diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:54:01 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:54:01 -0700 |
| commit | cea58c71a2f0d96a126e1dbb0dfa058dacf4babd (patch) | |
| tree | f9b7def971a13035e63210e452be8489aeea1cc7 | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18730-0.txt | 5789 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18730-0.zip | bin | 0 -> 139295 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18730-8.txt | 5789 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18730-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 139018 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18730-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 147062 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18730-h/18730-h.htm | 5925 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18730.txt | 5789 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18730.zip | bin | 0 -> 138946 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
11 files changed, 23308 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18730-0.txt b/18730-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2604a85 --- /dev/null +++ b/18730-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5789 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lore of Proserpine, by Maurice Hewlett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Lore of Proserpine + +Author: Maurice Hewlett + +Release Date: July 1, 2006 [EBook #18730] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LORE OF PROSERPINE *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + LORE OF PROSERPINE + + + + BY + + MAURICE HEWLETT + + + + "Thus go the fairy kind, + Whither Fate driveth; not as we + Who fight with it, and deem us free + Therefore, and after pine, or strain + Against our prison bars in vain; + For to them Fate is Lord of Life + And Death, and idle is a strife + With such a master ..." + + _Hypsipyle_. + + + + CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + + NEW YORK : : : : 1913 + + + COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY + + CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + + * * * * * + +TO + +DESPOINA + +FROM WHOM, TO WHOM + +ALL + + * * * * * + + + + +PREFACE + + +I hope nobody will ask me whether the things in this book are true, +for it will then be my humiliating duty to reply that I don't know. +They seem to be so to me writing them; they seemed to be so when they +occurred, and one of them occurred only two or three years ago. That +sort of answer satisfies me, and is the only one I can make. As I grow +older it becomes more and more difficult to distinguish one kind of +appearance from another, and to say, that is real, and again, that is +illusion. Honestly, I meet in my daily walks innumerable beings, to +all sensible signs male and female. Some of them I can touch, some +smell, some speak with, some see, some discern otherwise than by +sight. But if you cannot trust your eyes, why should you trust your +nose or your fingers? There's my difficulty in talking about reality. + +There's another way of getting at the truth after all. If a thing is +not sensibly true it may be morally so. If it is not phenomenally true +it may be so substantially. And it is possible that one may see +substance in the idiom, so to speak, of the senses. That, I take it, +is how the Greeks saw thunder-storms and other huge convulsions; that +is how they saw meadow, grove and stream--in terms of their own fair +humanity. They saw such natural phenomena as shadows of spiritual +conflict or of spiritual calm, and within the appearance apprehended +the truth. So it may be that I have done. Some such may be the +explanation of all fairy experience. Let it be so. It is a fact, I +believe, that there is nothing revealed in this book which will not +bear a spiritual, and a moral, interpretation; and I venture to say of +some of it that the moral implications involved are exceedingly +momentous, and timely too. I need not refer to such matters any +further. If they don't speak for themselves they will get no help from +a preface. + +The book assumes up to a certain point an autobiographical cast. This +is not because I deem my actual life of any interest to any one but +myself, but because things do occur to one "in time," and the +chronological sequence is as good as another, and much the most easy +of any. I had intended, but my heart failed me, to pursue experience +to the end. There was to have been a section, to be called "Despoina," +dealing with my later life. But my heart failed me. The time is not +yet, though it is coming. I don't deny that there are some things here +which I learned from the being called Despoina and could have learned +from nobody else. There are some such things, but there is not very +much, and won't be any more just yet. Some of it there will never be +for the sorry reason that our race won't bear to be told fundamental +facts about itself, still less about other orders of creation which +are sufficiently like our own to bring self-consciousness into play. +To write of the sexes in English you must either be sentimental or a +satirist. You must set the emotions to work; otherwise you must be +quiet. Now the emotions have no business with knowledge; and there's a +reason why we have no fairy lore, because we can't keep our feelings +in hand. The Greeks had a mythology, the highest form of Art, and we +have none. Why is that? Because we can neither expound without wishing +to convert the soul, nor understand without self-experiment. We don't +want to know things, we want to feel them--and are ashamed of our +need. Mythology, therefore, we English must make for ourselves as we +can; and if we are wise we shall keep it to ourselves. It is a pity, +because since we alone of created things are not self-sufficient, +anything that seems to break down the walls of being behind which we +agonise would be a comfort to us; but there's a worse thing than being +in prison, and that is quarrelling with our own nature. + +I shall have explained myself very badly if my reader leaves me with +the impression that I have been writing down marvels. The fact that a +thing occurs in nature takes it out of the portentous. There's nothing +either good or bad but thinking makes it so. With that I end. + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PREFACE + +THE WINDOWS + +A BOY IN THE WOOD + +HARKNESS'S FANCY + +THE GODS IN THE SCHOOLHOUSE + +THE SOUL AT THE WINDOW + +QUIDNUNC + +THE SECRET COMMONWEALTH + +BECKWITH'S CASE + +THE FAIRY WIFE + +OREADS + +A SUMMARY CHAPTER + + * * * * * + + + + +LORE OF PROSERPINE + +THE WINDOWS + + +You will remember that Socrates considers every soul of us to be at +least three persons. He says, in a fine figure, that we are two horses +and a charioteer. "The right-hand horse is upright and cleanly made; +he has a lofty neck and an aquiline nose; his colour is white and his +eyes dark; he is a lover of honour and modesty and temperance, and the +follower of true glory; he needs no touch of the whip, but is guided +by word and admonition only. The other is a crooked lumbering animal, +put together anyhow; he has a short thick neck; he is flat-faced and +of a dark colour, with grey eyes of blood-red complexion; the mate of +insolence and pride, shag-eared and deaf, hardly yielding to whip and +spur." I need not go on to examine with the philosopher the acts of +this pair under the whip and spur of love, because I am not going to +talk about love. For my present purpose I shall suggest another +dichotomy. I will liken the soul itself of man to a house, divided +according to the modern fashion into three flats or apartments. Of +these the second floor is occupied by the landlord, who wishes to be +quiet, and is not, it seems, afraid of fire; the ground-floor by a +business man who would like to marry, but doubts if he can afford it, +goes to the city every day, looks in at his club of an afternoon, +dines out a good deal, and spends at least a month of the year at +Dieppe, Harrogate, or one of the German spas. He is a pleasant-faced +man, as I see him, neatly dressed, brushed, anointed, polished at the +extremities--for his boots vie with his hair in this particular. If he +has a fault it is that of jingling half-crowns in his trouser-pocket; +but he works hard for them, pays his rent with them, and gives one +occasionally to a nephew. That youth, at any rate, likes the cheerful +sound. He is rather fond, too, of monopolising the front of the fire +in company, and thinks more of what he is going to eat, some time +before he eats it, than a man should. But really I can't accuse him of +anything worse than such little weaknesses. The first floor is +occupied by a person of whom very little is known, who goes out +chiefly at night and is hardly ever seen during the day. Tradesmen, +and the crossing-sweeper at the corner, have caught a glimpse on rare +occasions of a white face at the window, the startled face of a queer +creature, who blinks and wrings at his nails with his teeth; who +peers at you, jerks and grins; who seems uncertain what to do; who +sometimes shoots out his hands as if he would drive them through the +glass: altogether a mischancy, unaccountable apparition, probably mad. +Nobody knows how long he has been here; for the landlord found him in +possession when he bought the lease, and the ground-floor, who was +here also, fancies that they came together, but can't be sure. There +he is, anyhow, and without an open scandal one doesn't like to give +him notice. A curious thing about the man is that neither landlord nor +ground-floor will admit acquaintance with him to each other, although, +if the truth were known, each of them knows something--for each of +them has been through his door; and I will answer for one of them, at +least, that he has accompanied the Undesirable upon more than one +midnight excursion, and has enjoyed himself enormously. If you could +get either of these two alone in a confidential mood you might learn +some curious particulars of their coy neighbour; and not the least +curious would be the effect of his changing the glass of the first +floor windows. It seems that he had that done directly he got into his +rooms, saying that it was impossible to see out of such windows, and +that a man must have light. Where he got his glass from, by whom it +was fitted, I can't tell you, but the effect of it is most +extraordinary. The only summary account I feel able to give of it at +the moment is that it transforms the world upon which it opens. You +look out upon a new earth, literally that. The trees are not trees at +all, but slim grey persons, young men, young women, who stand there +quivering with life, like a row of Caryatides--on duty, but tiptoe for +a flight, as Keats says. You see life, as it were, rippling up their +limbs; for though they appear to be clothed, their clothing is of so +thin a texture, and clings so closely that they might as well not be +clothed at all. They are eyed, they see intensely; they look at each +other so closely that you know what they would be doing. You can see +them love each other as you watch. As for the people in the street, +the real men and real women, as we say, I hardly know how to tell you +what they look like through the first floor's windows. They are +changed of everything but one thing. They occupy the places, fill the +standing-room of our neighbours and friends; there is a something +about them all by which you recognise them--a trick of the hand, a +motion of the body, a set of the head (God knows what it is, how +little and how much); but for all that--a new creature! A thing like +nothing that lives by bread! Now just look at that policeman at the +corner, for instance; not only is he stark naked--everybody is like +that--but he's perfectly different from the sturdy, good-humoured, +red-faced, puzzled man you and I know. He is thin, woefully thin, and +his ears are long and perpetually twitching. He pricks them up at the +least thing; or lays them suddenly back, and we see them trembling. +His eyes look all ways and sometimes nothing but the white is to be +seen. He has a tail, too, long and leathery, which is always curling +about to get hold of something. Now it will be the lamp-post, now the +square railings, now one of those breathing trees; but mostly it is +one of his own legs. Yet if you consider him carefully you will agree +with me that his tail is a more expressive remnant of the man you have +always seen there than any other part of him. You may say, and truly, +that it is the only recognisable thing left. What do you think of his +feet and hands? They startled me at first; they are so long and +narrow, so bony and pointed, covered with fine short hair which shines +like satin. That way he has of arching his feet and driving his toes +into the pavement delights me. And see, too, that his hands are +undistinguishable from feet: they are just as long and satiny. He is +fond of smoothing his face with them; he brings them both up to his +ears and works them forward like slow fans. Transformation indeed. I +defy you to recognise him for the same man--except for a faint +reminiscence about his tail. + +But all's of a piece. The crossing-sweeper now has shaggy legs which +end in hoofs. His way of looking at young people is very +unpleasant;--and one had always thought him such a kindly old man. The +butcher's boy--what a torso!--is walking with his arm round the waist +of the young lady in Number seven. These are lovers, you see; but it's +mostly on her side. He tilts up her chin and gives her a kiss before +he goes; and she stands looking after him with shining eyes, hoping +that he will turn round before he gets to the corner. But he doesn't. + +Wait, now, wait, wait--who is this lovely, straining, beating creature +darting here and there about the square, bruising herself, poor +beautiful thing, against the railings? A sylph, a caught fairy? +Surely, surely, I know somebody--is it?--It can't be. That careworn +lady? God in Heaven, is it she? Enough! Show me no more. I will show +you no more, my dear sir, if it agitates you; but I confess that I +have come to regard it as one of the most interesting spectacles in +London. The mere information--to say nothing of the amusement--which I +have derived from it would fill a volume; but if it did, I may add, I +myself should undoubtedly fill a cell in Holloway. I will therefore +spare you what I know about the Doctor's wife, and what happens to +Lieutenant-Colonel Storter when I see him through these windows--I +could never have believed it unless I had seen it. These things are +not done, I know; but observed in this medium they seem quite +ordinary. Lastly--for I can't go through the catalogue--I will speak +of the air as I see it from here. My dear sir, the air is alive, +thronged with life. Spirits, forms, lovely immaterial diaphanous +shapes, are weaving endless patterns over the face of the day. They +shine like salmon at a weir, or they darken the sky as redwings in the +autumn fields; they circle, shrieking as they flash, like swallows at +evening; they battle and wrangle together; or they join hands and +whirl about the square in an endless chain. Of their beauty, their +grace of form and movement, of the shifting filmy colour, hue blending +in hue, of their swiftness, their glancing eyes, their exuberant joy +or grief I cannot now speak. Beside them one man may well seem rat, +and another goat. Beside them, indeed, you look for nothing else. And +if I go on to hint that the owner of these windows is of them, though +imprisoned in my house; that he does at times join them in their +streaming flights beyond the housetops, and does at times carry with +him his half-bewildered, half-shocked and wholly delighted fellow +lodgers, I have come to the end of my tether and your credulity, and, +for the time at least, have flowered myself to death. The figure is as +good as Plato's though my Pegasus will never stable in his stall. + + * * * * * + +We may believe ourselves to be two persons, at least, in one, and I +fancy that one at least of them is a constant. So far as my own pair +is concerned, either one of them has never grown up at all, or he was +born whole and in a flash, as the fairies are. Such as he was, at any +rate, when I was ten years old, such he is now when I am heavily more +than ten; and the other of us, very conscious of the flight of time +and of other things with it, is free to confess that he has little +more hold of his fellow with all this authority behind him than he had +when we commenced partnership. He has some, and thinks himself lucky, +since the bond between the pair is of such a nature as to involve a +real partnership--a partnership full of perplexity to the working +member of it, the ordinary forensic creature of senses, passions, +ambitions, and self-indulgences, the eating, sleeping, vainglorious, +assertive male of common experience--and it is not to be denied that +it has been fruitful, nor again that by some freak of fate or fortune +the house has kept a decent front to the world at large. It is still +solvent, still favourably regarded by the police. It is not, it never +will be, a mere cage of demons; its walls have not been fretted to +transparency; no passing eye can detect revelry behind its decent +stucco; no passing ear thrill to cries out of the dark. No, no. +Troubles we may have; but we keep up appearances. The heart knoweth +its own bitterness, and if it be a wise one, keepeth it to itself. I +am not going to be so foolish as to deny divergences of opinion, even +of practice, between the pair in me; but I flatter myself that I have +not allowed them to become a common nuisance, a cause of scandal, a +stumbling-block, a rock of offence, or anything of that kind. Uneasy +tenant, wayward partner as my recondite may be, he has had a +relationship with my forensic which at times has touched cordiality. +Influential he has not been, for his colleague has always had the +upper hand and been in the public eye. He may have instigated to +mischief, but has not often been allowed to complete his purpose. If I +am a respectable person it is not his fault. He seeks no man's +respect. If he has occasionally lent himself to moral ends, it has +been without enthusiasm, for he has no morals of his own, and never +did have any. On the other hand, he is by nature too indifferent to +temporal circumstances to go about to corrupt his partner. His main +desire has ever been to be let alone. Anything which tended to tighten +the bonds which held him to his co-tenant would have been a thing to +avoid. He desires liberty, and nothing less will content him. This he +will only have by inaction, by mewing his sempiternal youth in his +cage and on his perch. + +But the tie uniting the pair of us is of such a nature that neither +can be uninfluenced by the other. It is just that you should hear both +sides of the case. My forensic, eating and arguing self has bullied my +other into hypocrisy over and over again. He has starved him, deprived +him of his holidays, ignored him, ridiculed him, snubbed him +mercilessly. This is severe treatment, you'll allow, and it's worse +even than it seems. For the unconscionable fellow, owing to this +coheirship which he pretends to disesteem, has been made privy to +experiences which must not only have been extraordinary to so plain +and humdrum a person, but which have been, as I happen to know, of +great importance to him, and which--to put the thing at its +highest--have lifted him, dull dog as he is, into regions where the +very dogs have wings. Out upon it! But he has been in and out with his +victim over leagues of space where not one man in ten thousand has +been privileged to fare. He has been familiar all his life with +scenes, with folk, with deeds undreamed of by thirty-nine and +three-quarters out of forty millions of people, and by that +quarter-million only known as nursery tales. Not only so, but he has +been awakened to the significance of common things, having at hand an +interpreter, and been enabled to be precise where Wordsworth was +vague. He has known Zeus in the thunder, in the lightning beheld the +shaking of the dread Ægis. In the river source he has seen the +breasted nymph; he has seen the Oreads stream over the bare hillside. +There are men who see these things and don't believe them, others who +believe but don't see. He has both seen and believed. The painted, +figured universe has for him a new shape; whispering winds and falling +rain speak plainly to his understanding. He has seen trees as men +walking. His helot has unlocked the world behind appearance and made +him free of the Spirits of Natural Fact who abide there. If he is not +the debtor of his comrade--and he protests the debt--he should be. But +the rascal laps it all up, as a cat porridge, without so much as a wag +of the tail for Thank-you. Such are the exorbitant overlords in mortal +men, who pass for reputable persons, with a chief seat at feasts. + +Such things, you may say, read incredibly, but, _mutatis mutandis_, I +believe them to be common, though unrecorded, experience. I deprecate +in advance questions designed to test the accuracy of my eyesight or +the ingenuous habit of my pen. I have already declared that the +windows of my first-floor lodger are of such properties that they +show you, in Xenophon's phrase, τὰ ὄντα τε ὡϛ ὄντα, και τὰ μὴ ὄντα ὡϛ +οὐκ ὄνγα. Now consider it from his side. If I were to tell the owner +of those windows that I saw the policeman at the corner, a helmeted, +blue-tunicked, chin-scratching, ponderous man, some six foot in his +boots, how would he take it? Would he not mock me? What, that rat? +Ridiculous! And what on earth could I reply? I tell you, the whole +affair is one of windows, or, sometimes, of personally-conducted +travel; and who is Guide and who Guided, is one of those nice +questions in psychology which perhaps we are not yet ready to handle. +Of the many speculations as to the nature of the subliminal Self I +have never found one to be that he may be a fairy prisoner, +occasionally on parole. But I think that not at all unlikely. May not +metempsychosis be a scourge of two worlds? If the soul of my grandam +might fitly inhabit a bird, might not a Fairy ruefully inhabit the +person of my grandam? If Fairy Godmothers, perchance, were Fairy +Grandmothers! I have some evidence to place before the reader which +may induce him to consider this hypothesis. Who can doubt, at least, +that Shelley's was not a case where the not-human was a prisoner in +the human? Who can doubt that of Blake's? And what was the result, +forensically? Shelley was treated as a scoundrel and Blake as a +madman. Shelley, it was said, broke the moral law, and Blake +transcended common sense; but the first, I reply, was in the guidance +of a being to whom the laws of this world and the accidents of it +meant nothing at all; and to the second a wisdom stood revealed which +to human eyes was foolishness. Windows! In either case there was a +martyrdom, and human exasperation appeased by much broken glass. Let +us not, however, condemn the wreckers of windows. Who is to judge even +them? Who is to say even of their harsh and cruel reprisals that they +were not excusable? May not they too have been ridden by some wild +spirit within them, which goaded them to their beastly work? But if +the acceptance of the doctrine of multiple personality is going to +involve me in the reconsideration of criminal jurisprudence, I must +close this essay. + +I will close it with the sentence of another philosopher who has +considered deeply of these questions. "It is to be observed," he says, +"that the laws of human conduct are precisely made for the conduct of +this world of Men, in which we live, breed, and pay rent. They do not +affect the Kingdom of the Dogs, nor that of the Fishes; by a parity of +reasoning they need not be supposed to obtain in the Kingdom of +Heaven, in which the schoolmen discovered the citizens dwelling in +nine spheres, apart from the blessed immigrants, whose privileges did +not extend so near to the Heart of the Presence. How many realms there +may be between mankind's and that ultimate object of pure desire +cannot at present be known, but it may be affirmed with confidence +that any denizen of any one of them, brought into relation with human +beings, would act, and reasonably act, in ways which to men might seem +harsh and unconscionable, without sanction or convenience. Such a +being might murder one of the ratepayers of London, compound a felony, +or enter into a conspiracy to depose the King himself, and, being +detected, very properly be put under restraint, or visited with +chastisement, either deterrent or vindictive, or both. But the true +inference from the premises would be that although duress or +banishment from the kingdom might be essential, yet punishment, +so-called, ought not to be visited upon the offender. For he or she +could not be _nostri juris_, and that which were abominable to us +might well be reasonable to him or her, and indeed a fulfilment of the +law of his being. Punishment, therefore, could not be exemplary, since +the person punished exemplified nothing to Mankind; and if vindictive, +then would be shocking, since that which is vindicated, in the mind +of the victim either did not exist, or ought not. The Ancient Greek +who withheld from the sacrifice to Showery Zeus because a thunder-bolt +destroyed his hayrick, or the Egyptian who manumitted his slaves +because a God took the life of his eldest son, was neither a pious, +nor a reasonable person." + +There is much debatable matter in this considered opinion. + + + + +A BOY IN THE WOOD + + +I had many bad qualities as a child, of which I need mention only +three. I was moody, irresolute, and hatefully reserved. Fate had +already placed me the eldest by three years of a large family. Add to +the eminence thus attained intentions which varied from hour to hour, +a will so little in accordance with desire that I had rather give up a +cherished plan than fight for it, and a secretive faculty equalled +only by the magpie, and you will not wonder when I affirm that I lived +alone in a household of a dozen friendly persons. As a set-off and +consolation to myself I had very strongly the power of impersonation. +I could be within my own little entity a dozen different people in a +day, and live a life thronged with these companions or rivals; and yet +this set me more solitary than ever, for I could never appear in any +one of my characters to anybody else. But alone and apart, what worlds +I inhabited! Worlds of fact and worlds of fiction. At nine years old I +knew Nelson's ardour and Wellesley's phlegm; I had Napoleon's egotism, +Galahad's purity, Lancelot's passion, Tristram's melancholy. I +reasoned like Socrates and made Phædo weep; I persuaded like Saint +Paul and saw the throng on Mars' Hill sway to my words. I was by turns +Don Juan and Don Quixote, Tom Jones and Mr. Allworthy, Hamlet and his +uncle, young Shandy and his. You will gather that I was a reader. I +was, and the people of my books stepped out of their pages and +inhabited me. Or, to change the figure, I found in every book an open +door, and went in and dwelt in its world. Thus I lived a thronged and +busy life, a secret life, full of terror, triumph, wonder, frantic +enterprise, a noble and gallant figure among my peers, while to my +parents, brothers and sisters I was an incalculable, fitful creature, +often lethargic and often in the sulks. They saw me mooning in +idleness and were revolted; or I walked dully the way I was bid and +they despaired of my parts. I could not explain myself to them, still +less justify, having that miserable veil of reserve close over my +mouth, like a yashmak. To my father I could not speak, to my mother I +did not; the others, being my juniors all, hardly existed. Who is to +declare the motives of a child's mind? What was the nature of this +reticence? Was it that my real habit was reverie? Was it, as I +suspect, that constitutional timidity made me diffident? I was a +coward, I am very sure, for I was always highly imaginative. Was it, +finally, that I was dimly conscious of matters which I despaired of +putting clearly? Who can say? And who can tell me now whether I was +cursed or blessed? Certainly, if it had been possible to any person my +senior to share with me my daily adventures, I might have conquered +the cowardice from which I suffered such terrible reverses. But it was +not. I was the eldest of a large family, and apparently the easiest to +deal with of any of it. I was what they call a tractable child, being, +in fact, too little interested in the world as it was to resent any +duties cast upon me. It was not so with the others. They were +high-spirited little creatures, as often in mischief as not, and +demanded much more pains then I ever did. What they demanded they got, +what I did not demand I got not: "Lo, here is alle! What shold I more +seye?" + +How it was that, taking no interest in my actual surroundings, I +became aware of unusual things behind them I cannot understand. It is +very difficult to differentiate between what I imagined and what I +actually perceived. It was a favourite string of my poor father's +plaintive lyre that I had no eyes. He was a great walker, a poet, and +a student of nature. Every Sunday of his life he took me and my +brother for a long tramp over the country, the intense spiritual +fatigue of which exercise I should never be able to describe. I have a +sinking of the heart, even now, when I recall our setting out. +Intolerable labour! I saw nothing and said nothing. I did nothing but +plug one dull foot after the other. I felt like some chained slave +going to the hulks, and can well imagine that my companions must have +been very much aware of it. My brother, whose nature was much happier +than mine, who dreamed much less and observed much more, was the life +of these woeful excursions. Without him I don't think that my father +could have endured them. At any rate, he never did. I amazed, +irritated, and confounded him at most times, but in nothing more than +my apathy to what enchanted him.