Part 2 — The Fairy's Wand

A TALE OF WINDSOR PARK IN THE DAYS OF THE MERRY MONARCH

In the time of Charles II., Windsor Park stood just where it stands now, and the castle of Windsor was very often the abode of royalty, as it is now; but in those merry, but licentious times, there was much more fun and feasting going on than perhaps there is at present. Rochester was master of the revels, and the Countesses of —— but I will say nothing about the ladies, although some of the highest of our aristocracy are descended from them. There were great preparations in the castle, for King Charles had invited down the Mayor of London, and a bevy of aldermen; not so much with a view of doing honour to the magistrates of the great and ancient city, as with the hope to extract some amusement from their peculiarities.

The fact is, that the Mayor and aldermen of London had certified to the Earl of Rochester, that they had some complaint to make and some favour to request of his Majesty. Rochester, ever willing to procure amusement for his royal master, at the same time was equally careful not to allow him to be annoyed, and therefore had contrived to ferret out that the complaint against the lords of the court, was for their foo great familiarity with the citizens' wives, and that the favour to be demanded was, a curtailment of the dress, ornaments, and expensive habits of the city ladies.—He considered this a very favourable opportunity for procuring some mirth at the expense of the corporation.

With the consent of the king, he had intimated to the mayor and aldermen, that they would be received in the evening, and honoured with a seat at the royal banquet; and at the same time he had privately made known to the lady mayoress, what were the demands about to be made by her husband, desiring her to communicate the same, under a strict promise of secrecy, to the wives of all the aldermen; and also acquainting them that his Majesty would be glad to receive the ladies on the same evening, provided that they could come without the knowledge of their husbands, which might be done by their setting off for Windsor some short time after them. It was the intention of the king, that when the mayor and corporation should present the address, they should be met face to face by their wives, and thus issue be joined.

But mortals were not the only parties who revelled in the beauties of the park of Windsor.

On the evening that this comedy was about to be enacted, there reclined under the celebrated oak, known as Herne's Oak, in a small clear space between some ferns, two of those beings called fairies who had for time immemorial taken up their quarters in that delightful retreat. Whether they were man and wife is not established, but certainly they were male and female; and as they appeared to be on the very best understanding, it is to be presumed that they were not married.

"Elda, there will be a scene to-night at the castle," said the male to the female sprite, as he tickled her nose with a blade of grass.

"Yes, Maya; how foolish those mortals are!"

"I have a mind to create even more mischief," rejoined Maya, "but if I did, you would want to see it."

"Well, and suppose I did, dearest?"

"I do not like that you should be in company with those women, Elda; those duchesses and countesses."

"Bless me, Maya!—what are you afraid of? my virtue?"

"Oh no, dearest! I did not mean that——"

"Then I'll tell you what you did mean, you jealous-pated fool: you meant, that you did not like that I should be in the company of the Earl of Rochester and the King. You ought to have more respect for yourself, and more respect for me, than to be jealous of those mortals."

"Nay, Elda!"

"Yes, yes, and your reason for wanting to go alone, is to hang over that nasty Duchess of Portsmouth."

"Upon my honour!—"

"Your honour, sir!—you have none—there, sir, you may go."

"Oh, very well, madam; just as you please."

Certainly there was something very mortal in this quarrel, and may remind the reader of similar scenes in domestic life.

It ended by Maya walking sulkily away in the direction of the castle, and of Elda following him at a distance, determined to watch his motions.

But if these two lovers had quarrelled, there were two other beings who were indulging in a moonlight walk on the terrace, linked arm-in-arm so affectionately, so fondly, keeping exact pace for pace, and occasionally embracing each other, every one would have thought that nothing in the world could ever have disunited them. They were two young ladies of the court, aged about seventeen, just clear of their governess and bread-and-butter, and newly-appointed maids of honour: they were both beautiful, and had contracted a friendship, as all girls do at that age, when love has with them no precise definition. They had sworn eternal affection after an acquaintance of eight-and-forty hours—the sun and the moon, and all the stars in the firmament—heaven above, the earth below, and everything below that again, had all been summoned to register their vows; and at the time that they were then walking they would have considered it positive heresy to hint at the idea of a disagreement even in thought; but, as I have before observed, they were only seventeen years old.

