Part 6

So time wore on, and it really seemed as if there was no reason why the truth should ever be discovered, or the success of Martha Scweinvolt’s wicked scheme be otherwise than complete. It was not, however, wholly satisfactory to the waiting-maid herself, for, independently of the unpleasant behaviour of the false heir towards her, she had not even the satisfaction of seeing her mistress suffer as she had hoped. So it is that people who consult demons, or, what is nearly as bad, follow the dictates of their own evil passions, are generally deceived in the result, and find that the good to themselves which they expected to obtain pretty certainly ends in disappointment.

Although the Baroness had at first declared that the child brought to her by Sophie Grutchen on that eventful morning was not her own, she had become reconciled to the state of things in a marvellously short {074}time, fancied that, after all, she must have been under some delusion, and in a very few days took kindly to the infant. As he grew up, her fondness for him increased, and, in spite of what has been so often said and written about the unfailing instinct of a mother, she firmly believed him to be her own son. Instead, therefore, of her heart-strings being wrung, as Martha had charitably hoped would have been the case, she was by no means unhappy. True it is, she suffered somewhat from the urchin’s behaviour, but, when it did not happen to affect her own personal comfort, she took his part against the complaints of others, stood up for him when the Baron found fault, and scarcely ever endeavoured to check him in his mischievous and tormenting ways.

Thus did Martha find that she had brought a plague upon herself without really securing her revenge, and that the only person who had been punished was the innocent child against whom she had borne no grudge. This was by no means a pleasant reflection, and in some natures would have produced a repentance for the evil done, and a sincere desire to undo it if possible. I regret to be obliged to state that this was by no means the case with Martha. On the contrary, her desire for revenge was unappeased, and the more she discovered that she had failed, the more she resolved that she would, somehow or other, ultimately succeed. With this view, therefore, she once more sought the river side, and summoned to her aid her former friend the water-demon.

As there was nothing attractive in her appearance, or delightful in her society, the demon, who knew moreover {075}that his hold upon her was sufficiently secure to make it a matter of indifference to him whether she committed any more crimes or not, did not come until she had adjured him by many entreaties and employed all the incantations of which she was the mistress. When at last he appeared, he treated her with contemptuous coldness, and derided her complaints that she had not enjoyed her promised revenge. In fact he told her, in so many words, that he had fulfilled his part of the bargain, and that she had no business to trouble him any more.

Most people would have taken this for a final answer, but Martha was not disposed to be put off after such a fashion. She told the demon that she was quite ready to own that he had done what he had promised, although the result had not been so satisfactory as she had been led to expect. She had, however, another plan, in which she required his assistance, and put it plainly to him, as a well-bred devil, whether he could refuse a lady under the peculiar circumstances of the case. Besides, she said, there would be crime committed by other persons, and possibly misery to many, if her plan could be carried out, and these should be powerful inducements to any right-minded demon, who understood the interests of his class, to render his willing and active assistance.

Her plan, then, was to stir up the neighbouring peasants and shepherds to revolt against the Baron. By constantly dinning into their ears stories of the lazy and useless life he led, and the abominable temper and tyranny of the Baroness, Martha had little doubt that a spirit of disaffection might be excited among these ignorant {076}people which she would eventually be able to turn to good account. If she could induce them to rise against the Baron, and suddenly attack the castle, she would take good care that the Baroness should not escape; and even if the movement was not successful, she would be able in the confusion to wreak her revenge, by dagger or poison, upon her hated mistress. Such an attempt, in any case, could not fail to be productive of much evil and discomfort to one side or the other, and must, therefore, be a scheme which should at once recommend itself to the individual whom she was addressing.

The demon listened with attention to Martha’s speech, and at its conclusion warmly complimented her upon the fertility of her brain, and expressed his candid opinion that she deserved to have been a demon herself. He owned that he felt bound, as a gentleman and a devil, to give her every assistance in his power, and asked her several questions as to the manner in which she thought he could be of most use in furthering her views. The waiting-maid replied that her only fear was as to her being able to persuade the people to take her advice and rise against the Baron. The old feudal principle still lurked in their breasts, and although they were certainly poor they were tolerably honest, and having been generally treated with kindness by the inhabitants of the castle, might possibly be weak enough to entertain towards them sentiments of affection and gratitude.

The demon, however, who knew better than Martha how little of either of these feelings exists in the heart of man, smiled a contemptuous smile at her ignorance of human nature, and told her that she need feel no uneasiness {077}upon the point. He added, however, that as she doubted her persuasive powers, he would give her such valuable aid as would materially improve her chances of success. He would forthwith speak to two highly respectable wehr-wolves of his acquaintance, who would be ready, for his sake, to accompany her whenever she went out among the peasants. By following her closely, these animals would add to the estimation in which the ignorant rustics would hold her, and although they would not speak when she was in the company of other mortals, they would give her many private hints which she would find immeasurably useful in persuading those with whom she would have to do.