[1] The birds, the flowers, the trees, +the waters did not exist for me in my youth. The world for me was +uninhabited, a great empty cage. People passed us, or stood at their +doorways watching us, but I never saw them. If by chance I descried +somebody coming whom it would be necessary to salute, or to whom I +might have to speak, I turned aside to avoid them. I was not only shy +to a fault, as a diffident child must be, but the world of sense +either did not exist for me or was thrust upon me to my discomfort. +And yet all the while, as I moved or sat, I was surrounded by a stream +of being, of infinite constituents, aware of them to this extent that +I could converse with them without sight or speech. I knew they were +there, I knew them singing, whispering, screaming. They filled my +understanding not my senses. I did not see them but I felt them. I +knew not what they said or sang, but had always the general sense of +their thronging neighbourhood. + +[Footnote 1: And me also when I was enabled at a later day to perceive +them. I am thankful to remember and record for my own comfort that +that day came not too late for my enchantment to overtake his and +proceed in company.] + +I enlarge upon this because I think it justifies me in adding that, +observing so little, what I did observe with my bodily eyes must +almost certainly have been observable. But now let the reader judge. + +The first time I ever saw a creature which was really outside ordinary +experience was in the late autumn of my twelfth year. My brother, next +in age to me, was nine, my eldest sister eight. We three had been out +walking with our mother, and were now returning at dusk to our tea +through a wood which covered the top of a chalk down. I remember +vividly the scene. The carpet of drenched leaves under bare branches, +the thin spear-like shafts of the underwood, the grey lights between, +the pale frosty sky overhead with the sickle moon low down in it. I +remember, too, various sensations, such as the sudden chill which +affected me as the crimson globe of the sun disappeared; and again +how, when we emerged from the wood, I was enheartened by the sight of +the village shrouded under chimney smoke and by the one or two +twinkling lights dotted here and there about the dim wolds. + +In the wood it was already twilight and very damp. Perhaps I had been +tired, more likely bored--as I always was when I was not being +somebody else. I remember that I had found the path interminable. I +had been silent, as I mostly was, while the other two had chattered +and played about our mother; and when presently I stayed behind for a +purpose I remember that I made no effort to catch them up. I knew the +way perfectly, of course, and had no fear of the dark. Oddly enough I +had no fear of that. I was far less imaginative in the night than in +the day. Besides that, by the time I was ready to go after them I had +much else to think of. + +I must have been looking at him for some time before I made out that +he was there. So you may peer into a thicket a hundred times and see +nothing, and then a trick of the light or a flutter of the mood and +you see creatures where you had been sure was nothing. As children +will, I had stayed longer than I need, looking and wondering into the +wood, not observing but yet absorbing the effects of the lights and +shades. The trees were sapling chestnuts if I am not mistaken, Spanish +chestnuts, and used for hop-poles in those parts. Their leaves decay +gradually, the fleshy part, so to speak, dropping away from the +articulation till at last bleached skeleton leaves remain and flicker +at every sigh of the wind. The ground was densely carpeted with other +leaves in the same state, or about to become so. The silver grey was +cross-hatched by the purple lines of the serried stems, and as the +view receded this dipped into blue and there lost itself. It was very +quiet--a windless fall of the light. To-day I should find it most +beautiful; and even then, I suspect, I felt its beauty without knowing +it to be so. Looking into it all without realising it, I presently and +gradually did realise something else: a shape, a creature, a thing of +form and pressure--not a wraith, not, I am quite certain, a trick of +the senses. + +It was under a clump of the chestnut stems, kneeling and sitting on +its heels, and it was watching me with the bright, quick eyes of a +mouse. If I were to say that my first thought was of some peering and +waiting animal, I should go on to qualify the thought by reference to +the creature's eyes. They were eyes which, like all animals', could +only express one thing at a time. They expressed now attention, the +closest: not fear, not surprise, not apprehension of anything that I +might be meditating against their peace, but simply minute attention. +The absence of fear, no doubt, marked their owner off from the animals +of common acquaintance; but the fact that they did not at the same +time express the being itself showed him to be different from our +human breed. For whatever else the human pair of eyes may reveal, it +reveals the looker. + +The eyes of this creature revealed nothing of itself except that it +was watching me narrowly. I could not even be sure of its sex, though +I believe it to have been a male, and shall hereafter treat of it as +such. I could see that he was young; I thought about my own age. He +was very pale, without being at all sickly--indeed, health and vigour +and extreme vivacity were implicit in every line and expressed in +every act; he was clear-skinned, but almost colourless. The shadow +under his chin, I remember, was bluish. His eyes were round, when not +narrowed by that closeness of his scrutiny of me, and though probably +brown, showed to be all black, with pupil indistinguishable from iris. +The effect upon me was of black, vivid black, unintelligent +eyes--which see intensely but cannot translate. His hair was dense and +rather long. It covered his ears and touched his shoulders. It was +pushed from his forehead sideways in a thick, in a solid fold, as if +it had been the corner of a frieze cape thrown back. It was dark hair, +but not black; his neck was very thin. I don't know how he was +dressed--I never noticed such things; but in colour he must have been +inconspicuous, since I had been looking at him for a good time without +seeing him at all. A sleeveless tunic, I think, which may have been +brown, or grey, or silver-white. I don't know. But his knees were +bare--that I remember; and his arms were bare from the shoulder. + +I standing, he squatting on his heels, the pair of us looked full at +one another. I was not frightened, no more was he. I was excited, and +full of interest; so, I think, was he. My heart beat double time. Then +I saw, with a curious excitement, that between his knees he held a +rabbit, and that with his left hand he had it by the throat. Now, what +is extraordinary to me about this discovery is that there was nothing +shocking in it. + +I saw the rabbit's wild and panic-blown eye, I saw the bright white +rim of it, and recognised its little added terror of me even in the +midst of its anguish. That must have been the conventional fright of a +beast of chase, an instinct to fear rather than an emotion; for of +emotions the poor thing must have been having its fill. It was not +till I saw its mouth horribly open, its lips curled back to show its +shelving teeth that I could have guessed at what it was suffering. But +gradually I apprehended what was being done. Its captor was squeezing +its throat. I saw what I had never seen before, and have never seen +since, I saw its tongue like a pale pink petal of a flower dart out as +the pressure drove it. Revolting sight as that would have been to me, +witnessed in the world, here, in this dark wood, in this outland +presence, it was nothing but curious. Now, as I watched and wondered, +the being, following my eyes' direction, looked down at the huddled +thing between his thighs, and just as children squeeze a snap-dragon +flower to make it open and shut its mouth, so precisely did he, +pressing or releasing the windpipe, cause that poor beast to throw +back its lips and dart its dry tongue. He did this many times while he +watched it; and when he looked up at me again, and while he continued +to look at me, I saw that his cruel fingers, as by habit, continued +the torture, and that in some way he derived pleasure from the +performance--as if it gratified him to be sure that effect was +following on cause inevitably. + +I have never, I believe, been cruel to an animal in my life. I hated +cruelty then as I hate it now. I have always shirked the sight of +anything in pain from my childhood onwards. Yet the fact is that not +only did I nothing to interfere in what I saw going on, but that I +was deeply interested and absorbed in it. I can only explain that to +myself now, by supposing that I knew then, that the creature in front +of me was not of my own kind, and was not, in fact, outraging any law +of its own being. Is not that possible? May I not have collected +unawares so much out of created nature? I am unable to say: all I am +clear about is that here was a thing in the semblance of a boy doing +what I had never observed a boy do, and what if I ever had observed a +boy do, would have flung me into a transport of rage and grief. Here, +therefore, was a thing in the semblance of a boy who was no boy at +all. So much must have been as certain to me then as it is +indisputable now. + +One doesn't, at that age, reason things out; one knows them, and is +dumb, though unconvinced, before powerful syllogisms to the contrary. +All children are so, confronted by strange phenomena. And yet I had +facts to go upon if, child as I was, I had been capable of inference. +I need only mention one. If this creature had been human, upon seeing +that I was conscious of its behaviour to the rabbit, it would either +have stopped the moment it perceived that I did not approve or was not +amused, or it would have continued deliberately out of bravado. But it +neither stopped nor hardily continued. It watched its experiment with +interest for a little, then, finding me more interesting, did not +discontinue it, but ceased to watch it. He went on with it +mechanically, dreamingly, as if to the excitation of some other sense +than sight, that of feeling, for instance. He went on lasciviously, +for the sake of the pleasure so to be had. In other words, being +without self-consciousness and ignorant of shame, he must have been +non-human. + +After all, too, it must be owned that I cannot have been confronted by +the appearance for more than a few minutes. Allow me three to have been +spent before I was aware of him, three more will be the outside I can +have passed gazing at him. But I speak of "minutes," of course, +referring to my ostensible self, that inert, apathetic child who +followed its mother, that purblind creature through whose muddy lenses +the pent immortal had been forced to see his familiar in the wood, and +perchance to dress in form and body what, for him, needed neither to be +visible. It was this outward self which was now driven by circumstances +to resume command--the command which for "three minutes" by his +reckoning he had relinquished. Both of us, no doubt, had been much +longer there had we not been interrupted. A woodman, homing from his +work, came heavily up the path, and like a guilty detected rogue I +turned to run and took my incorruptible with me. Not until I had passed +the man did I think to look back. The partner of my secret was not then +to be seen. Out of sight out of mind is the way of children. Out of +mind, then, withdrew my incorruptible. I hurried on, ran, and overtook +my party half-way down the bare hillside. I still remember the feeling +of relief with which I swept into the light, felt the cold air on my +cheeks, and saw the intimacy of the village open out below me. I am +almost sure that my eyes held tears at the assurance of the sweet, +familiar things which I knew and could love. There, literally, were my +own people: that which I had left behind must be unlawful because it was +so strange. In the warmth and plenty of the lighted house, by the +schoolroom table, before the cosily covered teapot, amid the high talk, +the hot toast and the jam, my experience in the dusky wood seemed +unreal, lawless, almost too terrible to be remembered--never, never to +be named. It haunted me for many days, and gave rise to curious +wonderings now and then. As I passed the patient, humble beasts of +common experience--a carter's team nodding, jingling its brasses, a +donkey, patient, humble, hobbled in a paddock, dogs sniffing each other, +a cat tucked into a cottage window, I mused doubtfully and often whether +we had touched the threshold of the heart of their mystery. But for the +most part, being constitutionally timid, I was resolute to put the +experience out of mind. When next I chanced to go through the wood there +is no doubt I peered askance to right and left among the trees; but I +took good care not to desert my companions. That which I had seen was +unaccountable, therefore out of bounds. But though I never saw him there +again I have never forgotten him. + + + + +HARKNESS'S FANCY + + +I may have been a precocious child, but I cannot tell within a year or +two how soon it was that I attained manhood. There must have been a +moment of time when I clothed myself in skins, like Adam; when I knew +what this world calls good and evil--by which this world means nothing +more nor less than men and women, and chiefly women, I think. Savage +peoples initiate their young and teach them the taboos of society by +stripes. We allow our issue to gash themselves. By stripes, then, upon +my young flesh, I scored up this lesson for myself. Certain things were +never to be spoken of, certain things never to be looked at in certain +ways, certain things never to be done consciously, or for the pleasure +to be got out of them. One stepped out of childish conventions into +mannish conventions, and did so, certainly, without any instruction from +outside. I remember, for instance, that, as children, it was a rigid +part of our belief that our father was the handsomest man in the +world--handsome was the word. In the same way our mother was by +prerogative the most beautiful woman. If some hero flashed upon our +scene--Garibaldi, Lancelot of the Lake, or another--the greatest praise +we could possibly have given him for beauty, excellence, courage, or +manly worth would have put him second to our father. So also Helen of +Sparta and Beatrice of Florence gave way. That was the law of the +nursery, rigid and never to be questioned until unconsciously I grew out +of it, and becoming a man, put upon me the panoply of manly eyes. I now +accepted it that to kiss my sister was nothing, but that to kiss her +friend would be very wicked. I discovered that there were two ways of +looking at a young woman, and two ways of thinking about her. I +discovered that it was lawful to have some kinds of appetite, and to +take pleasure in food, exercise, sleep, warmth, cold water, hot water, +the smell of flowers, and quite unlawful so much as to think of, or to +admit to myself the existence of other kinds of appetite. I discovered, +in fact, that love was a shameful thing, that if one was in love one +concealed it from the world, and, above all the world, from the object +of one's love. The conviction was probably instinctive, for one is not +the descendant of puritans for nothing; but the discovery of it is +another matter. Attendance at school and the continuous reading of +romance were partly responsible for that; physical development clinched +the affair, I was in all respects mature at thirteen, though my courage +(to use the word in Chaucer's sense) was not equal to my ability. I had +more than usual diffidence against me, more than usual reserve; and +self-consciousness, from which I have only lately escaped, grew upon me +hand in hand with experience. + +But being now become a day-scholar at the Grammar School, and thrown +whether I would or not among other boys of my own age, I sank my +recondite self deeply under the folds of my quickened senses. I became +aware of a world which was not his world at all. I watched, I heard, I +judged, I studied intently my comrades; and while in secret I shared +their own hardy lives, I was more than content to appear a cipher +among them. I had no friends and made none. All my comradeship with my +school-mates took place in my head, for however salient in mood or +inclination I may have been I was a laggard in action. In company I +was lower than the least of them; in my solitude, at their head I +captured the universe. Daily, to and fro, for two or three years I +journeyed between my home and this school, with a couple of two-mile +walks and a couple of train journeys to be got through in all weathers +and all conditions of light. I saw little or nothing of my +school-fellows out of hours, and lived all my play-time, if you can so +call it, intensely alone with the people of my imagination--to whose +number I could now add gleanings from the Grammar School. + +I don't claim objective reality for any of these; I am sure that they +were of my own making. Though unseen beings throng round us all, +though as a child I had been conscious of them, though I had actually +seen one, in these first school years of mine the machinery I had for +seeing the usually unseen was eclipsed; my recondite self was fast in +his _cachot_--and I didn't know that he was there! But one may imagine +fairies enough out of one's reading, and going beyond that, using it +as a spring-board, advance in the work of creation from realising to +begetting. So it was with me. The _Faerie Queen_ was as familiar as +the Latin Primer ought to have been. I had much of Mallory by heart--a +book full of magic. Forth of his pages stepped men-at-arms and damsels +the moment I was alone, and held me company for as long as I would. +The persons of Homer's music came next to them. I was Hector and held +Andromache to my heart. I kissed her farewell when I went forth to +school, and hurried home at night from the station, impatient for her +arms. I was never Paris, and had only awe of Helen. Even then I dimly +guessed her divinity, that godhead which the supremest beauty really +is. But I was often Odysseus the much-enduring, and very well +acquainted with the wiles of Calypso. Next in power of enchantment +came certainly Don Quixote, in whose lank bones I was often encased. +Dulcinea's charm was very real to me. I revelled in her honeyed name. +I was Don Juan too, and I was Tom Jones; but my most natural +impersonation in those years was Tristram. The luxury of that +champion's sorrows had a swooning sweetness of their own of which I +never tired. Iseult meant nothing. I cared nothing for her. I was +enamoured of the hero, and saw myself drenched in his passion. Like +Narcissus in the fable, I loved myself, and saw myself, in Tristram's +form, the most beautiful and the most beloved of beings. + +Chivalry and Romance chained me at that time and not the supernatural. +The fairy adventures of the heroes of my love swept by me untouched. +Morgan le Fay, Britomart, Vivien, Nimue, Merlin did not convince me; +they were picturesque conventions whose decorative quality I felt, +while so far as I was concerned they were garniture or apparatus. And +yet the fruitful meadows through which I took my daily way were as +forests to me; the grass-stems spired up to my fired fancy like great +trees. Among them I used to minish myself to the size of an ant and +become a pioneer hewing out a pathway through virgin thickets. I had +my ears alert for the sound of a horn, of a galloping horse, of the +Questing Beast and hounds in full cry. But I never looked to encounter +a fairy in these most fairy solitudes. Beleaguered ladies, +knights-errant, dwarfs, churls, fiends of hell, leaping like flames +out of pits in the ground: all these, but no fairies. It's very odd +that having seen the reality and devoured the fictitious, I should +have had zest for neither, but so it is. + +As for my school-mates, though I had very little to say to them, or +they to me, I used to watch them very closely, and, as I have said, +came to weave them into my dreams. Some figured as heroes, some as +magnanimous allies, some as malignant enemies, some who struck me as +beautiful received of me the kind of idolatry, the insensate +self-surrender which creatures of my sort have always offered up to +beauty of any sort. I remember T----e, a very shapely and +distinguished youth. I worshipped him as a god, and have seen him +since--alas! I remember B---- also, a tall, lean, loose-limbed young +man. He was a great cricketer, a good-natured, sleepy giant, perfectly +stupid (I am sure) but with marks of breed about him which I could not +possibly mistake. Him, too, I enthroned upon my temple-frieze; he +would have figured there as Meleager had I been a few years older. As +it was, he rode a blazoned charger, all black, and feutred his lance +with the Knights of King Arthur's court. Then there was H----n, a +good-looking, good-natured boy, and T----r, another. Many and many a +day did they ride forth with me adventuring--that is, spiritually they +did so; physically speaking, I had no scot or lot with them. We were +in plate armour, visored and beplumed. We slung our storied shields +behind us; we had our spears at rest; we laughed, told tales, sang as +we went through the glades of the forest, down the rutted +charcoal-burner's track, and came to the black mere, where there lay a +barge with oars among the reeds. I can see, now, H----n throw up his +head, bared to the sky and slanting sun. He had thick and dark curly +hair and a very white neck. His name of chivalry was Sagramor. T----r +was of stouter build and less salient humour. He was Bors, a brother +of Lancelot's. I, who was moody, here as in waking life, was Tristram, +more often Tramtris. + +Of other more sinister figures I remember two. R----s, who bullied me +until I was provoked at last into facing him; a greedy, pale, +lecherous boy, graceless, a liar, but extremely clever. I had a horror +of him which endures now. If he, as I have, had a dweller in the deeps +of him, his must have been a satyr. I cannot doubt it now. Disastrous +ally for mortal man! Vice sat upon his face like a grease; vice made +his fingers quick. He had a lickorous tongue and a taste for sweet +things which even then made me sick. So repulsive was he to me, so +impressed upon my fancy, that it was curious he did not haunt my inner +life. But I never met him there. No shape of his ever encountered me +in the wilds and solitary places. In the manifest world he afflicted +me to an extent which the rogue-fairy in the wood could never have +approached. Perhaps it was that all my being was forearmed against +him, and that I fought him off. At any rate he never trespassed in my +preserves. + +The other was R----d, a bleared and diseased creature, a thing of pity +and terror to the wholesome, one of those outcasts of the world which +every school has to know and reckon with. A furtive, nail-bitten, +pick-nose wretch with an unholy hunger for ink, earth-worms and the +like. What terrible tenant do the likes of these carry about with +them! He, too, haunted me, but not fearfully; but he, too, I now +understand too well, was haunted and ridden to doom. I pitied him, +tried to be kind to him, tried to treat him as the human thing which +in some sort he was. I discovered that when he was interested he +forgot his loathsome cravings, and became almost lovable. I went home +with him once, to a mean house in ----. He took me into the backyard +and showed me his treasury--half a dozen rabbits, as many guinea-pigs, +and a raven with a bald head. He was all kindness to these prisoners, +fondled them with hands and voice, spoke a kind of inarticulate baby +language to them, and gave them pet names. He forgot his misery, his +poverty--I remember that he never had a handkerchief and always wanted +one, that his jacket-sleeves were near his elbow, and that his wrist +bones were red and broken. But now there shone a clear light in his +eye; he could face the world as he spoke to me of the habits of his +friends. We got upon some sort of terms by these means, and I always +had a kind of affection for poor R----d. In a sense we were both +outcasts, and might have warmed the world for each other. If I had not +been so entirely absorbed in my private life as to grudge any moment +of it unnecessarily spent I should have asked him home. But boys are +exorbitant in their own affairs, and I had no time to spare him. + +I was a year at ---- before I got so far with any schoolfellow of mine +there; but just about the time of my visit to R----d I fell in with +another boy, called Harkness, who, for some reason of his own, desired +my closer acquaintance and got as much of it as I was able to give to +anybody, and a good deal more than he deserved or I was the better of. +He, too, was a day-boy, whose people lived in