Original subtitles

Ichabod and Mr.

Toad Ichabod

Ichabod and Mr. Toad

If you were asked to choose the most fabulous character in English

literature, who would it be?

Robin Hood?

King Arthur?

Becky Sharp?

Sherlock Holmes?

Oliver Twist, perhaps?

Well, any one of them would be an excellent choice.

Still, for the most fabulous character of all, I would nominate a toad.

J.

Thaddeus Toad, Esquire.

Have you never met him?

You'll find his story in this delightful little book, The Wind and the Willows.

Toad, you might say, was the one disturbing element.

Incurable adventurer, mad, righteous, tried everything, positive mania for

fads, and he never counted the cost.

Had a host of fair-weather friends, of course, but there were only three who

had his best interests at heart.

One... There was a badger, Mack Badger.

And then there was a water rat, a bit stuffy perhaps, but really a fine

fellow.

And a mole, a gentle creature, kind and sympathetic.

They all made their homes in a quaint little community along a riverbank.

Now, on that particular day, Mole was in a hurry because... Oh, yes.

Of course, because he was late for tea.

A regrettable habit. Still, Rat had more or less learned to put up with it. And

so, as usual, sorry, Rat, says Mole. Quite all right, says Rat. Two lumps, if

you please, says Mole. And then, just as they were getting comfortably settled...

Oh? Special delivery, Mr. Rat. Thank you,

Postman.

How's everything on the river today, sir?

Just quiet, as usual. Thank you.

Mole, listen to this.

Dear Rat, you and Mole must come to Toad Hall at once.

Urgent. A. McBadger.

Now, Rat was certain Toad was making trouble again.

Well, the answer to that lay just around the bend at Toad Hall, the ancestral

home of J.

Thaddeus himself.

This impressive structure, by the way, was by all odds the finest home on the

river. The animals were tremendously proud of it. They felt it gave the whole

community an air of respectability.

To lose Toad Hall was, of course, unthinkable, and yet it was no secret

that Toad's costly follies had brought him to the brink of bankruptcy.

So as a last resort, Macbadger had volunteered to take over and put Toad's

house in order.

Smashed fence.

Trois guineas.

Damage? Lump boost.

Four pun six.

Destruction? Oh, henhouse.

Oh, how can a man figure out all this?

I will not be put off! Silence!

I want my money! Silence!

You'll get your money in due course. Now go along with you.

I'll pay no more the day.

Why did I ever assume the responsibility of looking after you?

Oh, didn't I tell you?

Ah,

ah, it's you, Rat, and Mole, too.

Thank goodness, lads.

You've come at last.

Poor MacBadger.

He'd reached the end of his rope, for, as he said himself, I'm practically a

nervous wreck.

I say, MacBadger, what seems to be the trouble?

This time he's going too far.

But he promised us. Promises?

Ha! What good are his promises when these wild manes take him?

Now look, you're his closest friends, are you not, Pierce?

Very dear friends. Then, lads, you've got to find Todd and stop him.

What's he doing?

He's got a new mania.

He's rompaging about the county in a canary yellow gypsy cart

with a horse named Cyril.

Carry her!

To Devonshire, to Lancashire, or Worcestershire, I'm not so sure, we'll

have to wait and see.

Oh, are we on our way to Dover, or going merrily over the jolly old road that

goes to Plymouth? Oh, no!

We're merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily on our way to...

Hello,

you fellows.

You're the very animals I was coming to see.

Come along, hop up here. We'll go for a jolly ride.

The open road, the... Dusty Highway.

Come.

I'll show you the world.

Travel. Change.

Excitement.

How stupid of me.

I want you fellows to meet my noble steed, Cyril.

Hi.

That's me.

A bit of a trotter. A bit of a rotter.

How do you do? How do you do? How do you do? How do you do?

Say, Goofy, your friends seem to be a bit on the stuffy side.

What?

Toad, we want to have a talk with you.

Oh, a visit.

Extended. Toad, this is serious.

You've got to give up that horse and cart.

Even my... My dear Ratty.

This is my career.

