Bedtime Tale: The Water Babies Ch 4/Part2

Enjoy this bedtime tale to help you drift off into a peaceful slumber. Tonight we read Chapter 4/Part 2 of the classic, The Water Babies, by Charles Kingsley. This reading describes two humans who catch Tom and what befells them. This audio is perfect for children or adults who want to relax, discover magic, or find adventure before a great night's sleep.

Transcript

The Water Babies,

A Fairy Tale for a Land Baby,

By Charles Kingsley,

Chapter 4,

Part 2.

Now it befell that,

On the very shore,

And over the very rocks,

Where Tom was sitting with his friend the lobster,

There walked one day the little white lady,

Ellie herself,

And with her,

A very wise man indeed,

Professor Thimmenspurts.

His mother was a Dutchwoman,

And therefore he was born Caraco.

Of course,

You have learned your geography,

And therefore know why.

And his father was a Pole,

And therefore he was brought up at Petropolowski.

Of course,

You have learned your modern politics,

And therefore know why.

But for all that he was as thorough an Englishman as ever coveted his neighbor's goods,

And his name,

As I said,

Was a very ancient and noble Polish name.

He was,

As I said,

A very great naturalist,

And chief professor in the new university,

Which the King of the Cannibal Islands had founded.

And,

Being a member of the Acclimatization Society,

He had come here to collect all the nasty things,

Which he could find on the coast of England,

And turn them loose round the Cannibal Islands,

Because they had not nasty things enough there to eat what they left.

But he was a very worthy,

Kind,

Good-natured little old gentleman,

And very fond of children,

For he was not the least a cannibal himself,

And very good to all the world,

As long as it was good to him.

Only one fault he had,

Which cock robins have likewise,

As you may see it if you look out of the nursery window,

That,

When anyone else found a curious worm,

He would hop round them,

And peck them,

And set up his tail,

And bristle up his feathers,

Just as a cock robin would,

And declare that he found the worm first,

And that it was his worm,

And if not,

That then it was not a worm at all.

He had met Sir John at Scarborough,

Or Fleetwood,

Or somewhere or other,

If you don't care where,

Nobody else does,

And he had made acquaintance with him,

And become very fond of his children.

Now,

Sir John knew nothing about sea cockleel birds,

And cared less,

Provided the fishmonger set him good fish for dinner.

And my lady knew as little,

But she thought it proper that the children should know something.

For in the stupid old times,

You must understand,

Children were taught to know one thing,

And to know it well.

But in these enlightened new times,

They are taught to know a little about everything,

And to know it all ill,

Which is a great deal pleasanter and easier,

And therefore quite right.

So Ellie and he were walking on the rocks,

And he was showing her about one in ten thousand of all the beautiful and curious things which are to be seen there.

But little Ellie was not satisfied with them at all.

She liked much better to play with the live children,

Or even the dolls,

Which she could pretend were alive.

And at last she said honestly,

I don't care about all these things,

Because they can't play with me,

Or talk to me.

If there were little children now in the water,

As there used to be,

And I could see them,

I should like that.

Children in the water?

You strange little duck,

Said the professor.

Yes,

Said Ellie,

I know there used to be children in the water,

And mermaids too,

And mermen.

I saw them all in a picture at home,

Of a beautiful lady sailing in a car,

Drawn by dolphins,

And babies flying around her,

And one sitting in her lap.

And the mermaids swimming and beautiful and playing,

And the mermen trumpeting on conch shells,

And it is called The Triumph of Galadia.

And there is a burning mountain in the picture behind.

It hangs on the great staircase,

And I've looked at it ever since I was a baby,

And dreamt about it a hundred times,

And it is so beautiful that it must be true.

But the professor had not the least notion of allowing that things were true,

Merely because people thought them beautiful.

For at that rate,

He said,

The Baltus would be quite right in thinking it a fine thing to eat their grandpapas,

Because they thought it an ugly thing to put them underground.

The professor indeed went further,

And held that no man was forced to believe anything to be true,

But what he could see,

Hear,

Taste,

Or handle.

He held very strange theories about a good many things.

He'd even got up once at the British Association,

And declared that apes had hippopotamus majors in their brains,

Just as men have.

Which was a shocking thing to say.

For if it were so,

What would become of the faith,

Hope,

And charity of immortal millions?

You may think that there are more important differences between you and an ape,

Such as being able to speak,

And make machines,

And know right and wrong,

And say your prayers,

And other little matters of that kind.