a suburb of the town +which lay upon my road. We scraped acquaintance by occasionally +travelling together so much of the way as he had to traverse; from +this point onward all the advances were his. I had no liking for him, +and, in fact, some of his customs shocked me. But he was older than I, +very friendly, and very interesting. He evidently liked me; he asked +me to tea with him; he used to wait for me, going and returning. I had +no means of refusing his acquaintance, and did not; but I got no good +out of him. + +As he was older, so he was much more competent. Not so much vicious as +curious and enterprising, he knew a great many things which I only +guessed at, and could do much--or said that he could--which I only +dreamed about. He put a good deal of heart into my instruction, and +left me finally with my lesson learned. I never saw nor heard of him +after I left the school. We did not correspond, and he left no mark +upon me of any kind. The lesson learned, I used the knowledge +certainly; but it did not take me into the region which he knew best. +His grove of philosophy was close to the school, in K---- Park, which +is a fine enclosure of forest trees, glades, brake-fern and deer. +Here, in complete solitude, for we never saw a soul, my sentimental +education was begun by this self-appointed professor. As I remember, +he was a good-looking lad enough, with a round and merry face, high +colour, bright eyes, a moist and laughing mouth. Had he known the way +in he would have been at home in the Garden of Priapus, where perhaps +he is now. He was hardy in address, a ready speaker, rather eloquent +upon the theme that he loved, and I dare say he may have been as +fortunate as he said, or very nearly. Certainly what he had to tell me +of love and women opened my understanding. I believe that I envied him +his ease of attainment more than what he said he had attained. I might +have been stimulated by his adventures to be adventurous on my own +account, but I never was, neither at that time nor at any other. I am +quite certain that never in my life have I gone forth conquering and +to conquer in affairs of the heart. You need to be a Casanova--which +Harkness was in his little way--and I have had no aptitude for the +part. But as I said just now I absorbed his teachings and made use of +them. So far as he gave me food for reflection I ate it, and +assimilated it in my own manner. Neither by him nor by any person far +more considerable than himself has my imagination been moved in the +direction of the mover of it. Let great poet, great musician, great +painter stir me ever so deeply, I have never been able to follow him +an inch. I was excited by pictures to see new pictures of my own, by +poems to make poems--of my own, not of theirs. In these, no doubt, +were elements of theirs; there was a borrowed something, a quality, an +accent, a spirit of attack. But the forms were mine, and the setting +always so. All my life I have used other men's art and wisdom as a +spring-board. I suppose every poet can say the same. This was to be +the use to me of the lessons of the precocious, affectionate, and +philoprogenitive Harkness. + +I remember very well one golden summer evening when he and I lay +talking under a great oak--he expounding and I plucking at the grass +as I listened, or let my mind go free--how, quite suddenly, the mesh +he was weaving about my groping mind parted in the midst and showed me +for an appreciable moment a possibility of something--it was no +more--which he could never have seen. + +From the dense shade in which we lay there stretched out an avenue of +timber trees, whereunder the bracken, breast high, had been cut to +make a ride. Upon this bracken, and upon this smooth channel in the +midst the late sun streamed toward us, a soft wash of gold. Behind all +this the sky, pale to whiteness immediately overhead, deepened to the +splendid orange of the sunset. Each tree cast his shadow upon his +neighbour, so that only the topmost branches burned in the light. +Over and above us floated the drowsy hum of the insect world; rarely +we heard the moaning of a wood-dove, more rarely still the stirring of +deer hidden in the thicket shade. This was a magical evening, primed +with wonders, in the glamour of which Master Harkness could find +nothing better for him to rehearse than the progress of his amours +with his mother's housemaid. Yet something of the evening glow, +something of the opulence of summer smouldered in his words. He +painted his mistress with the colour of the sunset, he borrowed of it +burnt gold to deck her clay. He hymned the whiteness of her neck, her +slender waist, her whispers, the kisses of her mouth. The scamp was +luxuriating in his own imaginings or reminiscences, much less of a +lover and far more of a rhapsodist than he suspected. As such his pæan +of precocious love stirred my senses and fired my imagination, but not +in the direction of his own. For the glow which he cast upon his +affair was a borrowed one. He had dipped without knowing into the +languid glory of the evening, which like a pool of wealth lay ready to +my hand also. I gave him faint attention from the first. After he had +started my thoughts he might sing rapture after rapture of his young +and ardent sense. For me the spirit of a world not his whispered, "_A +te convien tenere altro viaggio_," and little as I knew it, in my +vague exploration of that scene of beauty, of those scarcely stirring, +stilly burning trees, of that shimmering-fronded fern, of that misty +splendour, I was hunting for the soul of it all, for the informing +spirit of it all. Harkness's erotics gave ardour to my search, but no +clew. I lost him, left him behind, and never found him again. He fell +into the Garden of Priapus, I doubt. As for me, I believed that I was +now looking upon a Dryad. I was looking certainly at a spirit +informed. A being, irradiate and quivering with life and joy of life, +stood dipt to the breast in the brake; stood so, bathing in the light; +stood so, preening herself like a pigeon on the roof-edge, and saw me +and took no heed. + +She had appeared, or had been manifest to me, quite suddenly. At one +moment I saw the avenue of lit green, at another she was dipt in it. I +could describe her now, at this distance of time--a radiant young +female thing, fiercely favoured, smiling with a fierce joy, with a +gleam of fierce light in her narrowed eyes. Upon her body and face was +the hue of the sun's red beam; her hair, loose and fanned out behind +her head, was of the colour of natural silk, but diaphanous as well as +burnished, so that while the surfaces glittered like spun glass the +deeps of it were translucent and showed the fire behind. Her garment +was thin and grey, and it clung to her like a bark, seemed to grow +upon her as a creeping stone-weed grows. Harkness would have admired +the audacity of her shape, as I did; but I found nothing provocative +in it. As well might a boy have enamoured himself of a slim tree as of +that unearthly shaft of beauty. + +I said that she preened herself; the word is inexact. She rather stood +bathing in the light, motionless but for the lifting of her face into +it that she might dip, or for the bending of her head that the warmth +behind her might strike upon the nape of her neck. Those were all her +movements, slowly rehearsed, and again and again rehearsed. With each +of them she thrilled anew; she thrilled and glowed responsive to the +play of the light. I don't know whether she saw me, though it seemed +to me that our looks had encountered. If her eyes had taken me in I +should have known it, I think; and if I had known it I should have +quailed and looked at her no more. So shamefaced was I, so +self-conscious, that I can be positive about that; for far from +avoiding her I watched her intently, studied her in all her parts, and +found out some curious things. + +Looking at her beside the oaks, for instance, whence she must have +emanated, I could judge why it was that I had not seen her come out. +Her colouring was precisely that of her background. Her garment, smock +or frock or vest as you will, was grey-green like the oak stems, her +whites were those of the sky-gleams, her roses those of the sun's +rays. The maze of her hair could hardly be told from the photosphere. +I tested this simply and summarily. Shutting my eyes for a second, +when I opened them she was gone. Shutting them again and opening, +there she was, sunning herself, breathing deep and long, watching her +own beauties as the light played with them. I tried this many times +and it did not fail me. I could, with her assistance, bring her upon +my retina or take her off it, as if I had worked a shutter across my +eyes. But as I watched her so I got very excited. Her business was so +mysterious, her pleasure in it so absorbing; she was visible and yet +secret; I was visible, and yet she could be ignorant of it. I got the +same throbbing sort of interest out of her as many and many a time I +have got since out of watching other wild creatures at their affairs, +crouching hidden where they could not discern me by any of their +senses. Few things enthral me more than that--and here I had my first +taste of it. I remember that my heart beat, I remember that I +trembled. Nothing could have torn me from the spot but what precisely +did, an alien intervention. The besotted Harkness stopped short in +his recital and asked me what I was staring at. + +That was the end of it. I had rather have died than tell him. Perhaps +I was afraid of his mockery, perhaps I dared not risk his unbelief, +perhaps I felt ashamed that I had been prying, perhaps I grudged him +the sight of her moulded beauty and keen wild face. "What am I staring +at? Why, nothing," I said. I got up and put the strap of my school +satchel over my head. I never looked for her again before I walked +away. Whether she left when I left, whether she was really there or a +projection of my mind, whether my inner self, my prisoner, had seen +her, or my schoolboy self through his agency, whether it was a trick +of the senses, a dream, or the like I can't tell you. I only know that +I have now recalled exactly what I seemed to see, and that I have seen +her since--her or her co-mate--once or twice. + +I can account for her now easily enough. I can assure myself that she +was really there, that she, or the like of her, pervades, haunts, +indwells all such places; but it seems that there must be a right +relation between the seer and the object before the unseen can become +the seen. Put it like this, that form is a necessary convention of our +being, a mode of consciousness just as space is, just as time, just +as rhythm are; then it is clear enough that the spirits of natural +fact must take on form and sensible body before we can apprehend them. +They take on such form for us or such body through our means; that is +what I mean by a right relation between them and ourselves. Now some +persons have the faculty of discerning spirits, that is, of clothing +them in bodily form, and others have not; but of those who have it all +do not discern them in the same form, or clothe them in the same body. +The form will be rhythmical to some, to other some audible, to others +yet again odorous, "aromatic pain," or bliss. These modes are no +matter, they are accidents of our state. They cause the form to be +relative, just as the conception of God is; but the substance is +constant. I have seen innumerable spirits, but always in bodily form. +I have never perceived them by means of any other sense, such as +hearing, though sight has occasionally been assisted by hearing. If +during an orchestral symphony you look steadily enough at one musician +or another you can always hear his instrument above the rest and +follow his part in the symphony. In the same way when I look at fairy +throngs I can hear them sing. If I single out one of them for +observation I hear him or her sing--not words, never words; they have +none. I saw once, like a driven cloud, the spirits of the North-west +wind sweep down the sky over the bare ridge of a chalk down, winged +and shrouded, eager creatures, embattled like a host. They were grey +and dun-coloured, pale in the face. Their hair swept forward, not +back; for it seemed as if the wind in gusts went faster than +themselves, and was driving them faster than they could go. Another +might well have heard these beings like a terrible, rushing music, as +cries of havoc or desolation, wild peals of laughter, fury and +exultation. But to me they were inaudible. I heard the volleying of +the wind, but them I saw. So in the still ecstasy of that Dryad +bathing in light I saw, beyond doubt, what the Greeks called by that +name, what some of them saw; and I saw it in their mode, although at +the time of seeing I knew nothing of them or their modes, because it +happened to be also my mode. But so far I did not more than see her, +for though I haunted the place where she had been she never came there +again, nor never showed herself. It became to me sacred ground, where +with awed breath I could say, "Here indeed she stood and bathed +herself. Here I really saw her, and she me;" and I encompassed it with +a fantastic cult of my own invention. It may have been very comic, or +very foolish, but I don't myself think it was either, because it was +so sincere, and because the impulse to do it came so naturally. I used +to bare my head; I made a point of saving some of my luncheon (which +I took with me to school) that I might leave it there. It was real +sacrifice that, because I had a fine appetite, and it was pure +worship. In my solitary hours, which were many, I walked with her of +course, talked and played with her. But that was another thing, +imagination, or fancy, and I don't remember anything of what we said +or did. It needs to be carefully distinguished from the first +apparition with which imagination, having nothing whatever to proceed +upon, had nothing whatever to do. One thing, however, I do remember, +that our relations were entirely sexless; and, as I write, another +comes into mind. I saw no affinity between her and the creature of my +first discovery. It never occurred to me to connect the two either +positively, as being inhabitants of a world of their own, or +negatively, as not being of my world. I was not a reflective boy, but +my mind proceeded upon flashes, by leaps of intuition. When I was +moved I could conceive anything, everything; when I was unmoved I was +as dull as a clod. It was idle to tell me to think. I could only think +when I was moved from within to think. That made me the despair of my +father and the vessel of my schoolmaster's wrath. So here I saw no +relationship whatsoever between the two appearances. Now, of course, I +do. I see now that both were fairies, informed spirits of certain +times or places. For time has a spirit as well as space. But more of +this in due season. I am not synthesising now but recording. One had +been merely curious, the other for a time enthralled me. The first had +been made when I was too young to be interested. The second found me +more prepared, and seeded in my brain for many a day. Gradually, +however, it too faded as fancy began to develop within me. I took to +writing, I began to fall in love; and at fifteen I went to a +boarding-school. Farewell, then, to rewards and fairies! + + + + +THE GODS IN THE SCHOOLHOUSE + + +Who am I to treat of the private affairs of my betters, to evoke your +fragrant names, Félicité, Perpetua, loves of my tender youth? Shall I +forget thee, Emilia, thy slow smile and peering brown eyes of mischief +or appeal? Rosy Lauretta, or thee, whom I wooed desperately from afar, +lured by thy buxom wellbeing, thy meek and schooled replies? And if I +forget you not, how shall I explore you as maladies, trace out the +stages of your conquest as if you were spores? Never, never. Worship +went up from me to you, and worship is religion, and religion is +sacred. So, my dears, were you, each of you in your turn, sacred in +your shrines. Before each of you in turn I fell down, suddenly, "_Come +corpo morto cadde_." And to each of you in turn I devoted those waking +hours which fancy had hitherto claimed of me. Yet this I do feel free +to say, by leave of you ladies, that calf-love has not the educative +value of the genuine passion. It is blind worship by instinct; it is a +sign of awakening sense, but it is not its awakener. It is a lovely +thing as all quick or burning growth is, but it has little relation +to the soul, and our Northern state is the more gracious that +consummation of it is not feasible. Apart from the very obvious +drawbacks there is one not quite so obvious: I mean the early +exhaustion of imaginative sympathy. Love, indeed, is an affair of +maturity. I don't believe that a man, in this country, can love before +forty or a woman before thirty-five. They may marry before that and +have children; and they will love their children, but very rarely each +other. I am thinking now of love at its highest rating, as that +passion which is able to lift a man to the highest flight of which the +soul is capable here on earth--a flight, mind you, which it may take +without love, as the poet's takes it, or the musician's, but which the +ordinary man's can only take by means of love. Calf-love is wholly a +sex matter, perfectly natural, mostly harmless, and nearly always a +beautiful thing, to be treated tenderly by the wise parent. + +In my own case my mother treated it so, with a tact and a reverential +handling which only good women know, and I had it as I had mumps and +measles, badly, with a high temperature and some delirium but with no +aggravation from outside. It ran its course or its courses and left me +sane. One of its effects upon me was that it diverted the mind of my +forensic self from the proceedings or aptitudes of my recondite. I +neither knew nor cared what my wayward tenant might be doing; indeed, +so much was my natural force concerned in the heart-affair of the +moment that the other wretch within me lay as it were bound in a +dungeon. He never saw the light. The sun to him was dark and silent +was the moon. There, in fact, he remained for some five or six years, +while sex pricked its way into me intent upon the making of a man. He, +maybe, was to have something to say to that, something to do with +it--but not yet. + +So much for calf-love; but now for a more important matter. I left the +Grammar School at S----, at the age when boys usually go to their +Harrow and Winchester, as well equipped, I daresay, as most boys of my +years; for with the rudiments I had been fairly diligent, and with +some of them even had become expert. I was well grounded in Latin and +French grammar, and in English literature was far ahead of boys much +older than myself. Looking back now upon the drilling I had at S----, +I consider it was well done; but I have to set against the benefits I +got from the system the fact that I had much privacy and all the +chance which that gives a boy to educate himself withal. My school +hours limited my intercourse with the school world. Before and after +them I could develop at my own pace and in my own way--and I did. I +believe that when I went to my great school I had the makings of an +interesting lad in me; but I declare upon my conscience that it was +that place only which checked the promise for ten years or more, and +might have withered it altogether. + +My father was an idealist of 1851; he showed the enthusiasm and nursed +in his bosom the hopes and beliefs of the promoters of the +International Exhibition of that year. There was a plentiful planting +of foreign stock in England after that, and one of its weedy saplings +was an International Education Company, which out of a magniloquent +prospectus and some too-confident shareholders bore one fruit, the +London International College at Spring Grove. It never came to +maturity, and is now dropped and returned to the ground of all such +schemes. I suppose it had been on the stalk some fifteen years when I +went to feed of it. + +The scheme, in fact, sprang out of enthusiasm and had no bottom in +experience. It may be true that all men are brothers, but it is not +logical to infer from that that all brothers are the better for each +other's society. The raw Brazilians, Chilians, Nicaraguans and what +not who were drawn from their native forests and plunged into the +company of blockish Yorkshire lads, or sharp-faced London boys, were +only scared into rebellion and to demonstration after their manner. +They used the knife sometimes; they hardly ever assimilated; and they +taught us nothing that we were the better of knowing. Quite the +contrary. We taught them football, I think, and I remember a negro +from Bermuda, a giant of a fellow who raged over the ground like a +goaded bull when that game was being played, to the consternation of +his opponents. He had a younger brother with inordinately long arms, +like a great lax ape, a cheerful, grinning, harmless creature as I +remember him. He was a football player too; his hug was that of an +octopus which swallowed you all. As for the English, in return for +their football lore they received the gift of tobacco. I learned to +smoke at fifteen from a Chilian called Perez, a wizened, +preternaturally wise, old youth. Nobody in the world could have been +wise as he looked, and nobody else in the school as dull as he really +was. Over this motley assembly was set as house-master a ferocious +Scotchman of great parts, but no discretion; and there were +assistants, too, of scholarship and refinement, who, if they had had +the genius for education, without which these things are nothing, +might have put humanity into some of us. When it was past the time I +discovered this, and one of them became my friend and helper. I then +discovered the tragedy of our system from the other side. For the +pain is a two-edged sword, and imbrues the breast of the pedagogue +even while it bleeds the pupil to inanition. That poor man, scholar, +gentleman, humourist, poet, as he was, held boys in terror. He +misdoubted them; they made him self-conscious, betrayed him into +strange hidden acts of violence, rendered him incapable of instruction +except of the most conventional kind. All his finer nature, his +humanism, was paralysed. We thought him a poor fool, and got a crude +entertainment out of his antics. Actually he was tormenting in a +flame; and we thought his contortions ridiculous. God help us all, how +are we to get at each other, caged creatures as we are! But this is +indeed a tragic business, and I don't want you to tear your hair. + +I remained at Spring Grove, I think, four or five years, a barren, +profitless time. I remember scarcely one gleam of interest which +pierced for more than a few moments the thick gloom of it. The cruel, +dull, false gods of English convention (for thought it is not) held me +fast; masters and pupils alike were jailers to me. I ate and drank of +their provision and can recall still with nausea the sour, stale +taste, and still choke with the memory of the chaff and grit of its +quality. Accursed, perverse generation! God forbid that any child of +mine should suffer as I suffered, starve as I starved, stray where I +was driven to stray. The English boarding-school system is that of the +straw-yard where colts are broken by routine, and again of the +farmyard where pups are walked. Drill in school, _laissez-faire_ out +of it. It is at once too dull and too indolent to recognise character +or even to look for it; it recks nothing of early development or late; +it measures young humanity for its class-rooms like a tailor, with the +yard measure. The discipline of boy over boy is, as might be expected, +brutal or bestial. The school-yard is taken for the world in small, +and so allowed to be. There is no thought taken, or at least betrayed, +that it is nothing more than a preparation for the world at large. +There is no reason, however, to suppose that the International College +was worse than any other large boarding-school. I fancy, indeed, that +it was in all points like the rest. There were no traces in my time of +the Brotherhood of Man about it. A few Portuguese, a negro or two were +there, and a multitude of Jews. But I fancy I should have found the +same sort of thing at Eton. + +I was not in any sense suited to such a place as this; if I had been +sent to travel it had been better for me. I was "difficult," not +because I was stiff but because I was lax. I resisted nothing except +by inertia. If my parents did not know me--and how should they?