Surely you can't mean... I do mean it.

You've got to stop this foolishness.

No, you must.

No, I won't do it. Your reckless behavior is giving us everyone's

advantage. I won't even listen.

You're fast becoming a menace to society.

You won't think of yourself.

Think of poor old MacBadger. As for that horse, no good can ever come from

getting about with such a fast and irresponsible beast.

Get him, Bull! Come down, Tootie! Stop it! Let me go!

Giddy-up, Siddle! Giddy-up!

No use! You'll never get me to give this up!

Hey, Governor, it's a motorcar.

Motorcar?

A

motorcar.

Gad, what have I been missing?

it isn't he hasn't it is and he has a new mania motor

mania mania that's it that's what it was a positive mania

no telling where it would end either might linger for months and with toad

hall at stake well rat and mole had no choice there's only one thing to do lock

the poor chap at his chambers and keep him there until the poison worked out of

his system

Let me out of here!

Open up!

Open up, I say!

Please, Ratty, Mowly, open the door!

Now, of course, playing jailer to one's dearest friend wasn't exactly a pleasant

situation. In fact, Mowly weakened right at the start and wanted to call it

quits. But Ratty said, no, definitely not. This time, they must be firm.

After all, it wasn't just a matter of saving Toad from himself.

There was MacBadger to consider, and Toad Hall, and all that it stood for.

Now, there was only one thing wrong with Ratty's cure for Toad's motor mania.

It didn't work.

You see, Toad was far too clever, and at the moment, completely mad.

He was determined to get a motor car, even if he had to beg, borrow, or...

In the face of His Majesty's call, the precise and most independent J. Thaddeus

Toad, Toad Hall, Whipperman, Count Doodle, Bunton, Max, Morton, Surrey,

24th of August, set forth in the following brief.

Accused as J. Thaddeus Toad of stealing a motor car, of driving said stolen

vehicle in a reckless manner on the public eye road, to the endangerment of

sundry subjects of His Majesty, their life, and limbs.

Counsel for the Crown, proceed with the case.

My Lord,

I call as first Crown witnesses, Mr.

Ratt and Mr.

Mort.

Is it true that you had the accused locked in his own house because he

threatened to get a motorcar?

Did you or did you not have him locked up?

We did. Thank you! That is all.

Next witness.

Mr. Angus McBadger.

As trustee of the Toad Estate, you knew of the prisoner's mania for motorcars?

Well, I... And due to his reckless extravagance, you cut off his allowance.

Well, I... Then he was, to the best of your knowledge, without funds.

Well, I... That is all.

Thank you.

Gentlemen of the jury, the crown rests.

Counsel for the defense will present his case.

Millard, with the court's indulgence, I rise prepared to plead my...

own defense holy holy stop it gentlemen

of the jury i call as my first witness cyril

proudbottom cyril proudbottom are

you acquainted with the defendant j thaddeus toad lord lover don't yes he's

one of the jolliest chaps i've ever run across and simply tons of money.

Good fellow, eh?

Throws it away.

But he wasn't throwing it away that day.

You heard Mr. McFadden testify that his allowance was cut off.

Then how did he get the motorcar?

The only way a gentleman gets anything.

The honest way.

And what is the honest way?

Ha-ha. I thought you wouldn't know that, Governor.

You're all sh...

The witness may testify in his own words.

Right-o, governor.

Now I'll give you the facts of the case.

For when Toadie escaped from his boudoir, he come heading straight for my

place.

Soon we was off down the highway, but hadn't gone far, I confess, when all of

a sudden, with a rush and a roar, something passed like the London

Express.

It was big, it was red.

It was beautiful.

A motor car.

A bit of all right.

Tony was transfixed with the rapture. You could tell it was love at

first sight.

The motor pulled up to a tavern, wherein was located a bar.

And we watched while some tough-looking weasels got out of that lovely red car.

Now, weasels, I know, are deceitful and not to be trusted at all.

But how could I know they'd stolen that car?

I didn't have no crystal ball.

And the governor, he's not one to dally. He made up his mind like a flash.