Much gratified by this assurance, Martha wended her way homewards in better spirits than she had enjoyed for some time past, and was even able to smile contemptuously when she found that the young Baron had taken the opportunity of her absence to put a hedgehog in her bed, and empty a bottle of castor oil into her best Sunday boots. She lost no time in commencing operations, and almost every afternoon walked out into the country to spread disaffection among the people.

At first, it is true, she was rather frightened at the appearance of the wehr-wolves, whom the demon had been as good as his word in sending to meet her. They always waited for her at the corner of a neighbouring wood, and accompanied her to the cottages of the peasants. After a short time she began to hold small meetings of the latter, at which she held forth concerning the wrongs they suffered at the hands of the Baron: how shameful it was that he should be so rich and they so poor, and how one man was just as good as another.

She {078}always took care to wind up by attributing much of their particular miseries to the bad influence of the Baroness, whom she denounced as an upholder of everything bad, a cruel tyrant in her household, and altogether a monster of iniquity. As she lectured in this way, one of the wehr-wolves generally sat just behind her and the other at the other end of the room, and the presence of these animals made a vast impression upon the ignorant peasants. In this manner, little by little, the wicked Martha obtained considerable influence over the poor people, who became gradually more and more moody and discontented, until at last they really came to look upon the Baron as a hateful tyrant, and regarded the Baroness as a monster in human form.

While all these things were going on, you must not suppose, Brother Thames, that evil was allowed to enjoy an uninterrupted triumph in Rhineland. I am glad to be able to say that such has never been the case for long; and that although my stream has always been more or less troubled by demons, imps, devilets, and water-rats {079}(which are nearly as bad), it has never been without a redeeming element in the shape of good fairies, nymphs, and an occasional stray mermaid, come up from the sea for change of air and scenery. These creatures have, from time to time, performed many acts of kindness to mankind, and when the powers of evil have proved too strong for them for a time, they have now and then requested me to interfere.

In the present instance a strong deputation of nymphs waited upon me, and brought before me a particular part of the case which I am now about to enter upon. Among those persons who were most greatly plagued by the false heir, were his three supposed sisters, the elder children of the Baron and Baroness von Bandelboots. These young ladies were endowed with considerable personal attractions, and were girls of whom a brother might well have been proud. Dora, Bertha, and Elladine were the names of the three, and up to the time of the changing of the children they had lived lives as happy and contented as was compatible with the ever-varying temper of their worthy mother. They were quite young, indeed, when the event occurred which so destroyed the comfort of the Bandelboots household, and at the time at which I have now arrived in my narration were just budding into womanhood, three as fair flowers as you would wish to see. Their young devilet of a brother, or rather he who was supposed to be their brother, contrived to make their existence perfectly miserable; and as the Baroness invariably took his part against them, their lives at last became positively unendurable.

It was not only that a chignon was constantly hidden or {080}stolen just when it was wanted, stays were mysteriously cut, gloves spoiled, best bonnets crammed up the chimney, and best boots deposited in the bath. These discomforts were unpleasant enough, but the little wretch went far beyond them. He pinched and nipped the poor girls whenever he met them, trod on their toes suddenly, drew away their chairs just as they were about to sit down, and put rhubarb and magnesia into their five o’clock tea. Moreover, he carried all kinds of tales about them to the Baroness, and told falsehood upon falsehood for the mere purpose of getting them into disgrace. Then, when the Baroness inflicted punishment upon them, he would jeer and taunt and tease the poor girls, rendering it doubly disagreeable by his ill-natured and malicious joy. Nothing delighted him so much as to see others suffer, and it seemed as if he lived for nothing else save to procure as much misery as possible for his neighbours.

This state of things gradually drove Dora, Bertha, and Elladine to desperation; and, after many plans and consultations, they determined to seek advice from some of the good spirits of my river. As it happened, however, that, although they are very willing to give good advice and to assist mortals whenever they can, my nymphs and fairies are restrained by etiquette from active interference with the demons in those parts of the river especially appropriated to the latter, the good creatures thought it better to bring the matter before me; and on being consulted by the young ladies, the nymph who saw them upon the subject told them to come again at a certain time, before which she waited upon me, as I have said, with a deputation.

When {081}the case had been fairly represented to me, I saw at once that it was one in which something should be done, and I accordingly promised that if the three young persons would bathe together at a certain spot on the following morning, I would present myself before them and hear their story.

The time came, and I can assure you, Brother Thames, that in order to inspire confidence in the breasts of the maidens, I made my appearance as venerable as I could previous to my appearance before their astonished eyes.

The {082}sweet creatures stood in the water clinging fondly to each other, as they implored my assistance; and whilst I listened to their artless tale of woe, I leaned my head upon my hand, and pondered deeply over the best course to be taken in order to afford them that assistance which I at once determined to render.

I was not long in making up my mind, and in resolving that the demons should not be allowed to have things all their own way. However, as you know very well, the laws of magic must not be broken, and it would never have done for me to have rudely and suddenly exercised my superior power in order to set matters right in the castle of Bandelboots. All I could fairly do was to put mortals in the way of helping themselves, at the same time interfering, if need should arise, with just as much exercise of power as might be necessary. So, having spoken words of comfort to the three girls, I told them to go home and try and bear their misfortunes for three days more, and at the end of that time, if matters were no better, they might again pay me a visit.