--if I +did not know myself, and I did not, my masters, for their part, made +no attempt to know me nor even inquired whether there might be +anything to know. I was unpopular, as might have been expected, made +no friends, did no good. My brother, on the other hand, was an ideal +schoolboy, diligent, brisk, lovable, abounding in friendships, good at +his work and excellent at his play. His career at Spring Grove was one +long happy triumph, and he deserved it. He has a charming nature, and +is one of the few naturally holy persons I know. Wholesome, thank God, +we all are, or could be; pious we nearly all are; but holiness is a +rare quality. + +If I were to try and set down here the really happy memories which I +have of Spring Grove they would be three. The first was the revelation +of Greece which was afforded me by Homer and Plato. The surging music +and tremendous themes of the poet, the sweet persuasion of the sophist +were a wonder and delight. I remember even now the thrill with which I +heard my form-master translate for us the prayer with which the +_Phædrus_ closes: "Beloved Pan, and all ye other gods who haunt this +place...." Beloved Pan! My knowledge of Pan was of the vaguest, and +yet more than once or twice did I utter that prayer wandering alone +the playing field, or watching the evening mist roll down the Thames +Valley and blot up the elm trees, thick and white, clinging to the day +like a fleece. The third Iliad again I have never forgotten, nor the +twenty-fourth; nor the picture of the two gods, like vulture birds, +watching the battle from the dead tree. Nor, again, do I ever fail to +recapture the beat of the heart with which I apprehended some of +Homer's phrases: "Sandy Pylos," Argos "the pasture land of horses," or +"clear-seen" Ithaca. These things happened upon by chance in the dusty +class-room, in the close air of that terrible hour from two to three, +were as the opening of shutters to the soul, revealing blue distances, +dim fields, or the snowy peaks of mountains in the sun. One seemed to +lift, one could forget. It lasted but an instant; but time is of no +account to the inner soul, of no more account than it is to God. I +have never forgotten these moments of escape; nor can I leave Homer +without confessing that his books became my Bible. I accepted his +theology implicitly; I swallowed it whole. The Godhead of the +Olympians, the lesser divinity of Thetis and Alpheios and Xanthos were +indisputable. They were infinitely more real to me than the deities of +my own land; and though I have found room for these later on in life, +it has not been by displacing the others. Nor is there any need for +that, so far as I see. I say that out of Homer I took his Gods; I add +that I took them instantly. I seemed to breathe the air of their +breath; they appealed to my reason; I knew that they had existed and +did still exist. I was not shocked or shaken in my faith, either, by +anything I read about them. Young as I was and insipient, I was +prepared for what is called the burlesque Olympus of the Iliad, so +grievous to Professor Murray. I think I recognised then, what seems +perfectly plain to me now, that you might as well think meanly of a +God of Africa because the natives make him of a cocoanut on a stick, +as of Zeus and Hera because Homer says that they played peccant +husband and jealous wife. If Homer halted it is rash to assume that +Hephaistos did. The pathetic fallacy has crept in here. Mythology was +one of the few subjects I diligently read at school, and all I got out +of it was pure profit--for I realised that the Gods' world was not +ours, and that when their natures came in conflict with ours some such +interpretation must always be put upon their victory. We have a moral +law for our mutual wellbeing which they have not. We translate their +deeds in terms of that law of ours, and it certainly appears like a +standing fact of Nature that when the beings of one order come into +commerce with those of another the result will be tragic. There is +only a harmony in acquiescence, and the way to that is one of blood +and tears. + +Brooding over all this I discerned dimly, even in that dusty, brawling +place, and time showed me more and more clearly, that I had always +been aware of the Gods and conscious of their omnipresence. It seemed +plain to me that Zeus, whose haunt is dark Dodona, lorded it over the +English skies and was to be heard in the thunder crashing over the +elms of Middlesex. I knew Athené in the shrill wind which battled +through the vanes and chimneys of our schoolhouse. Artemis was Lady of +my country. By Apollo's light might I too come to be led. Poseidon of +the dark locks girdled my native seas. I had had good reason to know +the awfulness of Pan, and guessed that some day I should couch with +Koré the pale Queen. I called them by these names, since these names +expressed to me their essence: you may call them what you will, and so +might I, for I had not then reasoned with myself about names. By their +names I knew them. The Gods were there, indeed, ignorantly worshipped +by all and sundry. Then the Dryad of my earlier experience came up +again, and I saw that she stood in such a relation to the Gods as I +did, perhaps, to the Queen of England; that she, no less than they, +was part of a wonderful order, and the visible expression of the +spirit of some Natural Fact. But whether above all the Gods and +nations of men and beasts there were one God and Father of us all, +whether all Nature were one vast synthesis of Spirit having +innumerable appearance but one soul, I did not then stay to inquire, +and am not now prepared to say. I don't mean by that at all that I +don't believe it. I do believe it, but by an act of religion; for +there are states of the individual mind, states of impersonal soul in +which this belief is a positive truth, in the which one exults madly, +or by it is humbled to the dust. Religion, to my mind, is the result +of this consciousness of kinship with the principle of Life; all the +emotion and moral uplifting involved in this tremendous certainty, and +all the lore gathered and massed about it--this is Religion. Young as +I was at the time I now speak of, ignorant and dumb as I was, I had my +moments of exultation and humility,--moments so wild that I was +transported out of myself. I left my body supine in its narrow bed and +soared above the stars. At such times, in an æther so deep that the +blue of it looked like water, I seemed to see the Gods themselves, a +shining row of them, upon the battlements of Heaven. I called Heaven +Olympus, and conceived of Olympus as a towered city upon a white hill. +Looming up out of the deep blue arch, it was vast and covered the +whole plateau: I saw the walls of it run up and down the ridges, in +and out of the gorges which cut into the mass. It had gates, but I +never saw forms of any who entered or left it. It was full of light, +and had the look of habitancy about it; but I saw no folk. Only at +rare moments of time while I hovered afar off looking at the wonder +and radiance of it, the Gods appeared above the battlements in a +shining row--still and awful, each of them ten feet high. + +These were fine dreams for a boy of sixteen in a schoolhouse +dormitory. They were mine, though: but I dreamed them awake. I awoke +before they began, always, and used to sit up trembling and wait for +them. + +An apologue, if you please. On the sacred road from Athens to Eleusis, +about midway of its course, and just beyond the pass, there is a fork +in it, and a stony path branches off and leads up into the hills. +There, in the rock, is a shallow cave, and before that, where once was +an altar of Aphrodite, the ruins of her shrine and precinct may be +seen. As I was going to Eleusis the other day, I stopped the carriage +to visit the place. Now, beside the cave is a niche, cut square in the +face of the rock, for offerings; and in that niche I found a fresh +bunch of field flowers, put there by I know not what dusty-foot +wayfarer. That was no longer ago than last May, and the man who did +the piety was a Christian, I suppose. So do I avow myself, without +derogation, I hope, to the profession; for no more than Mr. Robert +Kirk, a minister of religion in Scotland in the seventeenth century, +do I consider that a knowledge of the Gods is incompatible with belief +in God. There is a fine distinction for you: I believe that God +exists; I infer him by reason stimulated by desire. But I know that +the Gods exist by other means than those. If I could be as sure of God +as I am of the Gods, I might perhaps be a better Christian, but I +should not believe any less in the Gods. + + * * * * * + +I found religion through Homer: I found poetry through Milton, whose +_Comus_ we had to read for examination by some learned Board. If any +one thing definitely committed me to poesy it was that poem; and as +has nearly always happened to me, the crisis of discovery came in a +flash. We were all there ranked at our inky desks on some drowsy +afternoon. The books lay open before us, the lesson, I suppose, +prepared. But what followed had not been prepared--that some one began +to read: + + "The star that bids the shepherd fold + Now the top of Heav'n doth hold; + And the gilded car of day + His glowing axle doth allay + In the steep Atlantic stream"-- + +and immediately, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, it was +changed--for me--from verse to poetry; that is, from a jingle to a +significant fact. It was more than it appeared; it was transfigured; +its implication was manifest. That's all I can say--except this, that, +untried as I was, I jumped into the poetic skin of the thing, and felt +as if I had written it. I knew all about it, "_e'l chi, e'l quale_"; I +was privy to its intricacy; I caught without instruction the +alternating beat in the second line, and savoured all the good words, +_gilded car_, _glowing axle_, _Star that bids the shepherd fold_. +_Allay_ ravished me, young as I was. I knew why he had called the +Atlantic stream _steep_, and remembered Homer's "Στυγὸς ὔδατος αἰπὰ +ῥέεθρα." Good soul, our pedagogue suggested _deep_! I remember to this +hour the sinking of the heart with which I heard him. But the flash +passed and darkness again gathered about me, the normal darkness of +those hateful days. "Sabrina fair" lifted it; my sky showed me an +amber shaft. I am recording moments, the reader will remember, the few +gleams which visited me in youth. I was far from the time when I could +connect them, see that poetry was the vesture of religion, the woven +garment whereby we see God. Love had to teach me that. I was not born +until I loved. + +My third happy memory is of a brief and idyllic attachment, very +fervent, very romantic, entirely my own, and as I remember it, now, +entirely beautiful. Nothing remains but the fragrance of it, and its +dream-like quality, the sense I have of straying with the beloved +through a fair country. Such things assure me that I was not wholly +dead during those crushing years of servitude. + +But those are, as I say, gleams out of the dark. They comfort me with +the thought that the better part of me was not dead, but buried here +with the worse. They point also to the truth, as I take it to be, that +the lack of privacy is one of the most serious detriments of +public-school life. I don't say that privacy is good for all boys, or +that it is good for any unless they are provided with a pursuit. It is +true that many boys seek to be private that they may be vicious, and +that the having the opportunity for privacy leads to vice. But that is +nearly always the fault of the masters. Vice is due to the need for +mental or material excitement; it is a crude substitute for romance. +If a boy is debarred from good romance, because he doesn't feel it or +hasn't been taught to feel it, he will take to bad. It is nothing else +at all: he is bored. And remembering that a boy can only think of one +thing at a time, the single aim of the master should be to give every +boy in his charge some sane interest which he can pursue to the death, +as a terrier chases a smell, in and out, up and down, every nerve bent +and quivering. There is a problem of the teaching art which the +College at Spring Grove made no attempt to solve while I was there. +You either played football and cricket or you were negligible. I was +bad at both, was negligible, and neglected. + +I suspect that my experiences are very much those of other people, and +that is why I have taken the trouble to articulate them, and perhaps +to make them out more coherent than they were. We don't feel in images +or think in words. The images are about us, the words may be at hand; +but it may well be that we are better without them. This world is a +tight fit, and life in it, as the Duke said of one day of his own +life, is "a devilish close-run thing." If the blessed Gods and the +legions of the half-gods in their habit as they live, were to be as +clear to us as our neighbour Tom or our chief at the office, what +might be the lot of Tom's wife, or what the security of our high stool +at the desk? As things are, our blank misgivings are put down to +nerves, our yearning for wings to original sin. The policeman at the +street corner sees to it, for our good, that we put out of sight these +things, and so we grow rich and make a good appearance. It is only +when we are well on in years that we can afford to be precise and, +looking back, to remember the celestial light, the glory and the +freshness of the dream in which we walked and bathed ourselves. + + + + +THE SOUL AT THE WINDOW + + +When I had been in London a year or two, and the place with its hordes +was become less strange and less formidable to me, I began to discover +it for myself. Gradually the towering cliffs resolved themselves into +houses, and the houses into shrouded holds, each with character and +each hiding a mystery. They now stood solitary which had before been +an agglutinated mass. Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.... I knew +one from the other by sight, and had for each a specific sensation of +attraction or repulsion, of affection or terror. I read through the +shut doors, I saw through the blank windows; not a house upon my daily +road but held a drama or promised a tragedy. I had no sense for comedy +in those days; life to me, waking life, was always a dreadful thing. +And sometimes my bodily eyes had glimpses which confirmed my +fancy--unexpected, sudden and vivid flashes behind curtained windows. +I once saw two men fighting, shadowed black upon a white blind. I once +looked out of a window at the Army and Navy Stores into a mean +bedroom across the way. There was a maidservant in there, making beds, +emptying slops, tidying this and that. Quite suddenly she threw her +head up with a real despair, and next moment she was on her knees by +the bed. Praying! I never saw prayer like that in this country. The +soul went streaming from her mouth like blown smoke. And again, one +night, very late, I was going to bed, and leaned out of my window for +air. Before me, across back yards, leafless trees, and a litter of +packing-cases and straw, rose up a dark rampart of houses, in the +midst of it a lit window. I saw a poorly furnished sitting-room--a +table with a sewing machine, a paraffin lamp, a chair with an +antimacassar. A man in his shirt sleeves sat there by the table, +smoking a pipe. Then the door opened and a tall, slim woman came in, +all in white, with loose dark hair floating about her shoulders. She +stood between door and table and rested her hand upon the edge of the +table. The man, after a while of continuing to read, quite suddenly +looked up and saw her. They looked at each other motionless. He cast +down his paper, sprang up and went to her. He fell to his knees before +her and clasped hers. She looked across, gravely considering, then +laid her hand upon his head. That was all. I saw no more. Husband and +wife? Mother and son? Sinner and Saviour? What do I know? + +As with the houses, homes of mystery, so with the men and women one +passed; homes, they too, of things hidden yet more deep. The noise of +the streets, at first paralysing, died down to a familiar rumble, and +the ear began to distinguish voices in the tide. Sounds of crying, +calls for help, hailings, laughter, tears, separated themselves and +appealed. You heard them, like the cries of the drowning, drifting by +you upon a dark tide-way. You could do nothing; a word would have +broken the spell. The mask which is always over the face would have +covered the tongue or throttled the larynx. You could do nothing but +hear. + +Finally, the passing faces became sometimes penetrable, betrayed by +some chance gleam of the eyes, some flicker of the lips, a secret to +be shared, or conveyed by a hint some stabbing message out of the deep +into the deep. That is what I mean by the soul at the window. Every +one of us lives in a guarded house; door shut, windows curtained. Now +and then, however, you look up above the street level and catch a +glimpse of the scared prisoner inside. He may be a satyr, a fairy, an +ape or an angel; he's a prisoner anyhow, who sometimes comes to the +window and looks strangely out. You may see him there by chance, +saying to himself like Chaucer's Creseyde in the temple, "Ascaunces, +What! May I not stonden here?" And I found out for myself that there +is scarcely a man or woman alive who does not hold such a tenant more +or less deeply within his house. + +Sometimes the walls of the house are transparent, like a frog's foot, +and you see the prisoner throbbing and quivering inside. This is rare. +Shelley's house must have been a filmy tenement of the kind. With +children--if you catch them young enough--it is more common. I +remember one whom I used to see nearly every day, the child of poor +parents, who kept a green-grocer's shop in Judd Street, Saint Pancras, +a still little creature moving about in worlds not recognised. She was +slim and small, fair-haired, honey-coloured, her eyes wells of blue. I +used to see her standing at the door of the shop, amid baskets of +green stuff, crimsoned rhubarb, pyramided dates, and what not. I never +saw her dirty or untidy, nor heard her speak, nor saw her laugh. She +stood or leaned at the lintel, watching I know not what, but certainly +not anything really there, as we say. She appeared to be looking +through objects rather than at them. I can describe it no otherwise +than that I, or another, crossed her field of vision and was conscious +that her eyes met mine and yet did not see me. To me she was instantly +remarkable, not for this and not for any beauty she had--for she was +not at all extraordinary in that quality--but for this, that she was +not of our kind. Surrounded by other children, playing gaily, circling +about her, she was _sui generis_. She carried her own atmosphere, +whereby in the company of others she seemed unaccountable, by herself +only, normal. Nature she fitted perfectly, but us she did not fit. +Now, it is a curious thing, accepted by all visionaries, that a +supernatural being, a spirit, fairy, not-human creature, if you see it +among animals, beasts and birds, on hills or in the folds of hills, +among trees, by waters, in fields of flowers, _looks at home_ and +evidently is so. The beasts are conscious of it, know it and have no +fear of it; the hills and valleys are its familiar places in a way +which they will never be to the likes of us. But put a man beside it +and it becomes at once supernatural. I have seen spirits, beings, +whatever they may be, in empty space, and have observed them as part +of the landscape, no more extraordinary than grazing cattle or +wheeling plover. Again I have seen a place thick with them, as thick +as a London square in a snow-storm, and a man walk clean through them +unaware of their existence, and make them, by that act, a mockery of +the senses. So precisely it was with this strange child, unreal to me +when she was real to everybody else. + +She had a name, a niche in the waking world. Marks, Greengrocer, was +the inscription of the shop. She was Elsie Marks. Her father was a +stout, florid man of maybe fifty years, with a chin-beard and +light-blue eyes. Good-humoured he seemed, and prosperous, something of +a ready wit, a respected and respectable man, who stamped his way +about the solid ground in a way which defied dreams. + +If I had been experienced, I should have remarked the mother, but in +fact I barely remember her, though I spoke with her one day. She was +somewhat heavy and grave, I think, downcast and yet watchful. She did +her business efficiently, without enthusiasm, and did not enter into +general conversation with her customers. Her husband did that part of +the business. Marks was a merry Jew. I bought oranges of her once for +the sake of hearing her speak, and while she was serving me the child +came into the shop and stood by her. She leaned against her rather +than stood, took the woman's disengaged arm and put it round her neck. +Looks passed between them; the mother's sharply down, the child's +searchingly up. On either side there was pain, as if each tried to +read the other. + +I was very shy with strangers. The more I wanted to get on terms with +them the less I was able to do it. I asked the child whether she liked +oranges. + +I asked the child, but the mother answered me, measuring her words. + +"She likes nothing of ours. It's we that like and she that takes." +That was her reply. + +"I am sure that she likes you at any rate," I said. Her hold on the +child tightened, as if to prevent an escape. + +"She should, since I bore her. But she has much to forgive me." + +Such a word left me dumb. I was not then able to meet women on such +terms. Nor did I then understand her as I do now. + +Here is another case. There was a slatternly young woman whom I +caught, or who caught me, unawares; who suddenly threw open the +windows and showed me things I had never dreamed. + +Opposite the chambers in R---- Buildings where I worked, or was +intended to work, and across a wall, there was a row of tenements +called, if I remember, Gaylord's Rents. Part mews, part warehouses, +and all disreputable, the upper story of it, as it showed itself to me +over the wall, held some of the frowsiest of London's horde. Exactly +before my eyes was one of the lowest of these hovels, the upper part +of a stable, I imagine, since it had, instead of a window, a door, of +which half was always shut and half always open, so that light might +get in or the tenants lean out to take the air. + +Here, and so leaning her bare elbows, I saw on most days of the week a +slim young woman airing herself--a pale-faced, curling-papered, +half-bodiced, unwashed drab of a girl, who would have had shame +written across her for any one to read if she had not seemed of all +women I have ever seen the least shamefaced. Her brows were as +unwritten as a child's, her smile as pure as a seraph's, and her eyes +blue, unfaltering and candid. She laughed a greeting, exchanged +gossip, did her sewing, watched events, as the case might be, was not +conscious of her servitude or anxious to market it. Sometimes she +shared her outlook with an old woman--a horrible, greasy go-between, +with straggling grey hair and a gin-inflamed face. She chatted with +this beldame happily, she cupped her vile old dewlap, or stroked her +dishonourable head; sometimes a man in shirt sleeves was with her, +treated her familiarly, with rude embraces, with kisses, nudges and +leers. She accepted all with good-humour and, really, complete good +breeding. She invited nothing, provoked nothing, but resented nothing. +It seemed to me as if all these things were indeed nothing to her; +that she hardly knew that they were done; as if her soul could render +them at their proper worth, transmute them, sherd them off, discard +them. It was, then, her surface which took them; what her soul +received was a distillation, an essence. + +Then one night I had all made plain. She entranced me on a summer +night of stillness, under a full yellow moon. I was working late, till +past ten, past eleven o'clock, and looking out of my open window +suddenly was aware of her at hers. The shutter was down, both wings of +it, and she stood hovering, seen at full length, above the street. +She! Could this be she? It was so indeed--but she was transfigured, +illuminated from within; she rayed forth light. The moon shone full +upon her, and revealed her pure form from head to foot swathed in +filmy blue--a pale green-blue, the colour of ocean water seen from +below. Translucent webbery, whatever it was, it showed her beneath it +as bare as Venus was when she fared forth unblemished from the sea. +Her pale yellow hair was coiled above her head; her face looked mild +and radiant with a health few Londoners know. Her head was bent in a +considering way; she stood as one who is about to plunge into deep +water, and stands hesitating at the shock. Once or twice she turned +her face up, to bathe it in the light. I saw that in it which in human +faces I had never seen--communion with things hidden from men, secret +knowledge shared with secret beings, assurance of power above our +hopes. + +Breathless I watched her, the drab of my daily observation, radiant +now; then as I watched she stretched out her arms and bent them +together like a shield so that her burning face was hidden from me, +and without falter or fury launched herself into the air, and dropt +slowly down out of my sight. + +Exactly so she did it. As we may see a pigeon or chough high on the +verge of a sea-cliff float out into the blue leagues of the air, and +drift motionless and light--or descend to the sea less by gravity than +at will--so did she. There was nothing premeditated, there was nothing +determined on: mood was immediately translated into ability--she was +at will lighter or heavier than the air. It was so done that here was +no shock at all--she in herself foreshadowed the power she had. +Rather, it would have been strange to me if, irradiated, transplendent +as she was, she had not considered her freedom and on the instant +indulged it. I accepted her upon her face value without question--I +did not run out to spy upon her. _Ecce unus fortior me!_ + +In this case, being still new to the life into which I was gradually +being drawn, it did not for one moment occur to me to start an +adventure of my own. I might have accosted the woman, who was, as the +saying goes, anybody's familiar; or I might have spied for another +excursion of her spirit, and, with all preparation made, have followed +her. But I did neither of these things at the time. I saw her next +day leaning bare-elbowed on the ledge of her half-door, her hair in +curl-papers, her face the pale unwholesome pinched oval of most London +women of her class. Her bodice was pinned across her chest; she was +coarse-aproned, new from the wash-tub or the grate. Not a sign upon +her but told of her frowsy round. The stale air of foul lodgment was +upon her. I found out indeed this much about her ostensible state, +that she was the wife of a cab-driver whose name was Ventris. He was +an ill-conditioned, sottish fellow who treated her badly, but had +given her a child. But he was chiefly on night-work at Euston, and the +man whom I had seen familiar with her in the daytime was not he. Her +reputation among her neighbours was not good. She was, in fact, no +better than she should be--or, as I prefer to put it, no better than +she could be. + +Yet I knew her, withal, as of the fairy-kind, bound to this +earth-bondage by some law of the Universe not yet explored; not +pitiable because not self-pitying, and (what is more important) not +reprehensible because impossible to be bound, as we are, soul to body. +I know that now, but did not know it then; and yet--extraordinary +thing--I was never shocked by the contrast between her two states of +being. This is to me a clear and certain evidence of their +reality--just as it is evidence to me that when, at ten years old, I +seemed to see the boy in the wood, I really did see him. An +hallucination or a dream upsets your moral balance. The things +impressed upon you are abnormal; and the abnormal disturbs you. Now +these apparitions did not seem abnormal. I saw nothing wonderful in +Mrs. Ventris's act. I was impressed by it, I was excited by it, as I +still am by a convulsion of nature--a thunder-storm in the Alps, for +instance, a water-spout at sea. Such things hold beauty and terror; +they entrance, they appal; but they never shock. They happen, and they +are right. I have not seen what people call a ghost, and I have often +been afraid lest I should see one. But I know very well that if ever I +did I should have no fear. I know very well that a natural fact +impresses its conformity with law upon you first and last. It becomes, +on the moment of its appearance, a part of the landscape. If it does +not, it is an hallucination, or a freak of the imagination, and will +shock you. I have much more extraordinary experiences than this to +relate, but there will be nothing shocking in these pages--at least +nothing which gave me the least sensation of shock. One of them--a +thing extraordinary to all--must occupy a chapter by itself. I cannot +precisely fit a date to it, though I shall try. And as it forms a +whole, having a beginning, a middle and an end, I shall want to +depart from my autobiographical plan and put it in as a whole. The +reader will please to recollect that it did not work itself out in my +consciousness by a flash. The first stages of it came so, in flashes +of revelation; but the conclusion was of some years later, when I was +older and more established in the world. + + * * * * * + +But before I embark upon it I should like to make a large jump forward +and finish with the young woman of Gaylord's Rents. It was by accident +that I happened upon her at her mysteries, at a later day when I was +living in London, in Camden Town. + +By that time I had developed from a lad of inarticulate mind and +unexpressed desires into a sentient and self-conscious being. I was +more or less of a man, not only adventurous but bold in the pursuit of +adventure. I lived for some two or three years in that sorry quarter +of London in complete solitude--"in poverty, total idleness and the +pride of literature," like Doctor Johnson, for though I wrote little I +read much, and though I wrote little I was most conscious that I was +about to write much. It was a period of brooding, of mewing my youth, +and whatever facility of imagination and expression I have since +attained I owe very much to my hermitage