Legends from River & Mountain

by Carmen Sylva; Alma Strettell

At first this caused the rich Peter some inconvenience, for the poor sold-up wretches would besiege his house in swarms, the men begging for a little respite, the women trying to soften the heart of stone, and the little children crying for a crust of bread. But he soon provided himself with a couple of fierce bloodhounds, and then the “cats’ music,” as he called it, stopped at once.

The person who gave him the most trouble was “the old wife,” as he called her, and who was she but Mistress Munk, his own mother. She had fallen into misery and want, at the time their house and goods had been sold up, and since her son had come home a rich man, he had never troubled himself about her. Now she would sometimes hobble up to the house, leaning on her stick, old, broken-down, and feeble. She did not dare go in, for he had once driven her away; but it cut her to the heart to be obliged to live on the charity of others, when her own son could have made her old age comfortable and free from care. But the cold heart was never moved by the sight of the well-known form and features, now so pale and wasted, or of the outstretched hand and imploring gaze. When she knocked at the door on Saturday evenings, he grudgingly drew forth a sixpenny-piece, wrapped it in paper, and sent it out to her by a serving-man. He could hear her trembling voice uttering thanks, and wishes for his prosperity—he could hear her cough as she crept from the door, but he thought no more of it, except that he had been obliged to spend another sixpence uselessly.

At last he bethought himself of marrying. He knew that any father in the district would gladly give him his daughter, but he was particular in his choice, for he desired men to praise his luck and his wisdom in this matter too. So he rode about through all the forest, looking here and there, yet none of the handsome Black Forest girls seemed handsome enough for him. At last, after having sought in vain among all the pretty girls at the various dances and meeting-places, he heard that the fairest and best girl in the whole country was the daughter of a poor wood-cutter. She was said to live very quietly, in the strictest seclusion, managing her father’s house diligently and well, and never showing herself at a dance, not even on the greatest holidays. When Peter heard of this wonder of the forest, he determined to woo her, and rode off to the hut that had been pointed out to him.

The father of beautiful Lisbeth received this fine gentleman with much surprise, and was even more surprised to learn that he was the rich Master Peter Munk, and was anxious to become his son-in-law. The old man was not long in making up his mind, for he fancied all his care and poverty would now be at an end; he even gave his consent without consulting Lisbeth, and the good child was so obedient that she made no objection to becoming Mistress Peter Munk.

But the poor girl was far from having as pleasant a life as she had expected. She had thought she understood housekeeping, but she could never please Master Peter; she had compassion on the poor and suffering, and as her husband was so rich, she thought it no sin to give a penny to a poor beggar-woman, or a dram to an old man; but when Master Peter one day discovered this, he growled out with rough voice and angry looks:

“What is this thou art after, wasting my substance on vagabonds and ragamuffins? Didst thou bring anything into the house, that thou shouldst have the right to give anything away? Thy father’s beggar’s staff will warm no soup, and yet thou canst throw money about like a queen. Let me catch thee at it again, and thou shalt feel my hand!”

Beautiful Lisbeth wept alone in her room over her husband’s hard heart, and often wished herself home again in her father’s poor hut, rather than in the house of rich, but niggardly, stony-hearted Peter. Ah! if she had only known that he had a heart of marble, that could neither love her nor any one else, she would no longer have wondered at him.

Now, when she sat at her door, and a beggar came up, and took off his hat and began his little speech, she would close her eyes, so as not to see his misery, and clench her hand tightly, lest it should slip into her pocket and fetch out a coin.

Therefore it came to pass that beautiful Lisbeth fell into bad repute through all the forest, and people said she was even more of a miser than her husband.

But one day she was sitting at her door, spinning and singing a little song, for she was light of heart, because the weather was fine, and Master Peter had ridden far afield; and presently a little man came down the road, carrying a large, heavy sack; she could hear him a long way off, panting for breath. Mistress Lisbeth looked at him pityingly, and thought to herself that such an old man should not be so heavily laden.