But that is a child's fancy,

My dear.

Nothing to be depended on when the great hippopotamus tests.

If you have a hippopotamus major in your brain,

You are no ape,

Though you had four hands,

No feet,

And were more apish than the apes of all aperies.

But if a hippopotamus major is ever discovered in one single ape's brain,

Nothing will save your great,

Great,

Great,

Great,

Great,

Great,

Greater,

Greatest grandmother from having been an ape,

Too.

No,

My dear little man,

Always remember that the one true,

Certain,

Final,

And all-important difference between you and an ape is that you have a hippopotamus major in your brain,

And it has none,

And that,

Therefore,

To discover one in its brain will be a very wrong and dangerous thing,

At which everyone will be much shocked,

As we may suppose there were none at the professor.

Though,

Really,

After all,

It doesn't much matter,

Because,

As Lord Dundery and others would put it,

Nobody but men have hippopotamuses in their brains.

So,

If a hippopotamus was discovered in an ape's brain,

Why,

It would not be one,

But something else.

But the professor had gone,

I am sorry to say,

Even further than that,

For he had read at the British Association at Melbourne,

Australia,

In the year 1999,

A paper which assured everyone who found herself the better or wiser for the news that there were not,

Never had been,

And could not be any rational or half-rational beings,

Except men,

Anywhere,

Anyone,

Or anyhow,

That nymphs,

Satyrs,

Fauns,

Dwarfs,

Trolls,

Elves,

Gnomes,

Fairies,

Brownies,

Nixes,

Willis,

Kobolds,

Leprechauns,

Banshees,

Will-o'-the-wisps,

Follets,

Lutons,

Maggots,

Goblins,

Afrits,

Marids,

Djinns,

Ghouls,

Parrots,

Deeves,

Angels,

Archangels,

Imps,

Bogies,

Or worse,

Were nothing at all,

And pure bosh and wind.

And he had to get up very early in the morning to prove that,

And to eat his breakfast overnight.

But he did it,

At least to his own satisfaction.

So the Professor and the Divine met at dinner that evening,

And sat together on the sofa afterwards for an hour,

And talked over the state of female labor on the Antarctic continent,

And each vowed that the other was the best company he had ever met in his life.

What an advantage it is to be the men of the world!

From all which you may guess,

That the Professor was not the least of little Ellie's opinion.

So he gave her a succinct compendium of his famous paper at the British Association,

In a form suited for the youthful mind.

But as we have gone over his arguments against water babies already once before,

Which is once too often,

We will not repeat them here.

Now little Ellie was,

I suppose,

A stupid little girl,

For instead of being convinced by the Professor's arguments,

She only asked the same question,

Over and over again.

But why are there not water babies?

I trust and hope that it was because the Professor trod at the moment on the edge of a very sharp muscle,

And hurt one of his corns,

Sadly.

And he answered quite sharply,

Forgetting that he was a scientific man,

And therefore ought to have known that he couldn't know,

And that he was just a logician,

And therefore ought to have known that he could have not proved a universal negative.

I say,

I trust and hope it was because the muscle hurt his corn,

That the Professor answered quite sharply,

Because there ain't.

Which was not even good English,

My dear boy,

For as you know from Aunt Agatate's arguments,

The Professor ought to have said,

If he was so angry as to say anything of the kind,

Because there are not,

Or are none,

Or are none of them,

Or because they do not exist.

And he groped with his net under the weeds so violently,

That as it befell,

He caught poor little Tom.

He felt the net very heavy,

And lifted it out quickly,

And Tom all entangled in the meshes.

Dear me,

He cried,

What a large pink holothurian,

With hands too.

It must be connected with synapta.

And he took him out.

It actually has eyes,

He cried.

Why,

It must be a cellopod.

This is the most extraordinary.

No,

I ain't,

Cried Tom as loud as he could,

For he did not like to be called bad names.

It's a water baby,

Cried Ellie,

And of course it was.

Water fiddlesticks,

My dear,

Said the professor,

And he turned away sharply.

There was no denying it,

It was a water baby,

And he had said a moment ago there were none.

What was he to do?

He would have liked,

Of course,

To have taken Tom home in a bucket.

He would not have put him in spirits,

Of course not.

He would have kept him alive and petted him,

For he was a very kind old gentleman,

And written a book about him,

And given him two long names,

Of which the first would have said little about Tom,

And the second all about himself.

But what would all the learned men say to him after his speech at the British Association?