Maya, who had bent his steps towards the castle, perceived these two young damsels parading up and down, and although he had not the full power of Oberon, yet he was still a highly-endowed fairy. Among other powers vested in him, he had a wand, which when it touched any fairy would change that fairy into mortal size and shape, and if it touched any mortal would produce the contrary effect, giving them for the time the size and appearance of fairies, imps, tritons, naiads, or some of those intermediate creatures, which most accorded with their mortal propensities and dispositions.

This very wand made him much feared by the other fairies, as they were often punished by him in this way, and it was only Oberon, the king, who had the power of reversing the charm; and it is said, that this very wand was one cause why his fair Elda, generally speaking, behaved so well, as he often threatened to turn her into a Dutch milkmaid; which, as she was of a very beautiful figure, would have been a very severe punishment.

It was with this wand—worn like a harlequin's at his side—that the fairy Maya was walking up the terrace; he had changed himself to a handsome young forester, dressed in a suit of green, with bugle by his side, a cap with black feathers hanging down to his right shoulder; wearing the appearance of a very handsome young man of about twenty, and just the description of person to create a difference between two young ladies, who had half an hour before sworn everlasting friendship.

As he passed he made a very profound obeisance.

"Who is he, dearest?" said Miss Araminta.

"Who is he, dearest?" said Miss Euthanasia, both nudging one another at the same moment.

"He bowed to me, said Araminta.

"No, sweetest, it was to me he bowed," rejoined Euthanasia.

"Well I declare!" cried Araminta. What was to follow is not known, for the young forester had retraced his steps and now addressed the young ladies.

"Fair maids of honour, as I presume you are such," said he, taking off his cap, and displaying such handsome curls that each young lady, for the first time, thought how much better it had been if she had walked out alone, "may I inquire the cause of such revelry to-night in the royal castle?"

"The king entertains—" said Araminta.

"The mayor and aldermen," cried Euthanasia, taking the remainder of the sentence out of her friend's mouth.

"Indeed!" replied the fairy, who then entered into conversation with the young ladies, dividing his attentions as equally as he could.

Now it so happened that Elda, who had followed Maya at a distance, could no longer restrain her jealousy when she perceived him walking and talking so earnestly, and, as she considered, really making love to these fair mortals. She took the shape of a big bumble bee, and flying to him settled on his back, stinging him so severely that he uttered an exclamation of pain; and the young ladies were tenderly enquiring where he was hurt, when he felt convinced that it was Elda who had thus punished him. Fairies have consciences as well as mortals. Maya felt that he was, or what was quite as bad, that he appeared to be, guilty. He had already repented of his quarrel with Elda; and, after receiving the condolence of the two young ladies, who vied in their attentions to him, he very suddenly took leave, resolving in his own mind that he would seek out Elda, and make friends with her, infinitely preferring her to two young bread-and-butter maids of honour. Thus did the fairy prove his good sense, and abandon all idea of making mischief at the castle.

Now it so happened that the sting received from the jealous Elda was so very severe, that in his jump forward Maya had allowed his wand to drop out of his belt, and when he departed he did not perceive his loss. There it lay on the terrace, between the two young maids of honour, who already had discovered that their eternal friendship was on the wane. They both remained silent and watching the receding figure of the handsome young forester for at least a minute and a half. At last this unheard-of duration of silence between two young ladies who had sworn eternal friendship was broken. It proved to be like the calm which precedes the tornado.

"Well, I am sure!" cried Euthanasia.

"I shouldn't wonder," replied Araminta.

"Courtly manners, indeed!" continued Euthanasia.

