“Who are the three rogues who want to cut down the Wild Wood?” asked Nephew.
Master Toad paused for effect and said quietly, “They are friends of my pater.”
“But, Toad, surely you can make them see sense,” said the Mole. “Wherever did you meet these vagabonds?”
“In court,” said Toad in a subdued voice, “which is just it, don’t you see? The three scoundrels Master Toad refers to are the Most Senior Bishop (whom he and I once insulted) and the Commissioner of Police (from whom he and I once went on the run) and the Very High Judge (before whom he and I have appeared in a variety of ways, though very few of them to our advantage).”
“And these are our enemies?” said the Mole.
“The three most powerful personages in the land after the Monarch,” said Master Toad.
“So our cause is hopeless?” said Nephew.
The Badger hesitated, and glanced at Toad as if the two knew a little more than they were letting on.
“We may not be able to stop this destruction to the River Bank,” he said finally, “but that is not the same as saying there is no way out. There is hope of a kind, but not much. We must attend the Hearing and decide what to do when we learn the outcome. But I would not have been comfortable in this enterprise if Ratty here had not heard this news, bad though it is, and given us the benefit of any thoughts he has on the subject.”
“My thoughts are plain and simple,” said the Rat without demur. “However hopeless the case may seem we must protest and if necessary fight! We must never give up. I shall not be here to fight at your side, much though I would wish it, but Mole will speak for me, should the need arise, and if it helps, let him join my name to those of every other protester! We must not give in till the last, and then —“And then, Ratty?” said the Otter. “What then?”
“Then, my friend, be practical. Do not waste time on a lost cause. Turn your minds to other ways of going forward, however hard they may be, however impossible they seem. That’s something Mole here taught me long ago — and I shall carry it with me on my journey, as I hope you will bear it in mind in the months ahead. More I cannot say.
But it was enough, quite enough, to give a harder edge to the purpose the Badger had shown them, and the sense that though the Rat himself might not be with them, his spirit would always be at their side.
Thus did the Rat’s last evening among them end, and they all dispersed, promising to be up and ready the following morning to see their friend off upon his travels.
Dawn came bright and early, and full of the hustle and bustle of new life, of new arrivals — and new departures.
“It was on a day such as this that we first met,” declared the Rat as he and the Mole, accompanied by the Sea Rat and the others, with the exception of the party from Toad Hall who had yet to arrive, set off for the far side of the Weir, “and it is fitting we have another such morning on which to make our farewells.”
“How I shall miss you!” cried the Mole, who felt excitement for the Rat and sadness for himself in equal measure.
“I shall be back, Mole, in good time; and you did say, did you not, that you would wait for me?”
“I did, Ratty, and I shall, always! But write to me occasionally and let me know you’re well and have seen at last those places whose names you know only from the atlas and the Sea Rat’s tales.”
“My atlas!” cried the Rat, stopping suddenly “I quite forgot to say that I wanted you to have it, or rather to keep it safely for me till I return. I shall write as often as I can, and perhaps you will mark within its pages my passage through Araby and the Orient?”
“I shall, Ratty, I shall!”
The Mole and the Rat chattered on, and Sea Rat and his son said their own farewells, with many more kind words from Badger and Grandson, till the company reached Ratty’s boat, now heavily laden with the victuals they might need for the voyage to the coast.
Toad arrived soon afterwards, and made a rousing speech, declaring that the Rat was a capital fellow and that in journeying from the River Bank he carried all their hopes with him. Toad might have said a good deal more had his speech not been drowned out by the arrival of the Village band, whose members had taken dangerous and precarious stations upon a traction engine, especially hired and driven for the occasion by Master Toad.
Then amidst hissings of steam, the blaring of wind instruments, the huzzahs and farewells of all their friends, the Rat and the Sea Rat finally embarked, and with an expert push from Young Rat, were suddenly off and away.
“Goodbye,” they all cried.
“Goodbye, Sea Rat!”
“Farewell, Pa!”
“Goodbye, Ratty!”
Till only one still cried farewell from the Bank, alone yet not lonely, wistful yet not sad, and that was the Mole.
“Goodbye, dear Ratty!” he called out last of all, as Master Toad tooted the whistle of the traction engine and set off to accompany the travellers as far as the Weir road would allow him. “Good luck, my friend!”
Then, at the last, as the boat reached a turn in the River beyond which it would not be seen, the Water Rat gave the oars to the Sea Rat for a moment and turned, and waved his final farewell to the Mole.
Yet one last voice had still to join itself to theirs. For the sun was rising with the day, spring was all about, and there rose in the air the River’s voice, content now to see her most faithful of companions off and away upon his travels, off for a time beyond her ken.
The Mole heard her song, and understood its words. “She sings not of farewell,” he murmured, wiping away a tear, “but of the safe return of one who could never have found final contentment here till he had journeyed afar. Ratty will be back, he will!”
Then all came and stood by the Mole, and watched till there was no more to see.
In the weeks that followed Ratty’s departure the Mole had no time to grow sad, even had he wished to, for there was much to do in preparation for the Public Hearing concerning the future of the Wild Wood.