And what would Ellie say after what he had just told her?

There was a wise old heathen once who said,

The greatest reverence is due to children.

That is,

That grown people should never say or do anything wrong before children,

Lest they should set them a bad example.

Cousin Cramchild says it means the greatest respectfulness is expected from little boys.

But he was raised in a country where little boys were not expected to be respectful,

Because all of them are as good as the president.

Well,

Everyone knows his own concerns best,

So perhaps they are.

But poor Cousin Cramchild,

To do him justice,

Not being of that opinion,

And having a moral mission,

And being no scholar to speak of,

And hard up for an authority,

Why,

It was a very great temptation for him.

But some people,

And I am afraid the professor was one of them,

Interpret that in a more strange,

Curious,

One-sided,

Left-handed,

Topsy-turvy,

Inside-out,

Behind-before fashion than even Cousin Cramchild.

For they make it mean that you must show your respect for children,

But never confessing yourself in the wrong to them,

Even if you know that you are so,

Lest they should lose confidence in their elders.

Now,

If the professor had said to Ellie,

Yes,

My darling,

It is a water baby,

And a very wonderful thing it is,

And it shows how little I know of the wonders of nature,

In spite of forty years' honest labor.

I was just telling you that there were no such creatures,

And behold,

Here is one to confound my conceit,

And show me that nature can do,

And has done,

Beyond all the man's poor fancy can imagine.

So let us thank the maker,

And inspirer,

And lord of nature for all his wonderful and glorious works,

And try and find out something about this one.

I think that,

If the professor had said that,

Little Ellie would have believed him more firmly,

And respected him more deeply,

And loved him better than ever she had done before.

But he was of a different opinion.

He hesitated a moment.

He longed to keep Tom,

And yet he half wished he never had caught him,

And at last he quite longed to get rid of him.

So he turned away,

And poked Tom with his finger,

For want of anything better to do,

And said carelessly,

My dear little maid,

You must have dreamt of water babies last night.

Your head is so full of them.

Now Tom had been in the most horrible and unspeakable fright all the while,

And had kept as quiet as he could,

Though he was called a holothurian and a cephalopod,

For it was fixed in his little head that if a man with clothes on caught him,

He might put clothes on him too,

And make him a dirty black chimney sweep of him again.

But when the professor poked him,

It was more than he could bear,

And between fright and rage,

He turned away as violently as a mouse in a corner,

And bit the professor's finger till it bled.

Oh,

Ah,

Yeah,

Cried he,

And glad of the excuse to be rid of Tom.

Dropped him on the seaweed,

And thence he dived into the water,

And was gone in a moment.

But it was a water baby,

And I heard it speak,

Cried Ellie.

Ah,

It's gone.

Then she jumped down off the rock to try and catch Tom before he slipped into the sea.

Too late,

And what was worse,

As she sprang down,

She slipped,

And fell some six feet with her head on a sharp rock,

And lay quite still.

The professor picked her up,

Tried to wake her,

Called to her,

Cried over her,

For he loved her very much,

But she would not waken at all.

So he took her up in his arms,

And carried her to her governess,

And they all went home,

And little Ellie was put to bed,

And lay there quite still.

Only now and then she woke up and called out about the water baby,

But no one knew what she meant,

And the professor did not tell,

For he was ashamed to tell.

And after about a week,

One moonlight night,

The fairies came flying in at the window,

And brought her such a pretty pair of wings that she could not help putting them on,

And she flew with them out of the window,

And over the land,

And over the sea,

And up through the clouds,

And nobody heard or saw anything of her for a very long while.

And this is why they say that no one has ever yet seen a water baby.

For my part,

I believe that the naturalists get dozens of them when they're out dredging,

But they say nothing about them,

And throw them overboard again,

In fear of spoiling their theories.

But you see the professor was found out,

As everyone is in due time.

A very terrible old fairy found the professor out.

She felt his bumps,

And cast his nativity,

And took the lunars of him carefully inside and out.

And so she knew what he would do as well as if she had seen it in a print book,

As they say in the dear old West Country.

And he did it.

And so he was found out beforehand,

As everybody always is.

And the old fairy will find out the naturalists someday,

And put them in the times.

And then on whose side will the laugh be?

So the old fairy took him in hand very severely there and then.

But she says she is always most severe with the best people,

Because there is the most chance of curing them.

And therefore they are the patients who pay her best.

For she has to work on some salary as the emperor of China's physicians.