"Yes, you may say that; no wonder he wouldn't stay," responded Araminta, tossing her head.

"No; when you drove him away, miss."

"Me, miss?"

"Yes, you, miss."

"No, miss."

"Yes, miss."

I regret to report the scene which followed. After trying hard to drown each other's voices, the two young maids of honour, who had sworn eternal friendship, commenced pushing, then spitting, then slapping, then beating. Then they pulled each other's hair—then—yes, then Araminta perceived the wand lying on the terrace, and she seized it with the intention of chastising Euthanasia; and Euthanasia perceiving her intention, seized hold of the other end of the wand. A struggle took place, which ended in the wand breaking in half. Then they separated, Araminta throwing her half at her dearest friend, her dearest friend returning the compliment; after which, they both ran home to the castle, vowing that nothing should ever induce them even to speak one single word to each other as long as they lived. We must leave them to go to their rooms, wash their pretty faces, and repair the damage done to their dresses, while we inform the reader of what is going on in the reception-room of the castle.

The mayor and corporation had duly arrived, and had been ushered into a private room until his Majesty should be ready to receive them. The Earl of Rochester had detained them there purposely to give time for the arrival of the ladies of the corporation, who were by his directions received at a private door. The king, amused with the scheme, allowed Rochester to make his arrangements. When all was ready, the mayor and aldermen, who had been very comfortably regaled with sherry and biscuits, so that the time did not appear too tedious, were requested to enter the presence-chamber, where the king received them in due form. The mayor, approaching the throne, knelt down and laid at his Majesty's feet the petition, which he was requested by the king to read.

The preamble set forth that the young nobility of the day were not content with the pleasures of the court, but were in the custom of entering the city on the other side of Temple-bar, creating disturbances, and visiting the wives of his Majesty's dutiful citizens, giving much cause for scandal, "and requesting that in future his Majesty would be pleased to give directions that the nobility should not enter the city without the permission of the corporation, as such would prove most advantageous to the morals of the community."

"Hah!" observed his Majesty, "how is this, my Lord of Rochester? Do our young gallants create disturbances with our good citizens? This must be looked to."

"May it please your Majesty," replied the Earl of Rochester, "assertion is not proof. Here are now twenty-five of the wealthiest citizens of London present, and on their knees before you—they have twenty-five wives—is there any one who will accuse his wife, or his neighbour's wife, of listening to the nonsense of these young nobles? Either they must listen to them, or, if they do not listen to them, there is no harm done."

"Very true," replied the king. "Say, Mr Mayor, where are your proofs of what you have now asserted?"

"May it please your Majesty, women are women," replied the mayor.

"I believe we may admit that, your Majesty," rejoined Rochester, with a smile.

"Yes. In that point I agree with Mr Mayor—go on. What further does this petition contain?"

"A request that your Majesty will pass some law by which our city dames may be prevented from vying in expense with those of the court—to forbid stuffs of gold, or Genoa velvet, to be worn by them—and all ornaments of too high price—which are not suitable to our condition as simple artisans, and very ruinous to our pockets."

"May it please your Majesty, as any man can legislate for his own household, I think this last clause quite unnecessary. If the good citizens of London cannot afford to pay for such finery they must prevent their wives from purchasing it."

"That is very true," observed his Majesty; "you must prevent it yourselves."

"May it please your Majesty, we cannot," exclaimed the whole deputation, with one voice.

"Well, this is a very serious affair," replied the king, "and it must be laid before a special privy-council. Are you prepared to prove before the council, when you are called on, that your wives have been guilty of listening to these young gallants—have received them, and admitted their familiarities—say, Mr Mayor, and gentlemen, are you prepared to prove this?"

"All are prepared and ready to swear to it," replied the deputation.

"Well then, Mr Mayor, you will have the goodness to retire for a short time while I consult with my council, which I shall immediately summon; and if the facts are as you say, and you prove them, your petition shall be attended to."