No one was more vociferous in their support of the Badger’s opposition to the scheme than the Mole and Mr Toad, yet when it finally came to the attendance at the Hearing in May, they suffered the indignity of being turned away at the doors.
It seemed that the good folk of Lathbury, and in particular the customers of the notorious Hat and Boot Tavern, were on the march, intending to fan the flames of the Wild Wood dispute and so gain publicity for their own cause, which was the right to free access to Lathbury Chase, the great fell above their village which had been in the High Judge’s family since the eighteenth century.
Anticipating trouble, the Town Authority had posted a platoon of police constables by the door of the Town Meeting Hall in which the Hearing was to take place, as well as eight formidable mounted policemen. This array of helmets and blue uniforms brought out a cold sweat upon Toad’s brow, for he and constables did not get on well, and trouble usually ensued when they met.
It transpired that only those individuals who had received a Notice of the Hearing and had brought it along (a copy would not do) were to be admitted —which fortunately included the Badger. Unfortunately, those who were unable to produce such documents were not to be admitted, and that included Toad, the Mole and Master Toad.
“But I’m Toad of Toad Hall, Constable!” cried Toad, considerably put out.
“That may be so, sir, or it may not be, it is not my part to say,” replied the Chief Constable affably, “I am merely here to uphold the laws of the land, under which, namely and pursuant to the Residential Public Hearings Act of 1907, Section 63, paragraph 5 —“
“O, bother all that,” said Toad. “I’m affected, so let me in. Indeed, there was a conference of residents along the River Bank last month which I may say went so far as to take a vote upon the subject of my participation in, and speaking at, the Hearing today, very much as Members of Parliament are elected by their constituents and…”
Toad paused at this point, fearing perhaps tha
t the Chief Constable might enquire more closely into that non-existent vote, but instead the officer allowed a firm and resolute expression to settle upon his face as he said in measured tones, “None shall be admitted without the proper authority, sir.
“Pooh!” cried Toad, making a sudden and foolish dash for the entrance, and signalling the Mole and Master Toad to do likewise.
The Mole was glad he chose not to follow Toad’s advice, as several large officers descended upon the two toads, while all further advance was blocked by two of the mounted policemen and the Very Chief Constable was summoned.
“I wouldn’t advise you to do that again, if I were you, sir,” said he to Toad and his ward, both by then suspended by the scruff of their necks by burly constables, “for we would not want to place you under arrest. If my memory serves, sir, you have seen the inside of the Town Gaol before, have you not, and are a known trouble-maker?”
The constables unceremoniously deposited the considerably chastened Toad and Master Toad some way from the Meeting Hall door, along with their accomplice the Mole, at the feet of the various onlookers who had gathered there to enjoy the fun.
“It isn’t fair!” said Toad, brushing himself down.
“No it isn’t!” declared Master Toad less good— humouredly. “Not to admit a citizen of the land, and then when ‘e protests to threaten ‘im with gaol. In France that constable’s ‘ead would not stay long on ‘is shoulders if the citizens ‘ad their way!”
Just lately Master Toad, in whose final year at school the study of European history had loomed large, had been studying the French Revolution and had discovered some radical roots he did not know he had.
Master Toad’s sentiments might well have inflamed the passions of a Parisian mob, but in the Town passions rise more slowly and the best one member of the crowd could do was to shout, “No, it ain’t fair, but what do you expect when the Very Senior Bishop himself is involved? Not fairness, that’s for sure!”
“And the Commissioner of Police!” cried the indefatigable Master Toad. “That gentleman is in on it too!”
“Is he?” asked another.
“That’s a scandal!” declared a third.
“And what’s more,” cried Toad himself, seeing that the crowd was gathering about him and unable to resist the opportunity it offered, “the High Judge is lining his pockets too at the expense of us Wild Wooders!”
“That’s right, and he’s inside the Hall right now, conducting the meeting hisself in his own favour!” thundered another protester.
“Won’t be for long, not if the men of the Hat and Boot get their way!”
“What’s that?” called out Toad, for he had fond memories of the Hat and Boot Tavern in Lathbury, a low dive from the clutches of whose angry customers Ratty and Mole had once rescued him.
“You don’t think the Wild Wood’s the only scheme his High Judgeship has got his fingers into, do you, mate?” said Toad’s latest ally, quickly informing Toad of the matter of Lathbury Chase.
“It isn’t fair!” cried Master Toad, sensing this to be the best slogan for the day.
“No,” cried Toad, “it isn’t fair!”
“Please, Toad,” begged Mole, for he could see that the crowd might soon turn ugly, “I really think it would be wisest if we left this matter for Badger to debate inside.”
“Pooh, Mole!” cried Toad, the gleam of public glory in his eye. “Debate and discussion never achieved anything. It isn’t fair!”
“No, I suppose it isn’t fair,” began the Mole.
But these were unwise words to repeat, for hearing them and thinking he was one of the leaders, the crowd hoisted the Mole upon its shoulders along with Toad and Master Toad as the chant grew loud and rhythmic, and police and protesters swayed back and forth.
“It isn’t fair, it isn’t fair Toad of Toad Hall says it isn’t fair!”
