Granny's Wonderful Chair/Chapter 10

“This promise cheered the lady’s heart, and she and Civil spent that Christmas time seeing the wonders of the sea country. They wandered through caves like that of the great merman. The unfinished feast was spread in every hall; the tables were covered with most costly vessels; and heaps of jewels lay on the floors of unlocked chambers. But for the lady’s warning, Civil would fain have put away some of them for his mother.

“The poor woman was sad of heart by this time, believing her son to be drowned. On the first night when he did not come home, she had gone down to the sea and watched till morning. Then the fishermen steered out again, and Sour having ​found his skiff floating about, brought it home, saying, the foolish young man was doubtless lost; but what better could be expected when he had no discreet person to take care of him.

“This grieved Dame Civil sore. She never expected to see her son again; but, feeling lonely in her cottage at the evening hour when he used to come home, the good woman accustomed herself to go down at sunset and sit beside the sea. That winter happened to be mild on the coast of the west country, and one evening when the Christmas time was near, and the rest of the village preparing to make merry, Dame Civil sat, as usual, on the sands. The tide was ebbing and the sun going down, when from the eastward came a lady clad in black, mounted on a black palfrey, and followed by a squire in the same sad clothing: as the lady came near, she said—

“‘Woe is me for my daughter, and for all that have lost by the sea!’

“‘You say well, noble lady,’ said Dame Civil. ‘Woe is me also for my son, for I have none beside him.’

“When the lady heard that, she alighted from her palfrey, and sat down by the fisherman’s mother, saying—

“‘Listen to my story. I was the widow of a ​great lord in the heart of the east country. He left me a fair castle, and an only daughter, who was the joy of my heart. Her name was Faith Feignless; but, while she was yet a child, a great fortuneteller told me that my daughter would marry a fisherman. I thought this would be a great disgrace to my noble family, and, therefore, sent my daughter with her nurse in a good ship, bound for a certain city where my relations live, intending to follow myself as soon as I could get my lands and castles sold. But the ship was wrecked, and my daughter drowned; and I have wandered over the world with my good Squire Trusty, mourning on every shore with those who have lost friends by the sea. Some with whom I have mourned grew to forget their sorrow, and would lament with me no more; others, being sour and selfish, mocked me, saying my grief was nothing to them: but you have good manners, and I will remain with you, however humble be your dwelling. My squire carries gold enough to pay all our charges.’ So the mourning lady and her good Squire Trusty went home with Dame Civil, and she was no longer lonely in her sorrow, for when the dame said—

“‘Oh! if my son were alive, I should never let him go to sea in a cobbled skiff!’ the lady answered—

​“‘Oh! if my daughter were but living, I should never think it a disgrace though she married a fisherman!’

“The Christmas passed as it always does in the west country—shepherds made merry on the downs, and fishermen on the shore; but when the merrymakings and ringing of bells were over in all the land, the sea-people woke up to their continual feasts and dances. Like one that had forgotten all that was passed, the merman again showed Civil the chamber of gold and the chamber of jewels, advising him to choose between his two daughters; but the fisherman still answered that the ladies were too noble, and far too rich for him. Yet as he looked at the glittering heap, Civil could not help recollecting the poverty of the west country, and the thought slipped out—

“‘How happy my old neighbours would be to find themselves here!’

“‘Say you so?’ said the merman, who always wanted visitors.

“‘Yes,’ said Civil, ‘I have neighbours up yonder in the west country whom it would be hard to send home again if they got sight of half this wealth;’ and the honest fisherman thought of Dame Sour and her son.

“The merman was greatly delighted with these ​speeches—he thought there was a probability of getting many land-people down, and by and by said to Civil—

“‘Suppose you took up a few jewels, and went up to tell your poor neighbours how welcome we might make them?’

“The prospect of getting back to his country rejoiced Civil's heart, but he had promised not to go without the lady, and, therefore, answered prudently what was indeed true—

“‘Many thanks, my lord, for choosing such a humble man as I am to bear your message; but the people of the west country never believe anything without two witnesses at the least; yet if the poor maid whom I have chosen could be permitted to accompany me, I think they would believe us both.’

“The merman said nothing in reply, but his people, who had heard Civil’s speech, talked it over among themselves till they grew sure that the whole west country would come down, if they only had news of the riches, and petitioned their lord to send up Civil and the poor maid by way of letting them know.

“As it seemed for the public good, the great merman consented; but, being determined to have them back, he gathered out of his treasure chamber ​some of the largest pearls and diamonds that lay convenient, and said—

“‘Take these as a present from me, to let the west country people see what I can do for my visitors.’