in Albert Street. + +If I walked in those days it was by night. London at night is a very +different place from the town of business and pleasure of ordinary +acquaintance. During the day I fulfilled my allotted hours at the +desk; but immediately they were over I returned to my lodgings, got +out my books, and sat enthralled until somewhere near midnight. But +then, instead of going to bed, I was called by the night, and forth I +sallied all agog. I walked the city, the embankment, skirted the +parks, unless I were so fortunate as to slip in before gate-shutting. +Often I was able to remain in Kensington Gardens till the opening +hour. Highgate and its woods, Parliament Hill with its splendid +panorama of twinkling beacons and its noble tent of stars, were great +fields for me. Hampstead Heath, Wimbledon, even Richmond and Bushey +have known me at their most secret hour. Such experiences as I have +had of the preternatural will find their place in this book, but not +their chronological place, for the simple reason that, as I kept no +diary, I cannot remember in what order of time they befell me. But it +was on the southern slope of Parliament Hill that I came again upon +the fairy-woman of Gaylord's Rents. + +I was there at midnight, a mild radiant night of late April. There +were sheep at graze there, for though it was darkish under the +three-quarter moon, I was used to the dark, and could see them, a +woolly mass, quietly feeding close together. I saw no shepherd +anywhere; but I remember that his dog sat on his haunches apart, +watching them. He was prick-eared, bright-eyed; he grinned and panted +intensely. I didn't then know why he was so excited, but very soon I +did. + +I became aware, gradually, that a woman stood among the sheep. She had +not been there when I first saw them, I am sure; nor did I see her +approach them or enter their school. Yet there she was in the midst of +them, seen now by me as she had evidently been seen for some time by +the dog, seen, I suppose, by the sheep--at any rate she stood in the +midst of them, as I say, with her hand actually upon the shoulder of +one of them--but not feared or doubted by any soul of us. The dog was +vividly interested, but did not budge; the sheep went on feeding; I +stood bolt upright, watching. + +I knew her the moment I saw her. She was the exquisitely formed, slim +and glowing creature I had seen before, when she launched herself into +the night as a God of Homer--Hermes or Thetis--launched out from +Olympus' top into the sea--"ἐξ αἰθέρος ἔμπεσε πόντῳ," and words fail +me to describe the perfection of her being, a radiant simulacrum of +our own, the inconscient self-sufficiency, the buoyancy and freedom +which she showed me. You may sometimes see boys at their maddest tip +of expectation stand waiting as she now stood, quivering on the +extreme edge of adventure; yet even in their case there is a +consciousness of well being, a kind of rolling of anticipation upon +the palate, a getting of the flavours beforehand. That involves a +certain dissipation of activity; but here all was concentrated. The +whole nature of the creature was strung to one issue only, to that +point when she could fling headlong into activity--an activity in +which every fibre and faculty would be used. A comparison of the +fairy-kind with human beings is never successful, because into our +images of human beings we always import self-consciousness. They know +what they are doing. Fairies do not. But wait a moment; there is a +reason. Human creatures, I think, know what they are doing only too +well, because performance never agrees with desire. They know what +they are doing because it is never exactly what they meant to do, or +what they wanted to do. Now, with fairies, desire to do and +performance are instinctive and simultaneous. If they think, they +think in action. In this they are far more like animals than human +creatures, although the form in which they appear to us, their shape +and colouring are like ours, enhanced and refined. Here now stood this +creature in the semblance of a woman glorified, quivering; and so, +perched high on his haunches, sat the shepherd's dog, and no one could +look at the two and not see their kinship. _Arrière-pensée_ they had +none--and all's said in that. They were shameless, and we are full of +shame. There's the difference; and it is a gulf. + +After a while of this quivering suspense she gave a low call, a long +mellow and tremulous cry which, gentle as it was, startled by its +suddenness, as the unexpected call of a water-fowl out of the reeds of +a pond makes the heart jump toward the throat. It was like some bird's +call, but I know of no bird's with which to get a close comparison. It +had the soft quality, soft yet piercing, of a redshank's, but it +shuddered like an owl's. And she held it on as an owl does. But it was +very musical, soft and open-throated, and carried far. It was answered +from a distance, first by a single voice; but then another took it up, +and another; and then another. Slowly so the soft night was filled +with musical cries which quavered about me as fitfully as fire-flies +gleam and glance in all quarters of a garden of olive-trees. It was +enchantment to the ear, a ravishing sound; but it was my eyes which +claimed me now, for soon I saw them coming from all quarters. Or +rather, I saw them there, for I can't say definitely that I saw any +one of them on the way. It is truer to say that I looked and they were +there. Where had been one were now two. Now two were five; now five +were a company; now the company was a host. I have no idea how many +there were of them at any time; but when they joined hands and set to +whirling in a ring they seemed to me to stretch round Parliament Hill +in an endless chain. + +How can I be particular about them? They were of both sexes--that was +put beyond doubt; they were garbed as the first of them in something +translucent and grey. It had been quite easy in the lamplight to see +the bare form of the woman whom I first saw in Gaylord's Rents. It was +plain to me that her companions were in the same kind of dress. I +don't think they had girdles; I think their arms and legs were bare. I +should describe the garment as a sleeveless smock to the knees, or +perhaps, more justly, as a sack of silky gauze with a hole for the +head and two for the arms. That was the effect of it. It hung straight +and took the folds natural to it. It was so light that it clung +closely to the body where it met the air. What it was made of I have +no notion; but it was transparent or nearly so. I am pretty sure that +its own colour was grey. + +They greeted each other; they flitted about from group to group +greeting; and they greeted by touching, sometimes with their hands, +sometimes with their cheeks. They neither kissed nor spoke. I never +saw them kiss even when they loved--which they rarely did. I saw one +greeting between two females. They ran together and stopped short +within touching distance. They looked brightly and intently at each +other, and leaning forward approached their cheeks till they +touched.[2] They touched by the right, they touched by the left. Then +they took hands and drew together. By a charming movement of +confidence one nestled to the side of the other and resting her head +looked up and laughed. The taller embraced her with her arm and held +her for a moment. The swiftness of the act and its grace were +beautiful to see. Then hand in hand they ran to others who were a +little further off. The elder and taller had a wild dark face with +stern lips, like a man's; the younger was a beautiful little creature +with quick, squirrel's motions. I remember her hair, which looked +white in that light, but was no doubt lint colour. It was extremely +long, and so fine that it clung to her shoulders and back like a web +of thin silk. + +[Footnote 2: I argue from this peculiar manner of greeting, which I +have observed several times, that these beings converse by contact, as +dogs, cats, mice, and other creatures certainly do. I don't say that +they have no other means of converse; but I am sure I am exact in +saying that they have no articulate speech.] + +They began to play very soon with a zest for mere irresponsible +movement which I have never seen in my own kind. I have seen young +foxes playing, and it was something like that, only incomparably more +graceful. Greyhounds give a better comparison where the rippling of +the body is more expressive of their speed than the flying of their +feet. These creatures must have touched the earth, but their bodies +also ran. And just as young dogs play for the sake of activity, +without method or purpose, so did these; and just as with young +animals the sexes mingle without any hint of sexuality, so did these. +If there was love-making I saw nothing of it there. They met on exact +equality so far as I could judge, the male not desirous, the female +not conscious of being desired. + +But it was a mad business under the cloudy moon. It had a dream-like +element of riot and wild triumph. I suppose I must have been there for +two or three hours, during all which time their swift play was never +altogether stopped. There were interludes to be seen, when some three +or four grew suddenly tired and fell out. They threw themselves down +on the sward and lay panting, beaming, watching the others, or they +disappeared into the dark and were lost in the thickets which dot the +ground. Then finally I saw the great whirling ring of them form--under +what common impulse to frenzy I cannot divine. There was no signal, +no preparation, but as if fired in unison they joined hands, and +spreading out to a circumference so wide that I could distinguish +nothing but a ring of light, they whirled faster and faster till the +speed of them sang in my ears like harps, and whirling so, melted +away. + +Later on and in wilder surroundings than this I saw, and shall relate +in its place, a dance of Oreads. It differed in detail from this one, +but not, I think, in any essential. This was my first experience of +the kind. + + + + +QUIDNUNC + + +I was so fired by that extraordinary adventure, that I think I could +have overcome my constitutional timidity and made myself acquainted +with the only actor in it who was accessible if I had not become +involved in another matter of the sort. But I don't know that I should +have helped myself thereby. To the night the things of the night +pertain. If I could have had speech with Mrs. Ventris in that season +of her radiancy there would have been no harm; but by day she was +another creature. Thereby contact was impossible because it would have +been horrible. It is true that a certain candour of conduct +distinguished her from the frowsy drabs with whom she must have +jostled in public-house bars or rubbed elbows at lodging-house doors, +a sort of unconsciousness of evil, which I take to have been due to an +entire absence of a moral sense. It is probable that she was not a +miserable sinner because she did not know what was miserable sin. Heat +and cold she knew, hunger and thirst, rage and kindness. She could not +be unwomanly because she was not woman, nor good because she could +not be bad. But I could have been very bad; and to me she was, +luckily, horrible. I could not divorce her two apparent natures, still +less my own. We are bound--all of us--by our natures, bound by them +and bounded. I could not have touched the pitch she lived with, the +pitch of which she was, without defilement. Let me hope that I +realised that much. I shall not say how my feet burned to enter that +slum of squalor where hovered this bird of the night, unless I add, as +I can do with truth, that I did not slake them there. I saw her on and +off afterward for a year, perhaps; but tenancies are short in London. +There was a flitting during one autumn when I was away on vacation, +and I came back to see new faces in the half-doorway and other elbows +on the familiar ledge. + +But as I have said above, a new affair engrossed me shortly after my +night pageant on Parliament Hill. This was concerned with a famous +personage whom all knowing London (though I for one had not known it) +called Quidnunc. + +But before I present to the curious reader the facts of a case which +caused so much commotion in distinguished bosoms of the late +"eighties," I think I should say that, while I have a strong +conviction as to the identity of the person himself, I shall not +express it. I accept the doctrine that there are some names not to be +uttered. Similarly I shall neither defend nor extenuate; if I throw it +out at all it will be as a hint to the judicious, or a clew, if you +like, to those who are groping a way in or out of the labyrinth of +Being. To me two things are especially absurd: one is that the +trousered, or skirted, forms we eat with, walk with, or pass unheeded, +are all the population of our world; the other, that these creatures, +ostensibly men or women with fancies, hopes, fears, appetites like our +own, are necessarily of the same nature as ourselves. If beings from +another sphere should, by intention or chance, meet and mingle with +us, I don't see how we could apprehend them at all except in our own +mode, or unless they were, so to speak, translated into our idiom. But +enough of that. The year in which I first met Quidnunc, so far as my +memory serves me, was 1886. + + * * * * * + +I was in those days a student of the law, with chambers in Gray's Inn +which I daily attended; but being more interested in palæography than +in modern practice, and intending to make that my particular branch of +effort, I spent much of my time at the Public Record Office; indeed, a +portion of every working day. The track between R---- Buildings and +Rolls Yard must have been sensibly thinned by my foot-soles; there +can have been few of the frequenters of Chancery Lane, Bedford Row and +the squares of Gray's Inn who were not known to me by sight or +concerning whom I had not imagined (or discerned) circumstances +invisible to their friends or themselves to account for their acts or +appearances. Among these innumerable personages--portly solicitors, +dashing clerks, scriveners, racing tipsters, match-sellers, postmen, +young ladies of business, young ladies of pleasure, clients descending +out of broughams, clients keeping rendezvous in public-houses, and +what not--Quidnunc's may well have been one; but I believe that it was +in Warwick Court (that passage from Holborn into the Inn) that, quite +suddenly, I first saw him, or became aware that I saw him; for being, +as he was, to all appearance an ordinary telegraphic messenger, I may +have passed him daily for a year without any kind of notice. But on a +day in the early spring of 1886--mid-April at a guess--I came upon him +in such a way as to remark him incurably. I saw before me on that +morning of tender leafage, of pale sunlight and blue mist contending +for the day, a strangely assorted pair proceeding slowly toward the +Inn. A telegraph boy was one; by his side walked, vehemently +explaining, a tall, elderly solicitor--white-whiskered, drab-spatted, +frock-coated, eye-glassed, silk-hatted--in every detail the trusted +family lawyer. I knew the man by sight, and I knew him by name and +repute. He was, let me say--for I withhold his real name--George +Lumley Fowkes, of Fowkes, Vizard and Fowkes, respectable head of a +more than respectable firm; and here he was, with his hat pushed back +from his dewy forehead, tip-toeing, protesting, extenuating to a slip +of a lad in uniform. The positions of the odd pair were unaccountably +reversed; Jack was better than his master, the deference was from the +elder to the brat. The stoop of Fowkes's shoulder, the anxious angle +of his head, his care to listen to the little he got--and how little +that was I could not but observe--his frequent ejaculations of "God +bless my soul!" his deep concern--and the boy's unconcern, curtly +expressed, if expressed at all--all this was singular. So much more +than singular was it to myself that it enthralled me. + +They stopped at the gateway which admits you to Bedford Row to finish +their colloquy. The halt was made by Fowkes, barely acquiesced in by +his companion. Poor old Fowkes, what with his asthma, the mopping of +his head, the flacking of his long fingers, exhibited signals of the +highest distress. "I need hardly assure you, sir ..." I heard; and +then, "Believe me, sir, when I say...." He was marking time, unhappy +gentleman, for with such phrases does the orator eke out his waning +substance. The lad listened in a critical, staring mood, and once or +twice nodded. While I was wondering how long he was going to put up +with it, presently he jerked his head back and showed Fowkes, by the +look he gave him, that he had had enough of him. The old lawyer knew +it for final, for he straightened his back, then his hat, touched the +brim and made a formal bow. "I leave it so, sir," he said; "I am +content to leave it so;" and then, with every mark of respect, he went +his way into Bedford Row. I noticed that he walked on tiptoe for some +yards, and then more quickly, flapping his arms to his sides. + +The boy stood thoughtful where he was, communing by the looks of him +quite otherwhere, and I had the opportunity to consider him. He +appeared to be a handsome, well-built lad of fifteen or so, big for +his age, and precocious. By that I mean that his scrutiny of life was +mature; that he looked capable, far beyond the warrant of his years. +He was ruddy of complexion, freckled, and had a square chin. His eyes +were light grey, with dark lashes to them; they were startlingly light +and bright for such a sunburnt face, and seemed to glow in it like +steady fires. It was in them that resided, that sat, as it were, +enthroned, that mature, masterful expression which I never saw before +or since in one so young. I have seen the eyes of children look as if +they were searching through our world into another; that is almost +habitual in children. But here was one, apparently a boy, who seemed +to read into our circumstances (as you or I into a well-studied book) +as though they held nothing inexplicable, nothing unaccounted for. +Beyond these singular two eyes of his, his smiling mouth, with its +reminder of archaic statuary, was perhaps his only noticeable feature. +He wore the ordinary uniform of a telegraphic messenger, which in +those days was grey, with a red line down the trousers and a belt for +the tunic. His boots were of the service pattern, so were his +ankle-jacks. His hands were not cleaner than they ought to have been, +his nails well bitten back. Such was he. + +Studying him closely over the top of my newspaper, by-and-by he fixed +me with his intent, bright eyes. My heart beat quicker; but when he +smiled--like the Pallas of Ægina--I smiled too. Then, without varying +his expression, even while he smiled upon me, he vanished. + +Vanished! There's no other word for it: he vanished; I did not see him +go; I don't know whether he went or where he went. At one moment he +was there, smiling at me, looking into my eyes; at the next moment he +was not there. That's all there is to say about it. I flashed a +glance through the gate into Bedford Row, another up to R---- +Buildings, and even ran to the corner which showed me the length and +breadth of Field Place. He was not gone any of these ways. These +things are certain. + +Now for the sequel. Mere fortune led me at four that afternoon into +Bedford Row. A note had been put into my hands at the Record Office +inviting me to call upon a client whose chambers were in that quarter, +and I complied with it directly my work was over. Now as I walked +along the Row, the boy of that morning's encounter was going into the +entry of the house in which Fowkes and Vizards have their offices. I +had just time to recognise him when the double knock announced his +errand. I stopped immediately; he delivered in a telegram and came +out. I was on the step. Whether he knew me or not he did not look his +knowledge. His eyes went through me, his smiling mouth did not smile +at me. My heart beat, I didn't know why; but I laughed and nodded. He +went his leisurely way and I watched him, this time, almost out of +sight. But while I stood so, watching, old Fowkes came bursting out of +his office, tears streaming down his face, the telegram in his hand. +"Where is he? Where is he?" This was addressed to me. I pointed the +way. Old Fowkes saw his benefactor (as I suppose him to have been) +and began to run. The lad turned round, saw him coming, waved him +away, and then--disappeared. Again he had done it; but old Fowkes, in +no way surprised, stood rooted to the pavement with his hands extended +so far toward the mystery that I could see two or three inches of bony +old wrist beyond his shirt-cuffs. After a while he turned and slowly +came back to his chambers. He seemed now not to see me; or he was +careless whether I saw him or not. As he entered the doorway he held +up the telegram, bent his head and laid a kiss upon the pink paper. + +But that is by no means all. Now I come, to the Richborough story, +which all London that is as old as I am remembers. That part of +London, it may be, will not read this book; or if it does, will not +object to the recall of a case which absorbed it in 1886-87. I am not +going to be indiscreet. The lady married, and the lady left England. +Moreover, naturally, I give no names; but if I did I don't see that +there is anything to be ashamed of in what she was pleased to do with +her hand and person. It was startling to us of those days, it might be +startling in these; what was more than startling was the manner in +which the thing was done. That is known to very few persons indeed. + +I had seen enough upon that April day, whose events form my prelude, +to give me remembrance of the handsome telegraph boy. The next time I +saw him, which was near midnight in July--the place Hyde Park--I knew +him at once. + +I had been sharing in Prince's Gate, with a dull company, an +interminable dinner, one of those at which you eat twice as much as +you intend, or desire, because there is really nothing else to do. On +one side of me I had had a dowager whom I entirely failed to interest, +on the other, a young person who only cared to talk with her left-hand +neighbour. There was a reception afterward to which I had to stop, so +that I could not make my escape till eleven or more. The night was +very hot and it had been raining; but such air as there was was balm +after the still furnace of the rooms. I decided immediately to walk to +my lodging in Camden Town, entered by Prince's Gate, crossed the +Serpentine Bridge and took a bee-line for the Marble Arch. It was +cloudy, but not at all dark. I could see all the ankle-high railings +which beset the unwary passenger and may at any moment break his legs +and his nose, imperil his dignity and ruin his hat. Dimly ahead of me, +upon a broad stretch of grass, I presently became aware of a +concourse. There was no sound to go by, and the light afforded me no +definite forms; the luminous haze was blurred; but certainly people +were there, a multitude of people. I was surprised, but not alarmed. +Save for an occasional wastrel of civilisation, incapable of +degradation and concerned only for sleep, the park is wont to be a +desert at that hour; but the hum of the traffic, the flashing cab +lamps, never quite out of sight, prevent fear. Far from being afraid I +was highly interested, and hastening my steps was soon on the +outskirts of a throng. + +A throng it certainly was, a large body of persons, male and female, +scattered yet held together by a common interest, loitering and +expectant, strangely silent, not concerned with each other, rarely in +couples, with all their faces turned one way--namely, to the +south-east, or (if you want precision) precisely to Hyde Park Corner. +I have remarked upon the silence: that was really surprising; so also +was the order observed, and what you may call decorum. There was no +ribaldry, no skylarking, no shrill discord of laughter without mirth +in it to break the solemnity of the gracious night. These people just +stood or squatted about; if any talked together it was in secret +whispers. It is true that they were under the watch of a tall +policeman; yet he too, I noticed, watched nobody, but looked steadily +to the south-east, with his lantern harmless at his belt. As my eyes +grew used to the gloom I observed that all ranks composed the +company. I made out the shell jacket, the waist and elongated limbs of +a life-guardsman, the open bosom of an able seaman. I happened upon a +young gentleman in the crush hat and Inverness of the current fashion; +I made certain of a woman of the pavement and of ladies of the +boudoir, of a hospital nurse, of a Greenwich pensioner, of two +flower-girls sitting on the edge of one basket, of a shoeblack (I +think), of a costermonger, and a nun. Others there were, and more than +one or two of most categories: in a word, there was an assembly. + +I accosted the policeman, who heard me civilly but without committing +himself. To my first question, what was going to happen? he carefully +answered that he couldn't say, but to my second, with the +irrepressible scorn of one who knows for one who wants to know, he +answered more frankly, "Who are they waiting for? Why, Quidnunc. +Mister Quidnunc. That's who it is. Him they call Quidnunc. So now you +know." In fact, I did not know. He had told me nothing, would tell me +no more, and while I stood pondering the oracle I was sensible of some +common movement run through the company with a thrill, unite them, +intensify them, draw them together to be one people with one faith, +one hope, one assurance. And then the nun, who stood near me, fell to +her knees, crossed herself and began to pray; and not far off her a +slim girl in black turned aside and covered her face with her hands. A +perceptible shiver of emotion, a fluttering sigh such as steals over a +pine-wood toward dawn ran through all ranks. Far to the south-east a +speck of light now showed, which grew in intensity as it came swiftly +nearer, and seemed presently to be a ball of vivid fire surrounded by +a shroud of lit vapour. Again, as by a common consent, the crowd +parted, stood ranked, with an open lane between. The on-coming flare, +grown intolerably bright, now seemed to fade out as it resolved itself +into a human figure. A human figure at the entry of the lane of people +there undoubtedly was, a figure with so much light about him, raying +(I thought) from him, that it was easy to observe his form and +features. Out of the flame and radiant mist he grew, and showed +himself to me in the trim shape and semblance, with the small head and +alert air of a youth; and such as he was, in the belted tunic and +peaked cap of a telegraph messenger, he came smoothly down the lane +formed by the obsequious throng, and stood in the midst of it and +looked keenly, with his cold, clear eyes and fixed and inscrutable +smile, from one expectant face to another. There was no mistaking him +whom all those people so eagerly awaited; he was my former wonder of +Gray's Inn, the saviour of old Mr. Fowkes. + +But all my former wonder paled before this my latter. For he stood +here like some young Eastern king among his slaves, one hand on his +hip, the other at his chin, his face expressionless, his eyes fixed +but unblinking. Meantime, the crowd, which had stretched out arms to +him as he came, was now seated quietly on the grass, intently waiting, +watching for a sign. They sat, all those people, in a wide ring about +him; he was in the midst, a hand to his chin. + +Whether sign was made or not, I saw none; but after some moments of +pause a figure rose erect out of the ring and hobbled toward the boy. +I made out an old woman, an old wreck of womanhood, a scant-haired, +blue-lipped ruin of what had once been woman. I heard her snivel and +sniff and wheeze her "Lord ha' mercy" as she went by, slippering +forward on her miserable feet, hugging to her wasted sides what +remnant of gown she had, fawning before the boy, within the sphere of +light that came from him. If he loathed, or scorned, or pitied her, he +showed no sign; if he saw her at all his fixed eyes looked beyond her; +if he abhorred her, his nostrils did not betray him. He stood like +marble and suffered what followed. It was strange. + +Enacting what seemed to be a proper rite, she put her shaking left +hand upon his right shoulder, her right hand under his chin, as if to +cup it; and then, with sniffs and wailings interspersed, came her +petition to his merciful ears. + +What she precisely asked of him, muttering, wheezing, whining, +snivelling, as she did, repeating herself--with her burthen of "O +dear, O dear, O dear!"