He says, try it for size, my good Cyril, while I see what they'll take for it,

cash.

So into the tavern he saunters.

where the barman was back at the bar.

And he said, Cheerio, tavern keeper!

Who's the owner of that hot-looking car?

The barman, a codger named Winky, leaned over the bar and said,

Why?

The governor answered, That car must be mine. Whatever the price is, I'll buy.

But Toad...

found he hadn't no money so he promptly offered a trade the weasels appeared to

be willing in a moment the bargain was made then toady drawed up a paper

with almost incredible speed and he called on old winky the barman to pop

over and witness the deed now the governor's not

a bit stingy He never does anything small.

The weasels gave him the red motor car, and he gave the weasels

Toad Hall.

Hmm.

Traded Toad Hall.

An estate worth a hundred thousand pounds for a motor car.

I don't expect you to believe anything.

But fortunately, I can produce a witness.

Call Mr.

Winky. Mr. Winky, Mr. Winky.

My lord, gentlemen.

Facing you in the witness box is a citizen of substance and standing.

A man of unimpeachable honesty.

Now, Mr.

Winky, do you recall an incident that took place in your establishment last

August the 12th that I was a party to?

Oh, yes, sir. That I do, sir.

Well, then, just tell the court what happened.

You tried to sell me a stolen motor car.

That's a deliverer lie, you monkey-faced little rumpot!

No! I've been framed!

Let me go!

Help! Help!

Help!

Toad guilty!

Toad guilty! The news of Toad's disgrace rocked the nation.

It seems the court was determined to make an example of him.

Of course, Toad's friends tried to help him, but they were blocked at every

turn. Why, they must have reopened the case at least a dozen times.

Appealed to this court, that court, any court.

But the decision stood.

The case of J.

Thaddeus Toad was closed.

Yes?

Once again, it was a white Christmas.

And once again, the melodies of Yuletide hung sweet upon the winter's air.

Hearts were gay and spirits high.

Indeed, in all the city, there was but one spot untouched by the warmth of

Christmas cheer.

The tower.

Grim monument to despair.

Cold, cruel, forbidding.

And unfortunately, the abode of Toad for a good many Christmases yet to come.

Poor Toad, alone with the memories of his wasted life. What a fool he'd been.

With many a pang he recalled the kindly face of Angus MacBadger and his sage

advice so often scorned.

A tear for Mowly, too, for his loyalty, his sympathy, his understanding.

And Toad wept for Rat and all those little lectures so often laughed at.

Yes, within the dark confines of this miserable cell, a new toad was born, a

reformed toad, a repentant toad.

In a flood of remorse, he vowed once and for all to forsake the follies of the

Primrose Path.

Never, never again would he give way to those mad, foolish manias that had

brought him to this sorry end.

As soon as it's Christmas, you're allowed a visitor.

Your grandma's here.

Grandma?

Merry Christmas, sonny.

Granny wouldn't forget her little Tony boy.

Cyril.

Cyril.

Look, Christmas gift.

What is it?

Don't you get it?

A disguise.

Now, all you've got to do is just put on this nutty little costume and... Alas,

for good intentions, Toad was incurable.

One whispered word and all his high resolve vanished in the mad whirl of

this new adventure, this new mania. Escape!

Toad, escape!

Walt! Oh, good evening, ma'am. Good evening to you, officer.

Lady, but you... Hey!

I see you fellows over there. You see him?

Yet. What perfectly ripping luck.

Trap tone, were they?

Ha-ha!

Lockheads, let them scour the countryside.

Once more, Jay Thaddeus II had the last laugh.

That same Christmas Eve along the river bank, the name of Toad was banned from

conversation, lest the memory of his disgrace becloud the merriment of the

season. And yet there was one home at least in which two loyal hearts still

held the warmth of Christian charity.

Bless this good food we are about to enjoy.

Bless us, everyone.

And... Bless poor Toad.

And may he get time off for good behavior.

Why, it's a poor old lady.

Let's take her over by the fire.

Ow!

Toad! What are you doing here?

Well, I was just sort of... Well, this is a merry Christmas, but aren't

you afraid of the police?