The mayor and aldermen, delighted at this gracious reply, rose and humbly backed out of the presence-chamber. As soon as they had retired, the lady mayoress and all the aldermen's wives were ushered in, requested by his Majesty to be seated on chairs ranged round the throne, and thus was formed King Charles' special council. Rochester read the petition in a merry way, and then his Majesty requested the lady mayoress, as first in rank, to give her opinion.

"May it please your Majesty," said the mayoress, "it is very true that many of the young nobility do come within the city walls and prove good customers to our husbands. As for disturbances, I never heard of any, for our husbands are peaceable men; and as for their paying attention to the ladies, it is in my opinion only paying a compliment to our husbands, as well as to ourselves."

"Very well argued," replied the king.—"Your opinion, madam, on this first point," continued the king, addressing himself to one of the aldermen's ladies.

"Pray, does your Majesty think it fair," replied the lady, who was very pretty, "that our husbands are to leave us all day long, to add to their heaps of money, which they care for more than they do for us, and that we are not to amuse ourselves in some way? Besides, it can't be wrong, for the king sets the example, and the king can do no wrong."

"May it please your Majesty, that last argument settles the point," observed Rochester; "and I believe I may say, that the whole council are of the same opinion."

The ladies bowed their heads in acquiescence.

"And now as to the other request contained in this petition, that the ladies shall not in future dress in gold stuff, Genoa velvet, and rich ornaments. What say you, ladies?"

"May it please your Majesty," observed an alderman's wife, who had been married a week, "aware of what was to come, we have already discussed the point between ourselves. It is admitted that our husbands leave us alone, and that we are justified in receiving the attentions of the young nobles who so honour us. Now if our husbands stayed with us, and kept us company, we would dress to please them; but as they do not, and we are indebted to others for society, why we must dress accordingly. Courtiers require the splendour of the court, and it is our duty to study to please them, and our husbands' duty to accede to it, as a return for the compliments paid to us."

"This is remarkably good logic, Sire," observed Rochester. "I doubt whether you ever summoned a more wise council."

"A more delightful one, never," replied the king, bowing to the ladies.

"Now we will, if you please, summon in the lord mayor and deputation; and if they are willing, as they say they are, to prove——"

"Yes, if—" rejoined the lady mayoress; and all the other ladies replied, "Yes, if——"

In a few minutes the deputation made its appearance: the mayor and his colleagues entered the room with joyful anticipations, and fully prepared to prove all that their petition asserted; but what was their dismay when they all beheld their own wives, dressed in stuffs of gold, and Genoa velvet, arranged in a circle round the throne, their eyes flashing fire, and their fans moving with a rapidity that was ever the precursor of a storm. Each dame had singled out her husband, fixed her eyes upon him, and every lord and master had quailed at their lightning flashes. They tottered, rather than walked, up to the throne, and when they again went down upon their knees, each one involuntarily turned round to the direction where his own wife was seated, as if to deprecate her wrath and implore her pardon.

The king bit his lips to control his laughter; Rochester stuffed his handkerchief into his mouth.

"Mr Mayor and gentlemen," said the king, after he had somewhat recovered himself, "I have, as you perceive, summoned a special council to consult on this case; and it has been the decision of the council, that you should now produce these proofs, which you but just now stated you were prepared and willing to do. Mr Mayor, you may proceed, we are all attention."

"May it—please your—ladyship," stammered the mayor.

"It does not please her ladyship," replied the lady mayoress, fanning herself furiously.

"I meant—his Majesty—I would have said—I have no proofs myself to bring forward—but my colleagues are, I believe, well prepared."

"Indeed, Mr Mayor, is it possible that I mistook you? You have no proofs? Well then, who are the other gentlemen who are to bring forward the proofs?"

The deputation answered not.

"My Lord of Rochester, oblige me by putting the question separately to each of these gentlemen."

The question was put, but not one of the deputation had a proof to bring forward.