There was, as you may suppose, no improvement in their condition during the appointed time. In fact, their supposed brother was, if possible, rather worse than ever. He cut off a great bit of Bertha’s back hair, stole up behind Elladine and boxed her ears violently, and finished up by giving Dora’s pet canary to the cat, which he afterwards hung, as he said, for the murder. It was no matter of surprise to me, then, when the three maidens again presented themselves before me, weeping bitterly over their many misfortunes and sorrows.

I no longer hesitated as to the course which I should pursue, {083}but immediately changed the sisters into three magnificent swans, desiring them to frequent as much as possible the lake on which their father’s castle stood. This course, as you will readily perceive, had a double effect of a most useful character. For one thing, it of course showed the inhabitants of the castle that something was wrong, and aroused both the Baron and Baroness to exertions for the recovery of their lost daughters which would very likely result in their finding out from the powers of magic something, as the lawyers say, “very much to their advantage.” But above and beyond this was the circumstance that, as swans are gifted with the miraculous power of seeing through magical disguises, the young ladies would be perfectly certain to encounter and recognise their real brother in some of his flittings over the lake, and thus would eventually be brought about the consummation so devoutly to be desired.

You may well believe that the disappearance of the three girls plunged the castle into the direst confusion. No one could imagine where they had gone to, and all kinds of surmises were afloat. The Baron smoked twice as many pipes as usual; the Baroness flew into a more violent passion than had been the case for a month before; poor old nurse Grutchen wept bitterly; Martha Scweinvolt seemed to have more vinegar than ever in her countenance; and the false heir ran about teasing and worrying everybody twice as much as usual, and was apparently in the highest possible spirits at the loss of his sisters. Every hole and corner of the castle was searched, the river was dragged, the crier was sent through the straggling hamlets of the neighbourhood, special {084}messengers were despatched in every direction, but it is needless to say that no success attended any of these proceedings.

And the stately swans swam all the time around the ancient walls of their ancestral home, and floated upon the waters of the lake they knew so well, thankful for the peace and rest which they at last enjoyed, and caressing each other with the tender love of creatures who knew that upon their mutual love and sympathy depended the whole comfort and happiness of their lives. Nor indeed were they long left in ignorance of the truth as to their unhappy brother. Scarcely had they been two days upon the old lake, before the transformed child came flying up from the river to take his mournful look at the home from which he had been so cruelly ravished. As he flew low over the waters he passed close to the three lovely swans, and they, casting their eyes upon him as they sat mournfully watching, recognised their brother at once through the hideous disguise {085}he wore, and called him to them with loud cries of joy.

The bat-boy paused in his flight, hovered for a moment near to the noble birds, and then, as he heard them speak, the whole of his sad story came back to him, the memories of his first few months upon earth as a mortal child were stirred in his bosom, and he knew clearly and fully his true nature and origin, and the cruel wrongs he had endured at the hands of the treacherous waiting-maid and her wicked ally the river-demon. As soon as he had fully realised the truth, the boy tenderly embraced his swan-sisters, and the four wept together over the sorrows of their family. Being well aware, however, that weeping would be of very little service unless followed by active measures, they discontinued that amusing pastime after a while, and consulted together as to the best course to be pursued.

Although comparatively happy in their new shape, the sisters readily confessed that they should infinitely prefer to resume their human bodies, provided that they could be assured of being able to live quietly and comfortably, and of being no longer troubled with the malice of the devilet heir. The youthful Hubert had of course no affection whatever for the form to which he had been condemned, and therefore the object of the four was clear enough, namely, to return to their natural shapes as soon as possible under more favourable conditions than those in which they had left them. The question was as to the wisest and best means of securing this desirable object, and here the magic knowledge generally possessed by swans came to their assistance.

They {086}knew full well that their brother could never become his former self until the devilet who now possessed his shape and claimed rights which were his should be compelled to abandon both. They knew, moreover, that to bring this about would be a work requiring caution, since the river-demon was powerful and cunning enough to counteract all their efforts unless they could contrive to outwit him. It was, however, revealed to the sisters that there was one way in which this might be done, and by which the retransformation of their brother might be effected, and the false heir be obliged to return to him that sent him.

There lived far up in the great mountains, which could be seen in the distance from the castle windows, a being endowed with wondrous powers. He was commonly known by the name of the Harper, and a strange fellow he certainly was. No one quite knew whether he was merely mortal or something more. All that was certain was, that he lived the life of a hermit, was by no means particular in his dress or remarkably clean in his appearance, and wore a flat hat with ivy and oak leaves woven together on the crown. His harp was of the rudest and simplest character, but it had such extraordinary virtue that if he played it, accompanying himself while he sang or chanted to its tune, everybody and everything seemed obliged to yield to its magic powers. The sisters of Bandelboots knew full well that if this individual’s aid could be secured things would be pretty sure to go right, and therefore made up their minds to seek it without delay.