--I don't know. Her lost girl, her fine +up-standing girl, her Nance, her only one, figured in it as needing +mercy. Her "Oh, sir, I ask you kindly!" and "Oh, sir, for this once ...!" +made me sick: yet he bore with her as she ran on, dribbling +tears and gin in a mingled flood; he bore with her, heard her in +silence, and in the end, by a look which I was not able to discover, +quieted and sent her shuffling back to her place. So soon as she was +down, the life-guardsman was on his feet, a fine figure of a man. He +marched unfalteringly up, stiffened, saluted, and then, observing the +ritual of hand to shoulder, hand to chin, spoke out his piece like the +honest fellow he was; spoke it aloud and without fear, evenly and +plainly. I thought that he had got it by heart, as I thought also of +another person I was to hear by-and-by. He wanted, badly it seemed, +news of his sweetheart, whom he was careful to call Miss Dixon. She +had last been heard of outside the Brixton Bon Marché, where she had +been seen with a lady friend, talking to "two young chaps" in +Volunteer uniform. They went up the Brixton Road toward Acre Lane, and +Miss Dixon, at any rate, was never heard of again. It was wearing him +out; he wasn't the man he had been, and had no zest for his meals. She +had never written; his letters to her had come back through the "Dead +Office." He thought he should go out of his mind sometimes; was afraid +to shave, not knowing what he might be after with "them things." If +anything could be done for him he should be thankful. Miss Dixon was +very well connected, and sang in a choir. Here he stopped, saluted, +turned and marched away into the night. I heard him pass a word or two +to the policeman, who turned aside and blew his nose. The hospital +nurse, who spoke in a feverish whisper, then a young woman from the +Piccadilly gas-lamps, who cried and rocked herself about, followed; +and then, to my extreme amazement, two ladies with cloaks and hoods +over evening gowns--one of them a Mrs. Stanhope, who was known to me. +The taller and younger lady, chaperoned by my friend, I did not +recognise. Her face was hidden by her hood. + +I was now more than interested, it seemed to me that I was, in a +sense, implicated. At any rate I felt very delicate about overhearing +what was to come. It is one thing to become absorbed in a ritual the +like of which, in mid-London, you can never have experienced before, +but quite another thing to listen to the secret desires of a friend in +whose house you may have dined within the month. However--by whatever +casuistries I might have compassed it--I did remain. Let me hope, nay, +let me believe of myself that if the postulant had proved to be my +friend, Mrs. Shrewton Stanhope, herself, I should either have stopped +my ears or immediately retired. + +But Mrs. Stanhope, I saw at once, was no more than _dame de +compagnie_. She stood in mid-ring with bent head and hands clasped +before her while the graceful, hooded girl approached nearer to the +mysterious oracle and fulfilled the formal rites demanded of all who +sought his help. Her ringed left hand was laid upon his right +shoulder, her fair right hand upheld his chin. When she began to +speak, which she did immediately and without a tremor, again I had the +sensation of hearing one who had words by heart. This was her burden, +more or less. "I am very unhappy about a certain person. It is Captain +Maxfield. I am engaged to him, and want to break it off. I must do +that--I must indeed. If I don't I shall do a more dreadful thing. I do +hope you will help me. Mrs. ----, my friend, was sure that you would. I +do hope so. I am very unhappy." She had commanded her voice until the +very end; but as she pitied herself there came a break in it. I heard +her catch her breath; I thought she would fall,--and so did Mrs. +Stanhope, it was clear, for she went hurriedly forward and put an arm +round her waist. The younger lady drooped to her shoulder; Mrs. +Stanhope inclined her head to the person--not a sign from him, mind +you--and gently withdrew her charge from the ring. The pair then +hurried across the park in the direction of Knightsbridge, and left +me, I may admit, consuming in the fire of curiosity and excitement +which they had lit. + +Petitions succeeded, of various interest, but they seemed pale and +ineffectual to me. Before all or nearly all of the waiting throng had +been heard I saw uneasiness spread about it. Face turned to face, head +to head; subtle but unmistakable movements indicated unrest. Then, of +the suddenest, amid lifted hands and sighed-forth prayers the youthful +object of so much entreaty, receiver of so many secret sorrows, seemed +to fade and, without effort, to recede. I know not how else to +describe his departure. He backed away, as it were, into the dark. The +people were on their feet ere this. Sighs, wailing, appeals, sobs, +adjurations broke the quietness of the night. Some ran stumbling after +him with extended arms; most of them stayed where they were, watching +him fade, hoping against hope. He emptied himself, so to speak, of +light; he faded backward, diminishing himself to a luminous glow, to a +blur, to a point of light. Thus he was gone. The disappointed crept +silently away, each into silence, solitude and the night, and I found +myself alone with the policeman. + +Now, what in the name of God was all this? I asked him, and must have +it. He gave me some particulars, admitting at the outset that it was a +"go." "They seem to think," he said, "that they will get what they +want out of him--by wire. Let him bring them a wire in the morning; +that's the way of it. Anything in life, from sudden death to a +penn'orth of bird-seed. Death! Ah, I've heard 'em cringe to him for +death, times and again. They crawl for it--they must have it. Can't do +it theirselves, d'ye see? No, no. Let him do it--somehow. Once a week, +during the season--his season, I should say, because he ain't here +always, by no means--they gets about like this; and how they know +where to spot him is more than I can tell you. If I knew it, I +would--but I don't. Nobody knows that--and yet they know it. Sometimes +he's to be found here two weeks running; then it'll be the Regent's +Park, or the Knoll in the Green Park. He's had 'em all the way to +Hampstead before now, and Primrose Hill's a likely place, they tell +me. Telegrams: that's what he gives 'em--if he's got the mind. But +they don't get all they want, not by no means. And some of 'em gets +more than they want, by a lot." He thought, then chuckled at a rather +grim instance. + +"Why, there was old Jack Withers, 'blue-nosed Jack' they calls him, +who works a Hammersmith 'bus! Did you ever hear of that? That was a +good one, if you like. Now you listen. This Jack was coming up the +Brompton Road on his 'bus--and I was on duty by the Boltons and see +him coming. There was that young feller there too--him we've just had +here--standing quiet by a pillar-box, reading a letter. One foot he +had in the roadway, and his back to the 'bus. Up comes old Jack, +pushing his horses, and sees the boy. Gives a great howl like a +tom-cat. 'Hi! you young frog-spawn,' he says, 'out of my road,' and +startled the lad. I see him look up at Jack very steady, and keep his +eye on him. I thought to myself, 'There's something to pay on +delivery, my boy, for this here.' Jack owned up to it afterwards that +he felt queer, but he forgot about it. Now, if you'll believe me, sir, +the very next morning Jack was at London Bridge after his second +journey, when up comes this boy, sauntering into the yard. Comes up to +Jack and nods. 'Name of Withers?' he says. 'That's me,' says old Jack. +'Thought so,' he says. 'Telegram for you.' Jack takes it, opens it, +goes all white. 'Good God!' he says; 'good God Almighty! My wife's +dead!' She'd been knocked down by a Pickford that morning, sure as a +gun. What do you think of that for a start? + +"He served Spotty Smith the fried-eel man just the very same, and lots +more I could tell you about. They call him Quidnunc--Mister Quidnunc, +too, and don't you forget it. There's that about him I--well, sir, if +it was to come to it that I had to lay a hand on him for something out +of Queer Street I shouldn't know how to do it. Now I'm telling you a +fact. I shouldn't--know--how--to--do it." + +He was not, obviously, telling me a fact, but certainly he was much in +earnest. I commented upon the diversity of the company, and so learned +the name of my friend Mrs. Stanhope's friend. He clacked his tongue. +"Bless you," he said, "I've seen better than to-night, though we did +have a slap-up ladyship and all. That was Lady Emily Rich, that young +thing was, Earl of Richborough's family--Grosvenor Place. But we had a +Duchess or something here one night--ah, and a Bishop another, a Lord +Bishop. You'd never believe the tales we hear. He's known to every +night-constable from Woolwich to Putney Bridge--and the company he +gets about him you'd never believe. High and low, and all huddled +together like so many babes in a nursing-home. No distinction. You saw +old Mother Misery get first look-in to-night? My lady waited her turn, +like a good girl!" His voice sank to a whisper. "They tell me he's the +only living soul--if he _is_ a living soul--that's ever been inside +the Stock Exchange and come out tidy. He goes and comes in as he +likes--quite the Little Stranger. They all know him in Throgmorton +Street. No, no. There's more in this than meets the eye, sir. He's not +like you and me. But it's no business of mine. He don't go down in my +pocket-book, I can tell you. I keep out of his way--and with reason. +He never did no harm to me, nor shan't if I can help it. Quidnunc! +Mister Quidnunc! He might be a herald angel for all I know." + +I went my way home and to bed, but was not done with Quidnunc. + +The next day, which was the first day of the Eton and Harrow Match, I +read a short paragraph in the _Echo_, headed "Painful Scene at +Lord's," to the effect that a lady lunching on Lord Richborough's drag +had fainted upon the receipt of a telegram, and would have fallen had +she not been caught by the messenger--"a strongly built youth," it +said, "who thus saved what might have been a serious accident." That +was all, but it gave me food for thought, and a suspicion which +Saturday confirmed in a sufficiently startling way. On that Saturday I +was at luncheon in the First Avenue Hotel in Holborn, when a man came +in--Tendring by name--whom I knew quite well. We exchanged greetings +and sat at our luncheon, talking desultorily. A clerk from his office +brought in a telegram for Tendring. He opened it and seemed +thunder-struck. "Good Lord!" I heard him say. "Good Lord, here's +trouble." I murmured sympathetically, and then he turned to me, quite +beyond the range where reticence avails. "Look here," he said, "this +is a shocking business. A man I know wires to me--from Bow Street. +He's been taken for forgery--that's the charge--and wants me to bail +him out." He got up as we finished and went to write his reply: I +turned immediately to the clerk. "Is the boy waiting?" I asked. He +was. I said "Excuse me, Tendring," and ran out of the restaurant to +the street door. There in the street, as I had suspected, stood my +inscrutable, steady-eyed, smiling Oracle of the night. I stood, +meeting his look as best I might. He showed no recognition of me +whatsoever. Then, as I stood there, Tendring came out. "Call me a +cab," he told the hall-porter; and to Quidnunc he said, "There's no +answer. I'm going at once." Quidnunc went away. + +Now Tendring's friend, I learned by the evening paper, was one Captain +Maxfield of the Royal Engineers. He was committed for trial, bail +refused. I may add that he got seven years. + +So much for Captain Maxfield! But much more for Lady Emily Rich, of +whose fate I have now to tell. My friend, Mrs. Shrewton Stanhope, was +very reserved, would tell me nothing, even when I roundly said that I +had fancied to see her in the park one evening. She had the hardihood +to meet my eyes with a blank denial, and very plainly there was +nothing to be learned from her. A visit, many visits to the London +parks at the hour between eleven and midnight taught me no more; but +being by now thoroughly interested in the affairs of Lady Emily Rich I +made it my business to get a glimpse of her. She was, it seemed, the +only unmarried daughter of the large Richborough family which had done +so well in that sex, and so badly in the other that there was not only +no son, but no male heir to the title. That, indeed, expired with Lady +Emily's father. I don't really know how many daughters there were, or +were not. Most of them married prosperously. One of them became a +Roman princess; one married a Mr. Walker, an American stock-jobber +(with a couple of millions of money); another was Baroness de +Grass--De Grass being a Jew; one became an Anglican nun to the +disgust (I was told) of her family. Lady Emily, whose engagement to +the wretched Maxfield was so dramatically terminated was, I think, the +youngest of them. I saw her one night toward the end of the season at +the Opera. Tendring, who was with me, pointed her out in a box. She +was dressed in black and looked very scared. She hardly moved once +throughout the evening, and when people spoke to her seemed not to +hear. She was certainly a very pretty girl. It may have been fancy, or +it may not, but I could have sworn to the corner of a pinky-brown +envelope sticking out of the bosom of her dress. I don't think I was +mistaken; I had a good look through the glasses. She touched it +shortly afterward and poked it down. At the end I saw her come out. A +tall girl, rather thin; very pretty certainly, but far from well. Her +eyes haunted me; they had what is called a hag-ridden look. And yet, +thought I, she had got her desire of Quidnunc. Ah, but had she? Hear +the end of the tale. + +I say that I saw her come out, that's not quite true. I saw her come +down the staircase and stand with her party in the crowded lobby. She +stood in it, but not of it; for her vague and shadowed eyes sought +otherwhere than in those of the neat-haired young man who was +chattering in front of her. She scanned, rather, the throng of people +anxiously and guardedly at once, as if she was looking for somebody, +and must not be seen to look. As time wore on and the carriage +delayed, her nervousness increased. She seemed to get paler, she shut +her eyes once or twice as though to relieve the strain which watching +and waiting put upon them, and then, quite suddenly, I saw that she +had found what she expected; I saw that her empty eyes were now +filled, that they held something without which they had faded out. In +a word, I saw her look fixedly, fiercely and certainly at something +beyond the lobby. Following the direction she gave me, I looked also. +There, assuredly, in the portico, square, smiling and assured of his +will, I saw Quidnunc stand, and his light eyes upon hers. For quite a +space of time, such as that in which you might count fifteen +deliberately, those two looked at each other. Messages, I am sure, +sped to and fro between them. His seemed to say, "Come, I have +answered you. Now do you answer me." Hers cried her hurt, "Ah, but +what can I do?" His, with their cool mastery of time and occasion, +"You must do as I bid you. There's no other way." Hers pleaded, "Give +me time," and his told her sternly, "I am master of time--since I made +it." The throng of waiting people began to surge toward the door; out +there in the night link-boys yelled great names. I heard "Lord +Richborough's carriage," and saw Lady Emily clap her hand to her side. +I saw her reach the portico and stand there hastily covering her head +with a black scarf; I saw her sway alone there. I saw her party go +down the steps. The next moment Quidnunc flashed to her side. He said +nothing, he did not touch her. He simply looked at her--intently, +smiling, self-possessed, a master. Her face was averted; I could see +her tremble; she bowed her head. Another carriage was announced--the +Richborough coach then was gone. I saw Quidnunc now put his hand upon +her arm; she turned him her face, a faint and tender smile, very +beautiful and touching, met his own. He drew her with him out of the +press and into the burning dark. London never saw her again. + +I don't attempt to explain what is to me inexplicable. Was my +policeman right when he called Quidnunc a herald angel? Is there any +substance behind the surmise that the ancient gods still sway the +souls and bodies of men? Was Quidnunc, that swift, remorseless, +smiling messenger, that god of the winged feet? The Argeïphont? Who +can answer these things? All I have to tell you by way of an epilogue +is this. + +A curate of my acquaintance, a curate of St. Peter's, Eaton Square, +some few years after these events, took his holiday in Greece. He +went out as one of a tourist party, but having more time at his +disposal than was contemplated by the contracting agency, he stayed +on, chartered a dragoman and wandered far and wide. On his return he +told me that he had seen Lady Emily Rich at Pheræ in Arcadia, and that +he had spoken to her. He had seen her sitting on the door-step of a +one-storied white house, spinning flax. She wore the costume of the +peasants, which he told me is very picturesque. Two or three +half-naked children tumbled about her. They were beautiful as angels, +he said, with curly golden hair and extremely light eyes. He noticed +that particularly, and recurred to it more than once. Now Lady Emily +was a dark girl, with eyes so deeply blue as to be almost black. + +My friend spoke to her, he said. He had seen that she recognised him; +in fact, she bowed to him. He felt that he could not disregard her. +Mere commonplaces were exchanged. She told him that her husband was +away on a journey. She fancied that he had been in England; but she +explained half-laughingly that she knew very little about his affairs, +and was quite content to leave them to him. She had her children to +look after. My friend was surprised that she asked no question of +England or family matters; but, in the circumstances, he added, he +hardly liked to refer to them. She served him with bread and wine +before he left her. All he could say was that she appeared to be +perfectly happy. + +It is odd, and perhaps it is more than odd, that there was a famous +temple of Hermes in Pheræ in former times. Pindar, I believe, +acclaimed it in one of his Epinikean odes; but I have not been able to +verify the reference. + + + + +THE SECRET COMMONWEALTH + + +The interest of my matter has caused me to lose sight of myself and to +fail in my account of the flight of time over my head. That is, +however, comparable with the facts, which were that my attention was +then become solely objective. I had other things to think of than the +development of my own nature. I had other things to think of, indeed, +than those which surround us all, and press upon us until we become +permanently printed by their contact. Solitary as I had ever been in +mind, I now became literally so by choice. I became wholly absorbed in +that circumambient world of being which was graciously opening itself +to my perceptions--how I knew not. I was in a state of momentary +expectation of apparitions; as I went about my ostensible business I +had my ears quick and my eyes wide for signs and tokens that I was +surrounded by a seething and whirling invisible population of beings, +like ourselves, but glorified: yet unlike ourselves in this, that what +seemed entirely right, because natural, to them would have been in +ourselves horrible. The ruthlessness, for instance, of Quidnunc as he +pursued and obtained his desire, had Quidnunc been a human creature, +would have been revolting; the shamelessness of the fairy wife of +Ventris had she been capable of shame, how shameful had that been! But +I knew that these creatures were not human; I knew that they were not +under our law; and so I explained everything to myself. But to myself +only. It is not enough to explain a circumstance by negatives. If +Quidnunc and Mrs. Ventris were not under our law, neither are the sun, +moon and stars, neither are the apes and peacocks. But all these are +under some law, since law is the essence of the Kosmos. Under what law +then were Mrs. Ventris and Quidnunc? I burned to know that. For many +years of my life that knowledge was my steady desire; but I had no +means at hand of satisfying it. Reading? Well, I did read in a +fashion. I read, for example, Grimm's _Teutonic Mythology_, a stout +and exceedingly dull work in three volumes of a most unsatisfying +kind. I read other books of the same sort, chiefly German, dealing in +etymology, which I readily allow is a science of great value within +its proper sphere. But to Grimm and his colleagues etymology seemed to +me to be the contents of the casket rather than the key; for Grimm and +his colleagues started with a prejudice, that Gods, fairies and the +rest have never existed and don't exist. To them the interest of the +inquiry is not what is the nature, what are the laws of such beings, +but what is the nature of the primitive people who imagined the +existence of such beings? I very soon found out that Grimm and his +colleagues had nothing to tell me. + +Then there was another class of book; that which dealt in demonology +and witchcraft, exemplified by a famous work called _Satan's Invisible +World Discovered_. Writers of these things may or may not have +believed in witches and fairies (which they classed together); but in +any event they believed them to be wicked, the abomination of +uncleanness. That made them false witnesses. My judgment revolted +against such ridiculous assumptions. Here was a case, you see, where +writers treated their subject too seriously, having the pulpit-cushion +ever below their hand, and the fear of the Ordinary before their +eyes.[3] Grimm and his friends, on the other hand, took it too +lightly, seeing in it matter for a treatise on language. I got no good +out of either school, and as time goes on I don't see a prospect of +any adequate handling of the theme. I should like to think that I +myself was to be the man to expound the fairy-kind candidly and +methodically--candidly, that is, without going to literature for my +data, and with the notion definitely out of mind that the fairy +God-mother ever existed. But I shall never be that man, for though I +am candid to the point of weakness, I am not to flatter myself that I +have method. But to whomsoever he may be that undertakes the subject I +can promise that the documents await their historian, and I will +furnish him with a title which will indicate at a glance both the +spirit of his attack and the nature of his treatise. + +[Footnote 3: The Reverend Robert Kirk, author of the _Secret +Commonwealth_, was a clergyman and a believer in the beings of whom +his book professed to treat. He found them a place in his Pantheon; +but he knew very little about them. I shall have to speak of him again +I expect. He is himself an object-lesson, though his teachings are +naught.] + +"The Natural History of the Præternatural" it should be. I make him a +present of that--the only possible line for a sincere student. God go +with him whosoever he be, for he will have rare qualities and rare +need of them. He must be cheerful without assumption, respectful +without tragic airs, as respectable as he please in the eyes of his +own law, so that he finds respect in his heart also for the laws of +the realm in which he is privileged to trade. Let him not stand, as +the priest in the Orthodox Church, a looming hierophant. Let him avoid +any rhetorical pose, any hint of the grand manner. Above all, let him +not wear the smirk of the conjuror when he prepares with flourishes to +whip the handkerchief away from his guinea-pig. Here is one who +condescends to reader and subject alike. He would do harm all round: +moreover he would be a quack, for he is just as much of a quack who +makes little of much as he who makes much of little. No! Let his +attitude be that of the contadino in some vast church in Italy, who +walking into the cool dark gazes round-eyed at the twinkling candles +ahead of him in the vague, and that he may recover himself a little +leans against a pillar for a while, his hat against his heart and his +lips muttering an Ave. Reassured by his prayer, or the peace of the +great place, he presently espies the sacristan about to uncover a +picture not often shown. Here is an occasion! The tourists are +gathered, intent upon their Baedekers; he tiptoes up behind them and +kneels by another pillar--for the pillars of a church are his friendly +rocks, touching which he can face the unknown. The curtain is brailed +up, and the blue and crimson, the mournful eyes, the wimple, the +pointed chin, the long idle fingers are revealed upon their golden +background. While the girls flock about papa with his book, and mamma +wonders where we shall have luncheon, Annibale, assured familiar of +Heaven, beatified at no expense to himself, settles down to a quiet +talk with the Mother of God. His attitude is perfect, and so is hers. +The firmament is not to be shaken, but Annibale is not a _farceur_, +nor his Blessed One absurd. Mysteries are all about us. Some are for +the eschatologist and some for the shepherd; some for Patmos and some +for the _podere_. Let our historian remember, in fact, that the +natures into which he invites us to pry are those of the little +divinities of earth and he can't go very far wrong. Nor can we. + +That, I am bold to confess, is my own attitude toward a lovely order +of creation. Perhaps I may go on to give him certain hints of +treatment. Nearly all of them, I think, tend to the same point--the +discarding of literature. Literature, being a man's art, is at its +best and also at its worst, in its dealing with women. No man, +perhaps, is capable of writing of women as they really are, though +every man thinks he is. A curious consequence to the history of +fairies has been that literature has recognised no males in that +community, and that of the females it has described it has selected +only those who are enamoured of men or disinclined to them. The fact, +of course, is that the fairy world is peopled very much as our own, +and that, with great respect to Shakespeare, an Ariel, a Puck, a +Titania, a Peas-blossom are abnormal. It