Afraid of the police?

I, Toad, afraid of the police?

Open up! Open up, I say!

The police!

Hide me!

Hide me, Ratty! Sorry, Toad, but you owe a debt to society and... Well, you've

got to pay.

Well, let them in.

But Ratty, don't you think maybe... Open the door!

McBadger! Hi, lads.

I've just made a very important discovery.

Toad Hall is ablaze with lights.

and in possession of a buck of weasels.

And the leader of the gang is none other than Mr... Wendy!

Hip, hip!

Hooray!

And so you see, he did trade Toad Hall for the mower car.

Then Toad was innocent all the time.

Aye, lads.

And if he were only here right now... Tord!

Angus!

Sorry, Tord. I misjudged you.

I hope someday you'll find it in your heart.

Not another word.

To err is human.

To forgive... Claudius!

Not so fast!

You're still guilty in the eyes of the law.

To prove your innocence, we've got to get that paper away from Winky.

Now, I have a plan.

We'll sneak in through the secret tunnel.

It was an excellent plan.

Cunningly contrived, but extremely dangerous.

It would work only if each did his part. There was no margin for error. The odds

against them were tremendous, but the stakes were high.

How steady is the word.

One false move and four lives hang in the balance.

Careful, lads. There is a guard.

I'll pop him off! Stop! Stop! Don't shoot!

There he goes, there!

That was a close one.

Trust Toad to start things off on the wrong foot.

Well, no turning back now.

Nothing for it but to push on.

What new and greater perils lay ahead, no one could say.

For with Toad already getting out of hand, anything could happen.

They're all asleep.

Nay, lads, they're drunk.

They've been hitting the bottle.

But where's Winky?

There he is.

He's got the paper on him.

We'll have to climb up on the balcony.

Get him, you blokes! Get him!

I think you're part of it.

Okay.

Well, laddies, we saved our skins, but we did not get the deed.

Well done, Thaddeus.

Hip, hip, hooray!

And so it was a happy ending after all.

Of course, Toad's friends were dreadfully proud of him, and why not?

He was a new Toad now, completely reformed, through with gypsy carts and

motor cars forever.

And so...

On this happiest of new years, a toast was in order.

To the new year and to the new Toad.

Hello, you fellows.

Come, I'll show you the world.

Travel, change, excitement.

And that was the fabulous Thaddeus Toad.

But let's weigh our judgment carefully. We moles and rats and badgers, really

now, don't we envy him a bit?

I know I do.

And so when we speak of fabulous characters, the most fabulous of all

will always be, to me at least, the master of Toad Hall.

Oh, yes.

Yeah, J. Thad was quite a lad. Speaking of fabulous characters...

England has produced a bumper crop of them.

But don't forget, over here in the colonies, we've managed to come up with

a few of our own.

How about Paul Bunyan, Pecos Bill, Johnny Appleseed, Black Bart, Davy

Crockett, Daniel Boone, and, of course, the one and only Ichabod Crane.

Old Icky, if you recall, was the country schoolmaster dreamed up by Washington

Irving.

Oh, he had a way with the yarn, did Mr. Irving.

If we could but journey back to that remote period in American history when

the city of Manhattan was but a market town, we would discover in the bosom of

one of those spacious coves which indent the shores of the Hudson, the little

village of Tarrytown.

And just beyond, nestled deep in the low rolling hills, a sequestered glen.

It's a quiet, peaceful place, and yet somehow foreboding.

for it abounds in haunted spots, twilight tales, and local superstitions.

The best-known story, however, concerns a certain itinerant schoolmaster who

once frequented these parts.

Indeed, some say his melancholy spirit still haunts the vicinity.

The worthy pedagogue was described as a most unusual man.

To see him striding along, one might well mistake him for some scarecrow

eloped from a cornfield.

He was tall, but exceedingly lame.

His head was small and flat on top with a long, snipe nose, so that it looked

like a weathercock perched upon his spindle neck.

Altogether, he was such an apparition as is seldom to be seen in broad daylight.

It was late one drowsy autumn afternoon when this strange figure first

approached the tranquil little village of Sleepy Hollow.