Meanwhile, inside the Hall, and with the three personages so heavily involved in the scheme all present on the platform (one presiding, one watching out for breaches of the peace, and one praying), Badger was coming to the end of a long and well-argued speech against the scheme.
“We have natural right and justice on our side, m’lud, and the rights of commoners as well, and thus far we have been peaceful in our protest, and I may say very reason —The chanting from outside was louder now, and almost sufficient to drown the Badger’s measured words.
“— reasonable, I say, and peacef—”
There were sounds of skirmishing and the neighing of horses and shouting of men.
“— peaceful, as I have suggested and —“
Then outside it was suddenly peaceful no more.
Hoisted up as they had been, Toad, Master Toad and finally even the Mole, rather let things go to their heads and shouted all the more, playing to the growing crowd around them, who were loving it.
Even so, the constables might have contained the mob had not a formidable army of men, women and children, not to mention some very rough-looking weasels and stoats, just then appeared from that cobbled way that is called Lathbury Turn.
Toad saw them, and knew them at once, for many of them were Hat and Boot customers.
Perhaps, after all, he did feel a momentary pang of terror and fear, and saw visions of the interior of the Castle’s deepest dungeons, and its condemned cell, which he knew so well, but such inner warnings did not survive long.
No longer, indeed, than the first cry of the Lathbury folk upon seeing him.
“It’s Mr Toad come to lead us!” they cried. “And ‘e’s got his own set of followers to help and the constables are trying to arrest them! Come on, lads!”
This analysis of the situation was not quite accurate, but as Toad himself had said, what is the use of discussion and debate?
The Lathbury men joined in the fray, someone put an umbrella in Toad’s hand as an emblem of his authority, and he waved it and uttered his battle cry, “It isn’t fair! Charge!”
So unseemly a mêlée as then ensued had not been known in the Town’s long history since the notorious St Scholastica’s Day riots of 1355 when the common folk were similarly put upon by those who held power and authority.
In very short order the constables guarding the entrance to the Meeting Hall were displaced, and three of the mounted policemen rapidly dispossessed of their horses, and Toad, Master Toad and the reluctant Mole put in their saddles instead. The other mounted policemen immediately attempted to put right this gross indignity by chasing after the miscreants all about the Town, which led to other horses bolting, vegetable carts being overturned and shop windows being broken.
Worse still, the old familiar madness quite overtook Mr Toad, who foolishly stole a police-man’s helmet and put it on, while Master Toad, not to be outdone it seemed, rode up the Cathedral steps and uttered words which if not quite blasphemies, certainly lacked the grace of good divinity.
As for poor Mole, a less able horseman than these two, he was left suspended from the ladder rest of a street light, whence he was rescued and promptly arrested by a posse of constables.
A great deal was said in the Magistrate’s Court the following morning: of how the Public Hearing had broken up in disarray, the Very Senior Bishop temporarily de-frocked, the Police Commissioner handcuffed back to back with the Chief Constable, and the Very High Judge summarily tried and found wanting by the unruly Lathbury Mob.
There were mitigating circumstances, however, the most substantial of which was the extraordinary horsemanship and skill displayed by Toad, the policeman’s helmet now firmly stuck on his head and quite obscuring his view, who as chance and good fortune would have it, galloped back through the crowd so that the High Judge was able to grasp the reins of his horse and so be dragged off to safety even as he was about to be strung up on a hastily erected gibbet in the marketplace.
“All in all,” said the High Judge in his summing-up, his bruises still showing, “I am inclined to take a lenient view of those unseemly proceedings, if only beca
use your leader, Mr Toad, showed himself at the last moment to be contrite and sensible and to put the upholding of life and liberty of the law before all else!
“A month in gaol for the lot of you, and a fine of ten shillings each to you leaders, Mr Toad, Master Toad and Mr Mole, and Mr Badger. I will only add this to you, Mr Mole and Mr Badger, who have not been in my court before and whom I had understood to be upright and sober citizens. Do not commit another crime within my jurisdiction or your fine will be much larger, and your custodial sentence eternal!”
“Yes, m’lud’ said the chastened Mole.
“I won’t!” growled the Badger.
“Case dismissed!”
“Another triumph!” crowed Toad as they went below to begin their sentence, for he had readied himself for the death sentence and felt that a month in gaol (with time off for good behaviour) at someone else’s expense was not so bad considering what fun they had all had.
“Triumph?” growled the Badger as the doors of his cell were opened to admit him. “We went to protest against the felling of the Wild Wood, not to be put in gaol for a month! I greatly fear that the Town Authority will take advantage of our enforced absence from the River Bank to cut down the whole of the Wild Wood! This is not a triumph, Toad, but the beginning of the end of all we have known and loved!”
X
Farewell to the
Wild Wood
The Badger was not far wrong in his predictions, though the Wild Wood was still standing, and in the full glory of its summer colours, by the time the four of them returned to the River Bank.
Waiting for each of them this time, however, was formal Notice of a second Hearing with special dispensation for only the Badger and the Mole to attend, which in the Badger’s view was a wise proceeding.
The Willows and Beyond Page 14