is as rare to find a fairy +capable of discerning man as the converse is rare. I have known a +person intensely aware of the Spirits that reside, for instance, in +flowers, in the wind, in rivers and hills, none the less bereft of +any intercourse whatever with these interesting beings by the simple +fact that they themselves were perfectly unconscious of him. It is +greatly to be doubted whether Shakespeare ever saw a fairy, though his +age believed in fairies, but almost certain that Shelley must have +seen many, whose age did not believe. If our author is to have a +poetical guide at all it had better be Shelley. + +Literature will tell him that fairies are benevolent or mischievous, +and tradition, borrowing from literature, will confirm it. The +proposition is ridiculous. It would be as wise to say that a gnat is +mischievous when it stings you, or a bee benevolent because he cannot +prevent you stealing his honey. There would be less talk of benevolent +bees if the gloves were off. That is the pathetic fallacy again; and +that is man all over. Will nothing, I wonder, convince him that he is +not the centre of the Universe? If Darwin, Newton, Galileo, Copernicus +and Sir Norman Lockyer have failed, is it my turn to try? Modesty +forbids. Besides, I am prejudiced. I think man, in the conduct of his +business, inferior to any vegetable. I am a tainted source. But such +talk is idle, and so is that which cries havoc upon fairy morality. +Heaven knows that it differs from our own; but Heaven also knows that +our own differs _inter nos_; and that to discuss the customs and +habits of the Japanese in British parlours is a vain thing. _The +Forsaken Merman_ is a beautiful poem, but not a safe guide to those +who would relate the ways of the spirits of the sea. But all this is +leading me too far from my present affair, which is to relate how the +knowledge of these things--of these beings and of their laws--came +upon me, and how their nature influenced mine. I have said enough, I +think, to establish the necessity of a good book upon the subject, and +I take leave to flatter myself that these pages of my own will be +indispensable Prolegomena to any such work, or to any research tending +to its compilation. + +In the absence of books, in the situation in which I found myself of +reticence, I could do nothing but brood upon the things I had seen. +Insensibly my imagination (latent while I had been occupied with +observation) began to work. I did not write, but I pictured, and my +waking dreams became so vivid that I was in a fair way to treat them +as the only reality, and might have discarded the workaday world +altogether. Luckily for me, my disposition was tractable and +law-abiding. I fulfilled by habit the duties of the day; I toiled at +my dreary work, ate and slept, wrote to my parents, visited them, +having got those tasks as it were by heart, but I went through the +rites like an automaton; my mind was elsewhere, intensely dogging the +heels of that winged steed, my fancy, panting in its tracks, and +perfectly content so only that it did not come up too late to witness +the glories which its bold flights discovered. Thanks to it--all +thanks to it--I did not become a nympholept. I did not haunt +Parliament Hill o' nights. I did not spy upon the darkling motions of +Mrs. Ventris. Desire, appetite, sex were not involved at all in this +affair; nor yet was love. I was very prone to love, but I did not love +Mrs. Ventris. In whatsoever fairy being I had seen there had been +nothing which held physical attraction for me. There could be no +allure when there was no lure. So far as I could tell, not one of +these creatures--except Quidnunc, and possibly the Dryad, the sun-dyed +nymph I had seen long ago in K---- Park--had been aware of my +presence. I guessed, though I did not know (as I do now) that +manifestation is not always mutual, but that a man may see a fairy +without being seen, and conversely, a fairy may be fully aware of +mankind or of some man or men without any suspicion of theirs. +Moreover, though I saw them all extraordinarily beautiful, I had never +yet seen one supremely desirable. The instinct to possess, which is an +essential part of the love-passion of every man--had never stirred in +me in the presence of these creatures. If it had I should have +yielded to it, I doubt not, since there was no moral law to hold me +back. But it never had, so far, and I was safe from the wasting misery +of seeking that which could not, from its very nature (and mine) be +sought. + +There was really nothing I could do, therefore, but wait, and that is +what I did. I waited intensely, very much as a terrier waits at the +hole of the bolting rabbit. By the merest accident I got a clew to a +very interesting case which added enormously to my knowledge. It was a +clear case of fairy child-theft, the clearest I ever met with. I shall +devote a chapter to it, having been at the pains to verify it in all +particulars. I did not succeed in meeting the hero, or victim of it, +because, though the events related took place in 1887, they were not +recorded until 1892, when the record came into my hands. By that time +the two persons concerned had left the country and were settled in +Florida. I did see Mr. Walsh, the Nonconformist Minister who +communicated the tale to his local society, but he was both a dull and +a cautious man, and had very little to tell me. He had himself seen +nothing, he only had Beckwith's word to go upon and did not feel +certain that the whole affair was not an hallucination on the young +man's part. That the child had disappeared was certain, that both +parents were equally distressed is certain. Not a shred of suspicion +attached to the unhappy Beckwith. But Mr. Walsh told me that he felt +the loss so keenly and blamed himself so severely, though +unreasonably, to my thinking, that it would have been impossible for +him to remain in England. He said that the full statement communicated +to the Field Club was considered by the young man in the light of a +confession of his share in the tragedy. It would, he said, have been +exorbitant to expect more of him. And I quite agree with him; and now +had better give the story as I found it. + + + + +BECKWITH'S CASE + + +The facts were as follows. Mr. Stephen Mortimer Beckwith was a young +man living at Wishford in the Amesbury district of Wiltshire. He was a +clerk in the Wilts and Dorset Bank at Salisbury, was married and had +one child. His age at the time of the experience here related was +twenty-eight. His health was excellent. + +On the 30th November, 1887, at about ten o'clock at night, he was +returning home from Amesbury where he had been spending the evening at +a friend's house. The weather was mild, with a rain-bearing wind +blowing in squalls from the south-west. It was three-quarter moon that +night, and although the sky was frequently overcast it was at no time +dark. Mr. Beckwith, who was riding a bicycle and accompanied by his +fox-terrier Strap, states that he had no difficulty in seeing and +avoiding the stones cast down at intervals by the road-menders; that +flocks of sheep in the hollows were very visible, and that, passing +Wilsford House, he saw a barn owl quite plainly and remarked its +heavy, uneven flight. + +A mile beyond Wilsford House, Strap, the dog, broke through the +quick-set hedge upon his right-hand side and ran yelping up the down, +which rises sharply just there. Mr. Beckwith, who imagined that he was +after a hare, whistled him in, presently calling him sharply, "Strap, +Strap, come out of it." The dog took no notice, but ran directly to a +clump of gorse and bramble half-way up the down, and stood there in +the attitude of a pointer, with uplifted paw, watching the gorse +intently, and whining. Mr. Beckwith was by this time dismounted, +observing the dog. He watched him for some minutes from the road. The +moon was bright, the sky at the moment free from cloud. + +He himself could see nothing in the gorse, though the dog was +undoubtedly in a high state of excitement. It made frequent rushes +forward, but stopped short of the object that it saw and trembled. It +did not bark outright but rather whimpered--"a curious, shuddering, +crying noise," says Mr. Beckwith. Interested by the animal's +persistent and singular behaviour, he now sought a gap in the hedge, +went through on to the down, and approached the clumped bushes. Strap +was so much occupied that he barely noticed his master's coming; it +seemed as if he dared not take his eyes for one second from what he +saw in there. + +Beckwith, standing behind the dog, looked into the gorse. From the +distance at which he still stood he could see nothing at all. His +belief then was that there was either a tramp in a drunken sleep, +possibly two tramps, or a hare caught in a wire, or possibly even a +fox. Having no stick with him he did not care, at first, to go any +nearer, and contented himself with urging on his terrier. This was not +very courageous of him, as he admits, and was quite unsuccessful. No +verbal excitations would draw Strap nearer to the furze-bush. Finally +the dog threw up his head, showed his master the white arcs of his +eyes and fairly howled at the moon. At this dismal sound Mr. Beckwith +owned himself alarmed. It was, as he describes it--though he is an +Englishman--"uncanny." The time, he owns, the aspect of the night, +loneliness of the spot (midway up the steep slope of a chalk down), +the mysterious shroud of darkness upon shadowed and distant objects +and flood of white light upon the foreground--all these circumstances +worked upon his imagination. + +He was indeed for retreat; but here Strap was of a different mind. +Nothing would excite him to advance, but nothing either could induce +him to retire. Whatever he saw in the furze-bush Strap must continue +to observe. In the face of this Beckwith summoned up his courage, took +it in both hands and went much nearer to the furze-bushes, much +nearer, that is, than Strap the terrier could bring himself to go. +Then, he tells us, he did see a pair of bright eyes far in the +thicket, which seemed to be fixed upon his, and by degrees also a pale +and troubled face. Here, then, was neither fox nor drunken tramp, but +some human creature, man, woman, or child, fully aware of him and of +the dog. + +Beckwith, who now had surer command of his feelings, spoke aloud +asking, "What are you doing there? What's the matter?" He had no +reply. He went one pace nearer, being still on his guard, and spoke +again. "I won't hurt you," he said. "Tell me what the matter is." The +eyes remained unwinkingly fixed upon his own. No movement of the +features could be discerned. The face, as he could now make it out, +was very small--"about as big as a big wax doll's," he says, "of a +longish oval, very pale." He adds, "I could see its neck now, no +thicker than my wrist; and where its clothes began. I couldn't see any +arms, for a good reason. I found out afterward that they had been +bound behind its back. I should have said immediately, 'That's a girl +in there,' if it had not been for one or two plain considerations. It +had not the size of what we call a girl, nor the face of what we mean +by a child. It was, in fact, neither fish, flesh, nor fowl. Strap had +known that from the beginning, and now I was of Strap's opinion +myself." + +Advancing with care, a step at a time, Beckwith presently found +himself within touching distance of the creature. He was now standing +with furze half-way up his calves, right above it, stooping to look +closely at it; and as he stooped and moved, now this way, now that, to +get a clearer view, so the crouching thing's eyes gazed up to meet +his, and followed them about, as if safety lay only in that +never-shifting, fixed regard. He had noticed, and states in his +narrative, that Strap had seemed quite unable, in the same way, to +take his eyes off the creature for a single second. + +He could now see that, of whatever nature it might be, it was, in form +and features, most exactly a young woman. The features, for instance, +were regular and fine. He remarks in particular upon the chin. All +about its face, narrowing the oval of it, fell dark glossy curtains of +hair, very straight and glistening with wet. Its garment was cut in a +plain circle round the neck, and short off at the shoulders, leaving +the arms entirely bare. This garment, shift, smock or gown, as he +indifferently calls it, appeared thin, and was found afterward to be +of a grey colour, soft and clinging to the shape. It was made loose, +however, and gathered in at the waist. He could not see the +creature's legs, as they were tucked under her. Her arms, it has been +related, were behind her back. The only other things to be remarked +upon were the strange stillness of one who was plainly suffering, and +might well be alarmed, and appearance of expectancy, a dumb appeal; +what he himself calls rather well "an ignorant sort of impatience, +like that of a sick animal." + +"Come," Beckwith now said, "let me help you up. You will get cold if +you sit here. Give me your hand, will you?" She neither spoke nor +moved; simply continued to search his eyes. Strap, meantime, was still +trembling and whining. But now, when he stooped yet lower to take her +forcibly by the arms, she shrank back a little way and turned her +head, and he saw to his horror that she had a great open wound in the +side of her neck--from which, however, no blood was issuing. Yet it +was clearly a fresh wound, recently made. + +He was greatly shocked. "Good God," he said, "there's been foul play +here," and whipped out his handkerchief. Kneeling, he wound it several +times round her slender throat and knotted it as tightly as he could; +then, without more ado, he took her up in his arms, under the knees +and round the middle, and carried her down the slope to the road. He +describes her as of no weight at all. He says it was "exactly like +carrying an armful of feathers about." "I took her down the hill and +through the hedge at the bottom as if she had been a pillow." + +Here it was that he discovered that her wrists were bound together +behind her back with a kind of plait of thongs so intricate that he +was quite unable to release them. He felt his pockets for his knife, +but could not find it, and then recollected suddenly that he should +have a new one with him, the third prize in a whist tournament in +which he had taken part that evening. He found it wrapped in paper in +his overcoat pocket, with it cut the thongs and set the little +creature free. She immediately responded--the first sign of animation +which she had displayed--by throwing both her arms about his body and +clinging to him in an ecstasy. Holding him so that, as he says, he +felt the shuddering go all through her, she suddenly lowered her head +and touched his wrist with her cheek. He says that instead of being +cold to the touch, "like a fish," as she had seemed to be when he +first took her out of the furze, she was now "as warm as a toast, like +a child." + +So far he had put her down for "a foreigner," convenient term for +defining something which you do not quite understand. She had none of +his language, evidently; she was undersized, some three feet six +inches by the look of her,[4] and yet perfectly proportioned. She was +most curiously dressed in a frock cut to the knee, and actually in +nothing else at all. It left her bare-legged and bare-armed, and was +made, as he puts it himself, of stuff like cobweb: "those dusty, +drooping kind which you put on your finger to stop bleeding." He could +not recognise the web, but was sure that it was neither linen nor +cotton. It seemed to stick to her body wherever it touched a prominent +part: "you could see very well, to say nothing of feeling, that she +was well made and well nourished." She ought, as he judged, to be a +child of five years old, "and a feather-weight at that"; but he felt +certain that she must be "much more like sixteen." It was that, I +gather, which made him suspect her of being something outside +experience. So far, then, it was safe to call her a foreigner: but he +was not yet at the end of his discoveries. + +[Footnote 4: Her exact measurements are stated to have been as +follows: height from crown to sole, 3 feet 5 inches. Round waist, 15 +inches; round bust, 21 inches; round wrist, 3-1/2 inches; round neck, +7-1/2 inches.] + +Heavy footsteps, coming from the direction of Wishford, in due time +proved to be those of Police Constable Gulliver, a neighbour of +Beckwith's and guardian of the peace in his own village. He lifted his +lantern to flash it into the traveller's eyes, and dropped it again +with a pleasant "good evening." + +He added that it was inclined to be showery, which was more than +true, as it was at the moment raining hard. With that, it seems, he +would have passed on. + +But Beckwith, whether smitten by self-consciousness of having been +seen with a young woman in his arms at a suspicious hour of the night +by the village policeman, or bursting perhaps with the importance of +his affair, detained Gulliver. "Just look at this," he said boldly. +"Here's a pretty thing to have found on a lonely road. Foul play +somewhere, I'm afraid," he then exhibited his burden to the lantern +light. + +To his extreme surprise, however, the constable, after exploring the +beam of light and all that it contained for some time in silence, +reached out his hand for the knife which Beckwith still held open. He +looked at it on both sides, examined the handle and gave it back. +"Foul play, Mr. Beckwith?" he said laughing. "Bless you, they use +bigger tools than that. That's just a toy, the like of that. Cut your +hand with it, though, already, I see." He must have noticed the +handkerchief, for as he spoke the light from his lantern shone full +upon the face and neck of the child, or creature, in the young man's +arms, so clearly that, looking down at it, Beckwith himself could see +the clear grey of its intensely watchful eyes, and the very pupils of +them, diminished to specks of black. It was now, therefore, plain to +him that what he held was a foreigner indeed, since the parish +constable was unable to see it. Strap had smelt it, then seen it, and +he, Beckwith, had seen it; but it was invisible to Gulliver. "I felt +now," he says in his narrative, "that something was wrong. I did not +like the idea of taking it into the house; but I intended to make one +more trial before I made up my mind about that. I said good night to +Gulliver, put her on my bicycle and pushed her home. But first of all +I took the handkerchief from her neck and put it in my pocket. There +was no blood upon it, that I could see." + +His wife, as he had expected, was waiting at the gate for him. She +exclaimed, as he had expected, upon the lateness of the hour. Beckwith +stood for a little in the roadway before the house, explaining that +Strap had bolted up the hill and had had to be looked for and fetched +back. While speaking he noticed that Mrs. Beckwith was as insensible +to the creature on the bicycle as Gulliver the constable had been. +Indeed, she went much further to prove herself so than he, for she +actually put her hand upon the handle-bar of the machine, and in order +to do that drove it right through the centre of the girl crouching +there. Beckwith saw that done. "I declare solemnly upon my honour," he +writes, "that it was as if Mary had drilled a hole clean through the +middle of her back. Through gown and skin and bone and all her arm +went; and how it went I don't know. To me it seemed that her hand was +on the handle-bar, while her upper arm, to the elbow, was in between +the girl's shoulders. There was a gap from the elbow downwards where +Mary's arm was inside the body; then from the creature's diaphragm her +lower arm, wrist and hand came out. And all the time we were speaking +the girl's eyes were on my face. I was now quite determined that I +wouldn't have her in the house for a mint of money." + +He put her, finally, in the dog-kennel. Strap, as a favourite, lived +in the house; but he kept a greyhound in the garden, in a kennel +surrounded by a sort of run made of iron poles and galvanised wire. It +was roofed in with wire also, for the convenience of stretching a +tarpaulin in wet weather. Here it was that he bestowed the strange +being rescued from the down. + +It was clever, I think, of Beckwith to infer that what Strap had shown +respect for would be respected by the greyhound, and certainly bold of +him to act upon his inference. However, events proved that he had been +perfectly right. Bran, the greyhound, was interested, highly +interested in his guest. The moment he saw his master he saw what he +was carrying. "Quiet, Bran, quiet there," was a very unnecessary +adjuration. Bran stretched up his head and sniffed, but went no +further; and when Beckwith had placed his burden on the straw inside +the kennel, Bran lay down, as if on guard, outside the opening and put +his muzzle on his forepaws. Again Beckwith noticed that curious +appearance of the eyes which the fox-terrier's had made already. +Bran's eyes were turned upward to show the narrow arcs of white. + +Before he went to bed, he tells us, but not before Mrs. Beckwith had +gone there, he took out a bowl of bread and milk to his patient. Bran +he found to be still stretched out before the entry; the girl was +nestled down in the straw, as if asleep or prepared to be so, with her +face upon her hand. Upon an after-thought he went back for a clean +pocket handkerchief, warm water and a sponge. With these, by the light +of a candle, he washed the wound, dipped the rag in hazeline, and +applied it. This done, he touched the creature's head, nodded a good +night and retired. "She smiled at me very prettily," he says. "That +was the first time she did it." + +There was no blood on the handkerchief which he had removed. + +Early in the morning following upon the adventure Beckwith was out and +about. He wished to verify the overnight experiences in the light of +refreshed intelligence. On approaching the kennel he saw at once that +it had been no dream. There, in fact, was the creature of his +discovery playing with Bran the greyhound, circling sedately about +him, weaving her arms, pointing her toes, arching her graceful neck, +stooping to him, as if inviting him to sport, darting away--"like a +fairy," says Beckwith, "at her magic, dancing in a ring." Bran, he +observed, made no effort to catch her, but crouched rather than sat, +as if ready to spring. He followed her about with his eyes as far as +he could; but when the course of her dance took her immediately behind +him he did not turn his head, but kept his eye fixed as far backward +as he could, against the moment when she should come again into the +scope of his vision. "It seemed as important to him as it had the day +before to Strap to keep her always in his eye. It seemed--and always +seemed so long as I could study them together--intensely important." +Bran's mouth was stretched to "a sort of grin"; occasionally he +panted. When Beckwith entered the kennel and touched the dog (which +took little notice of him) he found him trembling with excitement. His +heart was beating at a great rate. He also drank quantities of water. + +Beckwith, whose narrative, hitherto summarised, I may now quote, tells +us that the creature was indescribably graceful and light-footed. +"You couldn't hear the fall of her foot: you never could. Her dancing +and circling about the cage seemed to be the most important business +of her life; she was always at it, especially in bright weather. I +shouldn't have called it restlessness so much as busyness. It really +seemed to mean more to her than exercise or irritation at confinement. +It was evident also that she was happy when so engaged. She used to +sing. She sang also when she was sitting still with Bran; but not with +such exhilaration. + +"Her eyes were bright--when she was dancing about--with mischief and +devilry. I cannot avoid that word, though it does not describe what I +really mean. She looked wild and outlandish and full of fun, as if she +knew that she was teasing the dog, and yet couldn't help herself. When +you say of a child that he looks wicked, you don't mean it literally; +it is rather a compliment than not. So it was with her and her +wickedness. She did look wicked, there's no mistake--able and willing +to do wickedly; but I am sure she never meant to hurt Bran. They were +always firm friends, though the dog knew very well who was master. + +"When you looked at her you did not think of her height. She was so +complete; as well made as a statuette. I could have spanned her waist +with my two thumbs and middle fingers, and her neck (very nearly) +with one hand. She was pale and inclined to be dusky in complexion, +but not so dark as a gipsy; she had grey eyes, and dark-brown hair, +which she could sit upon if she chose. Her gown you could have sworn +was made of cobweb; I don't know how else to describe it. As I had +suspected, she wore nothing else, for while I was there that first +morning, so soon as the sun came up over the hill she slipped it off +her and stood up dressed in nothing at all. She was a regular little +Venus--that's all I can say. I never could get accustomed to that +weakness of hers for slipping off her frock, though no doubt it was +very absurd. She had no sort of shame in it, so why on earth should I? + +"The food, I ought to mention, had disappeared: the bowl was empty. +But I know now that Bran must have had it. So long as she remained in +the kennel or about my place she never ate anything, nor drank either. +If she had I must have known it, as I used to clean the run out every +morning. I was always particular about that. I used to say that you +couldn't keep dogs too clean. But I tried her, unsuccessfully, with +all sorts of things: flowers, honey, dew--for I had read somewhere +that fairies drink dew and suck honey out of flowers. She used to look +at the little messes I made for her, and when she knew me better +would grimace at them, and look up in my face and laugh at me. + +"I have said that she used to sing sometimes. It was like nothing that +I can describe. Perhaps the wind in the telegraph wire comes nearest +to it, and yet that is an absurd comparison. I could never catch any +words; indeed I did not succeed in learning a single word of her +language. I doubt very much whether they have what we call a +language--I mean the people who are like her, her own people. They +communicate with each other, I fancy, as she did with my dogs, +inarticulately, but with perfect communication and understanding on +either side. When I began to teach her English I noticed that she had +a kind of pity for me, a kind of contempt perhaps is nearer the mark, +that I should be compelled to express myself in so clumsy a way. I am +no philosopher, but I imagine that our need of putting one word after +another may be due to our habit of thinking in sequence. If there is +no such thing as Time in the other world it should not be necessary +there to frame speech in sentences at all. I am sure that Thumbeline +(which was my name for her--I never learned her real name) spoke with +Bran and Strap in flashes which revealed her whole thought at once. So +also they answered her, there's no doubt. So also she contrived to +talk with my little girl, who, although she was four years old and a +great chatterbox, never attempted to say a single word of her own +language to Thumbeline, yet communicated with her by the hour +together. But I did not know anything of this for a month or more, +though it must have begun almost at once. + +"I blame myself for it, myself only. I ought, of course, to have +remembered that children are more likely to see fairies than +grown-ups; but then--why did Florrie keep it all secret? Why did she +not tell her mother, or me, that she had seen a fairy in Bran's +kennel? The child was as open as the day, yet she concealed her +knowledge from both of us without the least difficulty. She seemed the +same careless, laughing child she had always been; one could not have +supposed her to have a care in the world, and yet, for nearly six +months she must have been full of care, having daily secret +intercourse with Thumbeline and keeping her eyes open all the time +lest her mother or I should find her out. Certainly she could have +taught me something in the way of keeping secrets. I know that I kept +mine very badly, and blame myself more than enough for keeping it at +all. God knows what we might have been spared if, on the night I +brought her home, I had told Mary the whole truth! And yet--how could +I have convinced her that she was impaling some one with her arm +while her hand rested on the bar of the bicycle? Is not that an +absurdity on the face of it? Yes, indeed; but the sequel is no +absurdity. That's the terrible fact. + +"I kept Thumbeline in the kennel for the whole winter. She seemed +happy enough there with the dogs, and, of course, she had had Florrie, +too, though I did not find that out until the spring. I don't doubt, +now, that if I had kept her in there altogether she would have been +perfectly contented. + +"The first time I saw Florrie with her I was amazed. It was a Sunday +morning. There was our four-year-old child standing at the wire, +pressing herself against it, and Thumbeline close to her. Their faces +almost touched; their fingers were interlaced; I am certain that they +were speaking to each other in their own fashion, by flashes, without +words. I watched them for a bit; I saw Bran come and sit up on his +haunches and join in. He looked from one to another, and all about; +and then he saw me. + +"Now that is how I know that they were all three in communication; +because, the very next moment, Florrie turned round and ran to me, and +said in her pretty baby-talk, 'Talking to Bran. Florrie talking to +Bran.' If this was wilful deceit it was most accomplished. It could +not have been better done. 