sweeps, and collier-boys, and
nailer lads, my sister has set good people to stop all that sort of
thing; and very much obliged to her I am; for if she could only stop the
cruel masters from ill-using poor children, I should grow handsome at
least a thousand years sooner. And now do you be a good boy, and do as
you would be done by, which they did not; and then, when my sister,
MADAME DOASYOUWOULDBEDONEBY, comes on Sunday, perhaps she will take
notice of you, and teach you how to behave. She understands that better
than I do." And so she went.
Tom was very glad to hear that there was no chance of meeting Grimes
again, though he was a little sorry for him, considering that he used
sometimes to give him the leavings of the beer: but he determined to be
a very good boy all Saturday; and he was; for he never frightened one
crab, nor tickled any live corals, nor put stones into the sea anemones'
mouths, to make them fancy they had got a dinner; and when Sunday
morning came, sure enough, MRS. DOASYOUWOULDBEDONEBY came too. Whereat
all the little children began dancing and clapping their hands, and Tom
danced too with all his might.
And as for the pretty lady, I cannot tell you what the colour of her
hair was, or of her eyes: no more could Tom; for, when any one looks at
her, all they can think of is, that she has the sweetest, kindest,
tenderest, funniest, merriest face they ever saw, or want to see. But
Tom saw that she was a very tall woman, as tall as her sister: but
instead of being gnarly and horny, and scaly, and prickly, like her, she
was the most nice, soft, fat, smooth, pussy, cuddly, delicious creature
who ever nursed a baby; and she understood babies thoroughly, for she
had plenty of her own, whole rows and regiments of them, and has to this
day. And all her delight was, whenever she had a spare moment, to play
with babies, in which she showed herself a woman of sense; for babies
are the best company, and the pleasantest playfellows, in the world; at
least, so all the wise people in the world think. And therefore when the
children saw her, they naturally all caught hold of her, and pulled her
till she sat down on a stone, and climbed into her lap, and clung round
her neck, and caught hold of her hands; and then they all put their
thumbs into their mouths, and began cuddling and purring like so many
kittens, as they ought to have done. While those who could get nowhere
else sat down on the sand, and cuddled her feet--for no one, you know,
wear shoes in the water, except horrid old bathing-women, who are afraid
of the water-babies pinching their horny toes. And Tom stood staring at
them; for he could not understand what it was all about.
"And who are you, you little darling?" she said.
"Oh, that is the new baby!" they all cried, pulling their thumbs out of
their mouths; "and he never had any mother," and they all put their
thumbs back again, for they did not wish to lose any time.
"Then I will be his mother, and he shall have the very best place; so
get out, all of you, this moment."
And she took up two great armfuls of babies--nine hundred under one arm,
and thirteen hundred under the other--and threw them away, right and
left, into the water. But they minded it no more than the naughty boys
in Struwwelpeter minded when St. Nicholas dipped them in his inkstand;
and did nor even take their thumbs out of their mouths, but came
paddling and wriggling back to her like so many tadpoles, till you could
see nothing of her from head to foot for the swarm of little babies.
But she took Tom in her arms, and laid him in the softest place of all,
and kissed him, and patted him, and talked to him, tenderly and low,
such things as he had never heard before in his life; and Tom looked up
into her eyes, and loved her, and loved, till he fell fast asleep from
pure love.
And when he woke she was telling the children a story. And what story
did she tell them? One story she told them, which begins every Christmas
Eve, and yet never ends at all for ever and ever; and, as she went on,
the children took their thumbs out of their mouths and listened quite
seriously; but not sadly at all; for she never told them anything sad;
and Tom listened too, and never grew tired of listening. And he listened
so long that he fell fast asleep again, and, when he woke, the lady was
nursing him still.
"Don't go away," said little Tom. "This is so nice. I never had any one
to cuddle me before."
"Don't go away," said all the children; "you have not sung us one song."
"Well, I have time for only one. So what shall it be?"
"The doll you lost! The doll you lost!" cried all the babies at once.
So the strange fairy sang:--
_I once had a sweet little doll, dears,
The prettiest doll in the world;
Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears,
And her hair was so charmingly curled.
But I lost my poor little doll, dears,
As I played in the heath one day;
And I cried for her more than a week, dears,
But I never could find where she lay._
_I found my poor little doll, dears,
As I played in the heath one day:
Folks say she is terribly changed, dears,
For her paint is all washed away,
And her arm trodden off by the cows, dears,
And her hair not the least bit curled:
Yet, for old sakes' sake she is still, dears,
The prettiest doll in the world._
What a silly song for a fairy to sing!
And what silly water-babies to be quite delighted at it!
Well, but you see they have not the advantage of Aunt Agitate's
Arguments in the sea-land down below.
"Now," said the fairy to Tom, "will you be a good boy for my sake, and
torment no more sea-beasts till I come back?"
"And you will cuddle me again?" said poor little Tom.
"Of course I will, you little duck. I should like to take you with me
and cuddle you all the way, only I must not"; and away she went.
So Tom really tried to be a good boy, and tormented no sea-beasts after
that as long as he lived; and he is quite alive, I assure you, still.
Oh, how good little boys ought to be who have kind pussy mammas to
cuddle them and tell them stories; and how afraid they ought to be of
growing naughty, and bringing tears into their mammas' pretty eyes!
"Thou little child, yet glorious in the night
Of heaven-born freedom on thy Being's height,
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The Years to bring the inevitable yoke--
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,
And custom lie upon thee with a weight
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life."
WORDSWORTH.