As usual, there had forgathered at ye olde schnooker and schnap-shappy a group

of rustic lads known as the Sleepy Hollow Boys.

Their self-appointed leader, one Brom

Bones, was a burly, roistering blade, always ready for a fight.

No problem.

And though Brom was much given to madcap pranks and practical jokes,

still there was no malice in his mischief.

Indeed, with his waggish humor and prodigious strength, Brom Bones was

quite the hero of all the country round.

Odds, bodkins, gadzooks.

Look at that old spook of spooks.

Who's that coming down the street?

Are they shovels or are they feet?

Mean and lanky, skin and bone With clothes a scarecrow would hate to own

Yet he has a certain air Yeah.

emotions, the townspeople all agreed they'd never seen anyone like Ichabod,

Ichabod Crane.

The schoolroom became Ichabod's empire, over which with lordly dignity he held

absolute sway.

Truth to say, Ichabod was a conscientious man.

Never bore in mind the golden maxim, spare the rod and spoil the child.

Still, he was careful to administer justice with discrimination.

For it behooved him to keep on good terms with his pupils, especially if

their mothers happened to be good cooks.

Who's the town's ladies' man?

Gets around like nobody can.

Has to be none other than Ichabod, Ichabod Gray.

Thus,

as time went by, it may be seen that the pedagogue got on tolerably enough.

Moreover, Ichabod found divers ways to increase his slender income.

And at the same time, awaken the cultural interests of the sleepy little

village.

Bum-ba-ba-ba-ba-boo, boo-boo.

Bum-ba-bee-ba-ba-ba-boo.

Bum-ba-ba-ba-ba-boo.

Bum-bee-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum.

It was inevitable that such a man as Ichabod would become an object of

ridicule to Brom Bones and his gang.

And yet to Ichabod, these were small matters.

Indeed, the schoolmaster possessed a remarkable equanimity which remained

quite undisturbed until that fateful day when his path was crossed by a woman.

A certain woman.

Katrina Van Tassel, daughter and only child of old Baltus Van Tassel, the

richest farmer in the county.

She was a blooming lass, plump as a partridge, ripe, melting, and

rosy-cheeked.

I've met that little coquette Katrina.

You won't forget Katrina.

But nobody yet has ever upset Katrina.

That cute coquette Katrina.

You can do more.

Katrina will kiss and run till her romance is found with always

another one to start yet when you met that

little coquette Katrina

Now, there was no doubt the fair Katrina was the richest prize in the

countryside.

And the schoolmaster, being an ambitious man, at once began to fill his mind with

many sugared thoughts and hopeful suppositions.

Ah, Katrina, my love, who can resist your grace, your

charm, and who can resist your father's farm?

What a setup.

There's gold in them acres and that ain't hay.

Not to mention that lovely green stuff.

Oh,

Katrina, my sweet,

my treasure.

Treasure.

That barn's a gold mine.

How I'd love to hit that jackpot.

Dear Katrina, Papa's only child.

Papa?

Well, the old goat can't take it with him, and when he cuts out, that's where

I cut in.

Sweet Katrina, poor little rich girl.

But don't worry, Katie.

Ichabod will protect you.

Ah, yes, Katrina, you've won me.

I surrender.

Yet when you've met that little coquette Katrina, you've

lost your heart.

Truth to say, every portal to Katrina's heart was jealously guarded by a host of

rustic admirers.

But Ichabod was confident he'd soon ride roughshod over these simple country

bumpkins.

The most formidable obstacle of all, however, the schoolmaster had failed to

reckon with.

That was the redoubtable Brom Bones himself.

Now, the ease with which Brom cleared the field of rivals both piqued and

provoked the fair Katrina.

And she often wished that some champion would appear and for once take the field

openly against the boisterous Brom.

Though a wiser man would have shrunk from the competition, love, they say, is

blind.

Ichabod was aware only that dame fortune was at last thundering at his door.

It's true that Brom liked to joke as well as the next, but enough was too

much.

It's time to carry the issue to open warfare.