It is a pity they all do not do that.

No cure,

No pay.

So she took the poor professor in hand,

And because he was not content with things as they are,

She filled his head with things as they are not,

To try if he would like them better.

And because he would not choose to believe in a water baby when he saw it,

She made him believe in worse things than water babies.

In unicorns,

Fire drakes,

Manticoras,

Basilics,

Griffins,

Phoenixes,

Rocks,

Orcs,

Dog-headed men,

Three-headed dogs,

And other pleasant creatures,

Which folks think never existed yet,

And which folks hope never will exist,

Though they know nothing about the matter and never will.

And these creatures are so upset,

Terrified,

Flustered,

Aggravated,

Confused,

Astounded,

Horrified,

And totally flabbergasted the poor professor that the doctor said he was out of his wits for three months.

And perhaps they were right,

As they are now and then.

So all the doctors in the county were called in to make a report on his case,

And of course every one of them flatly contradicted the other.

Else what use is there in being a man of science?

But at last the majority agreed on a report in the true medical language,

One half bad Latin,

The other half worse Greek,

And the rest,

What might have been English,

If they had only learned to write it.

But what they proceeded to do my lady never knew,

For she was so frightened at the long words that she ran for her life and locked herself in the bedroom,

For fear of being squashed by the words and strangled by the sentence.

It was quite shocking.

What can they think is the matter with him?

Said she to the old nurse.

That his wits just addled.

Maybe a wee unbelief and heathenry,

Quoth she.

Then why can't they have said so?

And the heaven and the sea and the rocks and the vowels re-echoed.

Why indeed,

But the doctors never heard them.

So she made Sir John write to the times to command the Chancellor for the time being to put a tax on long words.

A light tax on words over three syllables,

Which are necessary evils,

Like rats,

But like them must be kept down judiciously.

A heavy tax on words over four syllables,

Such as spontaneity,

Spiritualism,

Spuriosity,

Etc.

And words over five syllables,

Of which I hope no one will see any examples.

A totally prohibitory tax.

And a similar prohibitory tax on words derived from three or more languages at once.

Words derived from two languages having become so common that there was no more hope of rooting them out than rooting out pethouans.

Now the doctors had it all their own way and to work that way in earnest.

And they gave the poor professor divers and sundry medicines as prescribed by the ancients and moderns.

But they found that a great deal too much trouble,

As most people have said.

And so they had to recourse to boring a hole in his head,

Which did no good either.

But nothing would do,

For he screamed and cried all day for a water baby to come and drive away the monsters.

And of course they did not try to find one because they did not believe in them.

So they were forced at last to let the poor professor ease his mind by writing a great book,

Exactly contrary to all his old opinions,

In which he proved that the moon was made of green cheese and that all the mites in it,

Which you may see sometimes quite plain through a telescope,

If you will only keep the lens dirty enough,

As Mr.

Weeks keeps his voltaic battery,

Are nothing in the world but little babies who are hatching and swarming up there in millions,

Ready to come down into his world whenever children want a new little brother or sister.

But one thing is certain,

That when the good old doctor got his book written,

He felt considerably relieved,

And a few things infinitely worse,

To wit,

From pride and vainglory,

And from blindness and hardness of the heart,

And of a good many other ugly things besides,

Whereon the foul floodwater in his brains ran down and cleared to a fine coffee color,

Such as fish like to rise in,

Till very fine,

Clean,

Fresh-run fish did begin to rise in his brains,

And he caught two or three of them,

Which is exceedingly fine sport for brain rivers,

And anatomized them carefully,

And never mentioned what he found out from them,

Except to little children,

And became even after a sadder and wiser man,

Which is a very good thing to become,

My dear little boy,

Even though one has to pay a heavy price for the blessing.

And that is the end of our story this evening.

Until next time,

Sweet dreams.

Reviews

So grateful for Hilary’s readings which have provided me with literally hundreds of hours of extra necessary sleep. 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼❤️
One week later and having a very wakeful night which is a bit of a disappointment but listening to this story and there are a few mistakes as in, Krackow (spelling?) is not in Holland or maybe you said Poland? Will have to listen again. There was the mention of the professor being half Dutch! Anyway…

Strange… It’s as if the characters are almost forgotten about after a while, like… what ever happened to Ellie?

I didn’t hear much of the story, but what I heard I enjoyed. Your voice and the cadence is so soothing I was asleep in minutes. Thank you Hilary! 💕