"By the mass, but this is strange!" said the king. "But an hour ago they all had proofs, and now they have not one. This is trifling with us, Mr Mayor—an insult to the throne and council. Speak, sir, what means this?"

"May it please your Majesty—it means—that we beg pardon of your Majesty—and of the special council."

"And your petition?"

"Is withdrawn, if it so please your Majesty," said the mayor, looking round to the aldermen.

"Yes, your Majesty, is withdrawn."

"For myself, Mr Mayor, I accept your excuses, and you have my pardon; but as for the special council, I must leave you to settle with it how you can.—Ladies, a banquet is prepared; when summoned, it will depend upon yourselves, whether you come alone or attended by the mayor and deputation. Come, my Lord of Rochester, we will not interfere in the arrangements, which will take place better when we are out of the way."

So saying, the king quitted the presence-chamber with the Earl of Rochester, leaving the ladies seated, and their husbands still kneeling. We shall not dwell upon what took place after the departure of the king; one thing is certain, that the fair sex are very merciful, and as their husbands promised them that in future they should have their own way, dress as they pleased, receive whom they pleased, and spend what money they pleased, the ladies very kindly and magnanimously forgave their spouses; and when they were summoned to the banquet, each lady entered the hall, hanging on the arm of her husband.

This happy reconciliation was duly celebrated. Wine flowed, bumper after bumper was drank, pledge succeeded to pledge, and it was long past midnight before the carouse was over. The moon shone bright, and heated with the wine, Rochester proposed to the ladies that they should take a walk on the terrace before they ordered their carriages to go home. It must be confessed that the ladies had not been so cautious as they ought to have been, and that their steps were not very steady; but could a lady refuse to drink wine with a king or an Earl of Rochester? No! and the consequence was, that they all were merry, and some of them more than merry. As for the husbands, they were reeling and tumbling in all directions, and the terrace-wall, wide as it was, was not sufficiently wide for them. Rochester led the way, and all was fun and merry laughter.

The party had not proceeded far, when a little altercation took place between the mayoress and the alderman's wife who had given her opinion after her in the council; for it so happened that as they sauntered along, the mayoress had picked up one portion of the broken wand, and the alderman's lady the other. The wand was of ebony, and highly polished—each would possess herself of the half in the hands of the other, and thus commenced the dispute; and it ended, as all disputes between ladies will end, if they happen to have a stick in their hands when they quarrel, by their beating each other. The mayoress gave the alderman's wife a slap with her part of the wand—it was immediately returned—when lo and behold——

It must be here explained, that although the wand when entire had the power of changing people as we have described, yet when broken, its power was divided between the two parts; the one end retaining its half power of changing only the upper portion of the figure, while the other could only change the lower half.

The blows were exchanged. The mayoress, who was a tall woman, immediately sank down a foot and a half, the upper portion of her plump body was now resting upon the two diminutive legs of a two-feet-high fairy—which could only make a stride of six inches at a time. The alderman's lady, on the contrary, retained her lower portion of her body; but instead of her lovely face, and graceful neck, she carried a little round head and shoulders, such as is represented in the figure of Puck. They must all have been very tipsy, for the others thought that they had put on masquerade dresses—the sticks were seized, one by Rochester, the other by the king, and they struck right and left—the lord mayor had the head and beard of a satyr—Rochester had the feet of a goat—the king appeared to have the bust of a beautiful woman, with a pair of splendid blue gossamer wings to his shoulders—one of the aldermen found himself with a naiad's tail, and he fell flat on the terrace, with great violence; all of them, men and women, were transformed into some shape or another—and the more strange the metamorphosis, the louder they all laughed and shouted. Some indeed were very much alarmed; particularly one little woman, who whispered to her neighbour, that she believed she was a little man.