Why, he'd double that schoolmaster up and lay him on a shelf in his own

schoolhouse.

But this, it seemed, was easier said than done.

No doubt of it, this was Ichabod's lucky day.

Now, it was evident the schoolmaster was indeed a man of hidden talents, a rival

to be reckoned with.

Still, wars are neither won nor lost with the first encounter.

The high-flying pedagogue might yet be brought to earth, for Brom Bones was

never a man to cry quits.

It was upon the occasion of her father's annual Halloween frolic that Katrina

again chose to stir the embers of the smoldering rivalry.

Thus, one invitation in particular carried a most personal and provocative

summons.

The worthy schoolmaster was

in a transport of joy.

To him, this could mean but one thing.

Icky, you sly old dog, you.

What is this strange power you have over women?

Well, tonight's the night, boy.

Just turn on the old charm and the fair Katrina is yours for the asking.

So gaily be decked.

Nobly mounted upon a horse he had borrowed for the occasion, Ichabod

issued forth like a knight-errant of old to keep a tryst with his lady fair.

In all the countryside, there was nothing to equal a merrymaking at

mynheer Van Tassel's farm.

To Ichabod, here was a perfect field for his endeavors.

Now, indeed, would he put his best foot forward.

For beyond all his other talents, the schoolmaster prided himself upon his

dancing.

The unhappy Brom, already bested at every turn, saw himself once more

outmatched.

For as he watched the posturing pedagogue, he was forced to admit that

here, here was a flawless picture of ease and grace.

There was no doubt that Ichabod was the man of the hour.

Brom knew that he must concede his rival still another victory.

And yet there was still a chance his time would come.

For when the hour grew late, Van Tassel always called upon his guests to tell

him ghostly tales of Halloween.

And Brom knew there was no more firm and potent believer in spooks and goblins

than Ichabod.

Just gather round, and I'll elucidate on what goes on outside when it gets late.

Long about midnight, the ghosts and banshees, they get together for their

nightly jamboree.

There's things with horns and saucer eyes.

Some with fangs about this size.

Some are fat, and some are thin.

And some don't even wear their skin.

Oh, I'm telling you, brother, it's a frightful sight.

See what goes on Halloween night.

When spooks have a midnight jamboree, they break it up with fiendish glee.

Ghosts are bad, but the one that's cursed is the headless horseman. He's

the worst. That's why he's a clown on Halloween night. When he goes a-jogging.

Demons take one, look and groan, and hit the road for parts unknown.

Beware, take care, he rides alone.

And there's no spook like spook that's burned.

They don't like him and he's really burned.

He swears to the longest day he's dead.

He'll show them that he can get ahead.

They say he's tired of his flaming top.

He's got a yen to make a swap.

in the hollow here now he likes them little he likes them big part in the

middle or a wig black or white or even red the headless horseman

needs a head with a hip hip and a clippity clap he's out looking for

is so i met that spook just a year ago now i didn't stop for a second look

but name for the bridge that spans the book but once you cross that bridge my

friends so when you're riding home tonight

So don't try to figure out a plan. You can't reason with a headless man.

It was the very witching hour of night that Ichabod pursued his travel

homeward.

The sky grew darker and darker as one by one the stars winked out their lights.

Driving clouds obscured the moon from sight.

Never had the schoolmaster felt so melancholy, so utterly alone.

And the nearer he approached the hollow, the more dismal he became.

Once inside the murky glen, Ichabod's anxiety increased a hundredfold.

For now, the forest seemed to close in behind him.

Every small detail of Brom's awful story returned to haunt his recollection.

Ah!

oh

Once you cross that bridge, my friends, the ghost is through. His power ends.

Next morning, Ichabod's hat was found.

And close beside it, a shattered pumpkin.

But there was no trace of the schoolmaster.

It was shortly thereafter that Brown Bones led the fair Katrina to the altar.

Now, rumors persisted that Ichabod was still alive, married to a wealthy widow

in a distant county.

But of course the good Dutch settlers refused to believe such nonsense For

they knew the schoolmaster had been spirited away by the headless horse

getting out of here.