“Civil and the lady took the presents, saying—

“‘Oh, my lord, you are too generous. We want nothing but the pleasure of telling of your marvellous riches up yonder.’

“‘Tell everybody to come down, and they will get the like,’ said the merman; ‘and follow my eldest daughter, for she carries the key of the land gate.’

“Civil and the lady followed the mermaid through a winding gallery, which led from the chief banquet hall far into the marble hill. All was dark, and they had neither lamp nor torch, but at the end of the gallery they came to a great stone gate, which creaked like thunder on its hinges. Beyond that there was a narrow cave, sloping up and up like a steep hill-side. Civil and the lady thought they would never reach the top; but at last they saw a gleam of daylight, then a strip of blue sky, and the mermaid bade them stoop and creep through what seemed a crevice in the ground, and both stood up on the broad sea-beach as the day was breaking and the tide ebbing fast away.

​“‘Good times to you among your west country people,’ said the mermaid. ‘Tell any of them that would like to come down to visit us, that they must come here midway between the high and low watermark, when the tide is going out at morning or evening. Call thrice on the sea-people, and we will show them the way.’

“Before they could make answer she had sunk down from their sight, and there was no track or passage there, but all was covered by the loose sand and sea-shells.

“‘Now,’ said the lady to Civil, ‘we have seen the heavens once more, and we will not go back. Cast in the merman’s present quickly before the sun rises;’ and taking the bag of pearls and diamonds, she flung it as far as she could into the sea.

“Civil never was so unwilling to part with anything as that bag, but he thought it better to follow a good example, and tossed his into the sea also. They thought they heard a long moan come up from the waters; but Civil saw his mother’s chimney beginning to smoke, and with the fair lady in her sea-green gown he hastened to the good dame’s cottage.

“The whole village were woke up that morning with cries of ‘Welcome back, my son!’ ‘Welcome ​back, my daughter!’ for the mournful lady knew it was her lost daughter, Faith Feignless, whom the fisherman had brought back, and all the neighbours assembled to hear their story. When it was told, everybody praised Civil for the prudence he had shown in his difficulties, except Sour and his mother: they did nothing but rail upon him for losing such great chances of making himself and the whole country rich. At last, when they heard over and over again of the merman’s treasures, neither mother nor son would consent to stay any longer in the west country, and as nobody persuaded them, and they would not take Civil’s direction, Sour got out his boat and steered away with his mother toward the Merman’s Rock. From that voyage they never came back to the hamlet. Some say they went down and lived among the sea-people; others say—I know not how they learned it—that Sour and his mother grumbled and growled so much that even the sea-people grew weary of them, and turned them and their boat out on the open sea. What part of the world they chose to land on nobody is certain: by all accounts they have been seen everywhere, and I should not be surprised if they were in this good company. As for Civil, he married Faith Feignless, and became a great lord.”

​Here the voice ceased, and two that were clad in sea-green silk, with coronets of pearls, rose up and said—

“That’s our story.”

“Oh, mamma, if we could get down to that country!” said Princess Greedalind.

“And bring all the treasures back with us!” answered Queen Wantall.

“Except the tale of yesterday, and the four that went before it, I have not heard such a story since my brother Wisewit went from me, and was lost in the forest,” said King Winwealth. “Readyrein, the second of my pages, rise, and bring this maiden a purple velvet mantle.”

The mantle was brought, and Snowflower having thanked the king, went down upon her grandmother’s chair; but that night the little girl went no further than the lowest banquet hall, where she was bidden to stay and share the feast, and sleep hard by in a wainscot chamber. That she was well entertained there is no doubt, for King Winwealth had been heard to say that it was not clear to him how he could have got through the seven days’ feast without her grandmother’s chair and its stories; but next day being the last of the seven, things were gayer than ever in the palace. The music had never been so merry, the dishes so rich, ​or the wines so rare; neither had the clamours at the gate ever been so loud, nor the disputes and envies so many in the halls.

Perhaps it was these doings that brought the low spirits earlier than usual on King Winwealth, for after dinner his majesty fell into them so deeply that a message came down from the highest banquet hall, and the cupbearer told Snowflower to go up with her chair, for King Winwealth wished to hear another story.

Now the little girl put on all her finery, from the pink shoes to the purple mantle, and went up in her chair, looking so like a princess that the whole company rose to welcome her. But having made her courtesy, and laid down her head, saying, “Chair of my grandmother, tell me a story,” the clear voice from under the cushion answered—

“Listen to the Story of Merrymind.”