But the scene did not end here: the two parts of the wand found their way into other hands, who as they capered and jumped beat their companions. King Charles, struck by the lower part of the wand, found his transformation complete—he was now a lovely woman;—Rochester was turned by a blow, into a perfect satyr—while the mayoress, struck by the same portion, sank down into a little fairy not two feet high. As the sticks were passed round there was no end to the transformations: the fat alderman who had fallen down with a fish's tail, now became a perfect naiad, with long hair, and a comb in his hand. Such was the noise and confusion, that the two little maids of honour came out on the terrace to witness this strange revelling. Rochester seized them and kissed them as they screamed with fright at his shaggy beard—the wand was applied to them, and they too were transformed. The Duchess of Portsmouth opened her chamber-window, and perceiving the wild revelling resolved to indulge his Majesty with a good curtain-lecture; but he heard her not.

"To the oak of Herne the hunter," cried the king; "away to the oak!"

"To the oak! to the oak!" shouted the whole bacchanalian crew; and away they flew across the park, starting the quiescent deer with their shouts, their laughter, and their revelry. Rochester took the naiad under his arm, that she might not be left behind, and dancing, capering, tumbling, and getting up again, led by the merry king, who now was a beautiful fairy, they arrived there out of breath.

But before they had reached the oak, their noise had disturbed the slumber of one happy pair who had nestled in each other's arms among the fern.

It was Maya and Elda—who had met, and had been reconciled, proving that with fairies, the quarrels of lovers are but the renewal of love; not the case, although supposed to be so, with us mortals. Maya had missed his wand, but he would not leave Elda to return for it—he intended to have searched for it the next morning.

"What is all that noise, dearest?" cried Elda, waking up and resting on her elbow, as she listened.

"What can it be, but the mad king at his pranks as usual?" replied Maya, who had risen on his feet. "But what is here? I see—I see how it is—they have found my wand and must have broken it; for it does not otherwise do things by halves."

As Maya said this, the king with his companions arrived under the oak-tree—Elda retired to a distance, while Maya soon regained the two parts of his wand from the hands of the intoxicated parties, who had possession of them.

"I shall have work to-night, and must repair this mischief," said Maya. "Elda, dearest, hasten and bring me poppy-juice to seal up the eyes of these mad people."

In a few minutes Elda had executed her commission; the whole company were now seated in a circle, singing songs, hugging one another, all merry but the two little maids of honour, who not having taken wine, were horrified at the transformation—they sat together and cried as if their little hearts would break.

Maya pressed the poppy-juice on the eyes of each individual, and in a few seconds they were all in a profound sleep. He then examined the transformations, and completed those which were partial above or below—till then he could not repair his wand. When they were all transformed, he put the two parts of his wand together, breathed upon them, and the wand was reunited. He then went round the circle, touched each person, and the whole company resumed their original forms.

"So far have I done my part," observed Maya. "As for colds, catarrhs, fevers, agues, they deserve all they may catch. Now, Elda, let us once more retire to rest."

The leaves of the old oak-tree were gilded with the rays of the morning sun, before King Charles and his companions awoke, and very much astonished they were to find themselves in such a place and at such an hour—the ladies blushed and canvassed the affair among themselves—they recollected the transformations, they remembered their setting off for the Hunter's Oak—but still they were confused. The mayor and aldermen were puzzled—not so much at finding themselves asleep under the tree, but that their wives should be there also. The king and Rochester were the only two who appeared indifferent.

"Come, ladies—come, my lord mayor and gentlemen of the corporation, we have had a merry night of it, and have slept under the greenwood tree, now let us in to the toilet, and then to breakfast."

He offered his arm to the lady mayoress, the rest of the company followed—they hastened to the toilet—they ate their breakfasts, and then hastened back to the good city of London.

"Well," said the king, as soon as the company had departed, "what think you of this, Rochester—were we visited by the fairies last night, think you?"

"May it please your Majesty," replied the earl, "my opinion is that either we were in the hands of the fairies, or else——"

"Else what?"

"Or else, Sire, we were all most confoundedly drunk."