'And who else were you talking to, +Florrie?' I said. She fixed her round blue eyes upon me, as if in +wonder, then looked away and said shortly, 'No one else.' And I could +not get her to confess or admit then or at any time afterward that she +had any cognisance at all of the fairy in Bran's kennel, although +their communications were daily, and often lasted for hours at a time. +I don't know that it makes things any better, but I have thought +sometimes that the child believed me to be as insensible to Thumbeline +as her mother was. She can only have believed it at first, of course, +but that may have prompted her to a concealment which she did not +afterwards care to confess to. + +"Be this as it may, Florrie, in fact, behaved with Thumbeline exactly +as the two dogs did. She made no attempt to catch her at her circlings +and wheelings about the kennel, nor to follow her wonderful dances, +nor (in her presence) to imitate them. But she was (like the dogs) +aware of nobody else when under the spell of Thumbeline's personality; +and when she had got to know her she seemed to care for nobody else at +all. I ought, no doubt, to have foreseen that and guarded against it. + +"Thumbeline was extremely attractive. I never saw such eyes as hers, +such mysterious fascination. She was nearly always good-tempered, +nearly always happy; but sometimes she had fits of temper and kept +herself to herself. Nothing then would get her out of the kennel, +where she would lie curled up like an animal with her knees to her +chin and one arm thrown over her face. Bran was always wretched at +these times, and did all he knew to coax her out. He ceased to care +for me or my wife after she came to us, and instead of being wild at +the prospect of his Saturday and Sunday runs, it was hard to get him +along. I had to take him on a lead until we had turned to go home; +then he would set off by himself, in spite of hallooing and scolding, +at a long steady gallop and one would find him waiting crouched at the +gate of his run, and Thumbeline on the ground inside it, with her legs +crossed like a tailor, mocking and teasing him with her wonderful +shining eyes. Only once or twice did I see her worse than sick or +sorry; then she was transported with rage and another person +altogether. She never touched me--and why or how I had offended her I +have no notion[5]--but she buzzed and hovered about me like an angry +bee. She appeared to have wings, which hummed in their furious +movement; she was red in the face, her eyes burned; she grinned at me +and ground her little teeth together. A curious shrill noise came +from her, like the screaming of a gnat or hoverfly; but no words, +never any words. Bran showed me his teeth too, and would not look at +me. It was very odd. + +[Footnote 5: "I have sometimes thought," he adds in a note, "that it +may have been jealousy. My wife had been with me in the garden and had +stuck a daffodil in my coat."] + +"When I looked in, on my return home, she was as merry as usual, and +as affectionate. I think she had no memory. + +"I am trying to give all the particulars I was able to gather from +observation. In some things she was difficult, in others very easy to +teach. For instance, I got her to learn in no time that she ought to +wear her clothes, such as they were, when I was with her. She +certainly preferred to go without them, especially in the sunshine; +but by leaving her the moment she slipped her frock off I soon made +her understand that if she wanted me she must behave herself according +to my notions of behaviour. She got that fixed in her little head, but +even so she used to do her best to hoodwink me. She would slip out one +shoulder when she thought I wasn't looking, and before I knew where I +was half of her would be gleaming in the sun like satin. Directly I +noticed it I used to frown, and then she would pretend to be ashamed +of herself, hang her head, and wriggle her frock up to its place +again. However, I never could teach her to keep her skirts about her +knees. She was as innocent as a baby about that sort of thing. + +"I taught her some English words, and a sentence or two. That was +toward the end of her confinement to the kennel, about March. I used +to touch parts of her, or of myself, or Bran, and peg away at the +names of them. Mouth, eyes, ears, hands, chest, tail, back, front: she +learned all those and more. Eat, drink, laugh, cry, love, kiss, those +also. As for kissing (apart from the word) she proved herself to be an +expert. She kissed me, Florrie, Bran, Strap indifferently, one as soon +as another, and any rather than none, and all four for choice. + +"I learned some things myself, more than a thing or two. I don't mind +owning that one thing was to value my wife's steady and tried +affection far above the wild love of this unbalanced, unearthly little +creature, who seemed to be like nothing so much as a woman with the +conscience left out. The conscience, we believe, is the still small +voice of the Deity crying to us in the dark recesses of the body; +pointing out the path of duty; teaching respect for the opinion of the +world, for tradition, decency and order. It is thanks to conscience +that a man is true and a woman modest. Not that Thumbeline could be +called immodest, unless a baby can be so described, or an animal. But +could I be called 'true'? I greatly fear that I could not--in fact, I +know it too well. I meant no harm; I was greatly interested; and +there was always before me the real difficulty of making Mary +understand that something was in the kennel which she couldn't see. It +would have led to great complications, even if I had persuaded her of +the fact. No doubt she would have insisted on my getting rid of +Thumbeline--but how on earth could I have done that if Thumbeline had +not chosen to go? But for all that I know very well that I ought to +have told her, cost what it might. If I had done it I should have +spared myself lifelong regret, and should only have gone without a few +weeks of extraordinary interest which I now see clearly could not have +been good for me, as not being founded upon any revealed Christian +principle, and most certainly were not worth the price I had to pay +for them. + +"I learned one more curious fact which I must not forget. Nothing +would induce Thumbeline to touch or pass over anything made of +zinc.[6] I don't know the reason of it; but gardeners will tell you +that the way to keep a plant from slugs is to put a zinc collar round +it. It is due to that I was able to keep her in Bran's run without +difficulty. To have got out she would have had to pass zinc. The wire +was all galvanised. + +[Footnote 6: This is a curious thing, unsupported by any other +evidence known to me. I asked Despoina about it, but she would not, or +she did not, answer. She appeared not to understand what zinc was, and +I had none handy.] + +"She showed her dislike of it in numerous ways: one was her care to +avoid touching the sides or top of the enclosure when she was at her +gambols. At such times, when she was at her wildest, she was all over +the place, skipping high like a lamb, twisting like a leveret, +wheeling round and round in circles like a young dog, or skimming, +like a swallow on the wing, above ground. But she never made a +mistake; she turned in a moment or flung herself backward if there was +the least risk of contact. When Florrie used to converse with her from +outside, in that curious silent way the two had, it would always be +the child that put its hands through the wire, never Thumbeline. I +once tried to put her against the roof when I was playing with her. +She screamed like a shot hare and would not come out of the kennel all +day. There was no doubt at all about her feelings for zinc. All other +metals seemed indifferent to her. + +"With the advent of spring weather Thumbeline became not only more +beautiful, but wilder, and exceedingly restless. She now coaxed me to +let her out, and against my judgment I did it; she had to be carried +over the entry; for when I had set the gate wide open and pointed her +the way into the garden she squatted down in her usual attitude of +attention, with her legs crossed, and watched me, waiting. I wanted to +see how she would get through the hateful wire, so went away and hid +myself, leaving her alone with Bran. I saw her creep to the entry and +peer at the wire. What followed was curious. Bran came up wagging his +tail and stood close to her, his side against her head; he looked +down, inviting her to go out with him. Long looks passed between them, +and then Bran stooped his head, she put her arms around his neck, +twined her feet about his foreleg, and was carried out. Then she +became a mad thing, now bird, now moth; high and low, round and round, +flashing about the place for all the world like a humming-bird moth, +perfectly beautiful in her motions (whose ease always surprised me), +and equally so in her colouring of soft grey and dusky-rose flesh. +Bran grew a puppy again and whipped about after her in great circles +round the meadow. But though he was famous at coursing, and has killed +his hares single-handed, he was never once near Thumbeline. It was a +wonderful sight and made me late for business. + +"By degrees she got to be very bold, and taught me boldness too, and +(I am ashamed to say) greater degrees of deceit. She came freely into +the house and played with Florrie up and down stairs; she got on my +knee at meal-times, or evenings when my wife and I were together. Fine +tricks she played me, I must own. She spilled my tea for me, broke +cups and saucers, scattered my Patience cards, caught poor Mary's +knitting wool and rolled it about the room. The cunning little +creature knew that I dared not scold her or make any kind of fuss. She +used to beseech me for forgiveness occasionally when I looked very +glum, and would touch my cheek to make me look at her imploring eyes, +and keep me looking at her till I smiled. Then she would put her arms +round my neck and pull herself up to my level and kiss me, and then +nestle down in my arms and pretend to sleep. By-and-by, when my +attention was called off her, she would pinch me, or tweak my necktie, +and make me look again at her wicked eye peeping out from under my +arm. I had to kiss her again, of course, and at last she might go to +sleep in earnest. She seemed able to sleep at any hour or in any +place, just like an animal. + +"I had some difficulty in arranging for the night when once she had +made herself free of the house. She saw no reason whatever for our +being separated; but I circumvented her by nailing a strip of zinc all +round the door; and I put one round Florrie's too. I pretended to my +wife that it was to keep out draughts. Thumbeline was furious when she +found out how she had been tricked. I think she never quite forgave me +for it. Where she hid herself at night I am not sure. I think on the +sitting-room sofa; but on mild mornings I used to find her out-doors, +playing round Bran's kennel. + +"Strap, our fox-terrier, picked up some rat poison towards the end of +April and died in the night. Thumbeline's way of taking that was very +curious. It shocked me a good deal. She had never been so friendly +with him as with Bran, though certainly more at ease in his company +than in mine. The night before he died I remember that she and Bran +and he had been having high games in the meadow, which had ended by +their all lying down together in a heap, Thumbeline's head on Bran's +flank, and her legs between his. Her arm had been round Strap's neck +in a most loving way. They made quite a picture for a Royal +Academician; 'Tired of Play,' or 'The End of a Romp,' I can fancy he +would call it. Next morning I found poor old Strap stiff and staring, +and Thumbeline and Bran at their games just the same. She actually +jumped over him and all about him as if he had been a lump of earth or +a stone. Just some such thing he was to her; she did not seem able to +realise that there was the cold body of her friend. Bran just sniffed +him over and left him, but Thumbeline showed no consciousness that he +was there at all. I wondered, was this heartlessness or obliquity? But +I have never found the answer to my question.[7] + +[Footnote 7: I have observed this frequently for myself, and can +answer Beckwith's question for him. I would refer the reader in the +first place to my early experience of the boy (to call him so) with +the rabbit in the wood. There was an act of shocking cruelty, done +idly, almost unconsciously. I was not shocked at all, child as I was, +and quickly moved to pity and terror, because I knew that the creature +was not to be judged by our standards. From this and other things of +the sort which I have observed, and from this tale of Beckwith's, I +judge, that, to the fairy kind, directly life ceases to be lived at +the full, the object, be it fairy, or animal, or vegetable, is not +perceived by the other to exist. Thus, if a fairy should die, the +others would not know that its accidents were there; if a rabbit (as +in the case cited) should be caught it would therefore cease to be +rabbit. We ourselves have very much the same habit of regard toward +plant life. Our attitude to a tree or a growing plant ceases the +moment that plant is out of the ground. It is then, as we say, +_dead_--that is, it ceases to be a plant. So also we never scruple to +pluck the flowers, or the whole flower-scape from a plant, to put it +in our buttonhole or in the bosom of our friend, and thereafter to +cease our interest in the plant as such. It now becomes a memory, a +_gage d'amour_, a token or a sudden glory--what you will. This is the +habit of mankind; but I know of rare ones, both men and women, who +never allow dead flowers to be thrown into the draught, but always +give them decent burial, either cremation or earth to earth. I find +that admirable, yet don't condemn their neighbours, nor consider +fairies cruel who torture the living and disregard the maimed or the +dead.] + +"Now I come to the tragical part of my story, and wish with all my +heart that I could leave it out. But beyond the full confession I have +made to my wife, the County Police and the newspapers, I feel that I +should not shrink from any admission that may be called for of how +much I have been to blame. In May, on the 13th of May, Thumbeline, +Bran, and our only child, Florrie, disappeared. + +"It was a day, I remember well, of wonderful beauty. I had left them +all three together in the water meadow, little thinking of what was in +store for us before many hours. Thumbeline had been crowning Florrie +with a wreath of flowers. She had gathered cuckoo-pint and marsh +marigolds and woven them together, far more deftly than any of us +could have done, into a chaplet. I remember the curious winding, +wandering air she had been singing (without any words, as usual) over +her business, and how she touched each flower first with her lips, and +then brushed it lightly across her bosom before she wove it in. She +had kept her eyes on me as she did it, looking up from under her +brows, as if to see whether I knew what she was about. + +"I don't doubt now but that she was bewitching Florrie by this curious +performance, which every flower had to undergo separately; but, fool +that I was, I thought nothing of it at the time, and bicycled off to +Salisbury leaving them there. + +"At noon my poor wife came to me at the Bank distracted with anxiety +and fatigue. She had run most of the way, she gave me to understand. +Her news was that Florrie and Bran could not be found anywhere. She +said that she had gone to the gate of the meadow to call the child in, +and not seeing her, or getting any answer, she had gone down to the +river at the bottom. Here she had found a few picked wild flowers, but +no other traces. There were no footprints in the mud, either of child +or dog. Having spent the morning with some of the neighbours in a +fruitless search, she had now come to me. + +"My heart was like lead, and shame prevented me from telling her the +truth as I was sure it must be. But my own conviction of it clogged +all my efforts. Of what avail could it be to inform the police or +organise search-parties, knowing what I knew only too well? However, I +did put Gulliver in communication with the head-office in Sarum, and +everything possible was done. We explored a circuit of six miles about +Wishford; every fold of the hills, every spinney, every hedgerow was +thoroughly examined. But that first night of grief had broken down my +shame: I told my wife the whole truth in the presence of Reverend +Richard Walsh, the Congregational minister, and in spite of her +absolute incredulity, and, I may add, scorn, next morning I repeated +it to Chief Inspector Notcutt of Salisbury. Particulars got into the +local papers by the following Saturday; and next I had to face the +ordeal of the _Daily Chronicle_, _Daily News_, _Daily Graphic_, +_Star_, and other London journals. Most of these newspapers sent +representatives to lodge in the village, many of them with +photographic cameras. All this hateful notoriety I had brought upon +myself, and did my best to bear like the humble, contrite Christian +which I hope I may say I have become. We found no trace of our dear +one, and never have to this day. Bran, too, had completely vanished. I +have not cared to keep a dog since. + +"Whether my dear wife ever believed my account I cannot be sure. She +has never reproached me for wicked thoughtlessness, that's certain. +Mr. Walsh, our respected pastor, who has been so kind as to read this +paper, told me more than once that he could hardly doubt it. The +Salisbury police made no comments upon it one way or another. My +colleagues at the Bank, out of respect for my grief and sincere +repentance, treated me with a forbearance for which I can never be too +grateful. I need not add that every word of this is absolutely true. I +made notes of the most remarkable characteristics of the being I +called Thumbeline _at the time of remarking them_, and those notes are +still in my possession." + + * * * * * + +Here, with the exception of a few general reflections which are of +little value, Mr. Beckwith's paper ends. It was read, I ought to say, +by the Rev. Richard Walsh at the meeting of the South Wilts Folk-lore +Society and Field Club held at Amesbury in June 1892, and is to be +found in the published transactions of that body (Vol. IV. New Series, +pp. 305 _seq._). + + + + +THE FAIRY WIFE + + +There is nothing surprising in that story, to my mind, but the +reprobation with which Beckwith visits himself. What could he have +done that he did not? How could he have refrained from doing what he +did? Yet there are curious things about it, and one of those is the +partiality of the manifestation. The fairy was visible to him, his +child and his dogs but to no one else. So, in my own experience, had +she been whom I saw in K---- Park, whom Harkness, my companion, did +not see. My explanation of it does not carry me over all the +difficulties. I say, or will repeat if I have said it before, that the +fairy kind are really the spirit, essence, substance (what you will) +of certain sensible things, such as trees, flowers, wind, water, +hills, woods, marshes and the like, that their normal appearance to us +is that of these natural phenomena; but that in certain states of +mind, perhaps in certain conditions of body, there is a relation +established by which we are able to see them on our own terms, as it +were, or in our own idiom, and they also to treat with us to some +extent, to a large extent, on the same plane or standing-ground. That +there are limitations to this relationship is plain already; for +instance, Beckwith was not able to get his fairy prisoner to speak, +and I myself have never had speech with more than one in my life. But +as to that I shall have a very curious case to report shortly, where a +man taught his fairy-wife to speak. + +The mentioning of that undoubted marriage brings me to the question of +sex. There is, of course, not the slightest doubt about it. Mrs. +Ventris was a fairy wife. Mrs. Ventris was a puzzle to me for a good +many years--in fact until Despoina explained to me many things. For +Mrs. Ventris had a permanent human shape, and spoke as freely as you +or I. I thought at one time that she might be the offspring of a mixed +marriage, like Elsie Marks (whose mother, by the way, was another case +of the sort); but in fact Mrs. Ventris and Mrs. Marks were both fairy +wives, and the wood-girl, Mabilla King, whose case I am going to deal +with was another. But this particular relationship is one which my +explanation of fairy apparitions does not really cover: for marriage +implies a permanent accessibility (to put it so) of two normally +inaccessible natures; and parentage implies very much more. That, +indeed, implies what the Christians call Miracle; but it is quite +beyond dispute. I have a great number of cases ready to my hand, and +shall deal at large with all of them in the course of this essay, in +which fairies have had intercourse with mortals. It is by no means the +fact that the wife is always of the fairy-kind. My own experience at +C---- shall prove that. But I must content myself with mentioning the +well-known case of Mary Wellwood who was wife to a carpenter near +Ashby de la Zouche, and was twice taken by a fairy and twice +recovered. She had children in each of her states of being, and on one +recorded occasion her two families met. It appears to be a law that +the wife takes the nature of the husband, or as much of it as she can, +and it is important to remark that _in all cases_ the children are of +the husband's nature, fairy or mortal as he may happen to be. +"Nature," Despoina told me, "follows the male." So far as fairies are +concerned it seems certain that union with mortals runs in families or +clans, if one may so describe their curious relationships to each +other. There were five sisters of the wood in one of the Western +departments of France (Lot-et-Garonne, I think), who all married men: +two of them married two brothers. Apart they led the decorous lives of +the French middle class, but when they were together it was a sight to +see! A curious one, and to us, with our strong associations of ideas, +that tremendous hand which memory has upon our heart-strings, a +poignant one. For they had lost their powers, but not their impulses. +It was a case of _si vieillesse pouvait_. I suppose they may have +appeared to some chance wayfarer, getting a glimpse of them at their +gambols between the poplar stems of the road, or in the vistas of the +hazel-brakes, as a company of sprightly matrons on a frolic. To the +Greeks foolishness! And be sure that such an observer would shrug them +out of mind. My own impression is that these ladies were perfectly +happy, that they had nothing of that _maggior' dolore_ which we +mortals know, and for which our joys have so often to pay. Let us hope +so at any rate, for about a fairy or a growing boy conscious of the +prison-shades could Poe have spun his horrors. + +"To the Greeks foolishness," I said in my haste; but in very truth it +was far from being so. To the Greeks there was nothing extraordinary +in the parentage of a river or the love of a God for a mortal. Nor +should there be to a Christian who accepts the orthodox account of the +foundation of his faith. So far as we know, the generative process of +every created thing is the same; it is, therefore, an allowable +inference that the same process obtains with the created things which +are not sensible to ourselves. If flowers mate and beget as we do, why +not winds and waters, why not gods and nymphs, fauns and fairies? It +is the creative urgency that imports more than the creative matter. To +my mind, _magna componere parvis_, it is my fixed belief that all +created nature known to us is the issue of the mighty love of God for +his first-made creature the Earth. I accept the Greek mythology as the +nearest account of the truth we are likely to get. I have never had +the least difficulty in accepting it; and all I have since found out +of the relations of men with their fellow-creatures of other genera +confirms me in the belief that the urgency is the paramount necessity. + +If I am to deal with a case of a mixed marriage, where the wife was a +fairy, the spirit of a tree, I shall ask leave to set down first a +plain proposition, which is that all Natural Facts (as wind, hills, +lakes, trees, animals, rain, rivers, flowers) have an underlying Idea +or Soul whereby they really are what they appear, to which they owe +the beauty, majesty, pity, terror, love, which they excite in us; and +that this Idea, or Soul, having a real existence of its own in +community with its companions of the same nature, can be discerned by +mortal men in forms which best explain to human intelligence the +passions which they excite in human breasts. This is how I explain the +fact, for instance, that the austerity of a lonely rock at sea will +take the form and semblance, and much more than that, assume the +prerogatives of a brooding man, or that the swift freedom of a river +will pass by, as in a flash, in the coursing limbs of a youth, or that +at dusk, out of a reed-encircled mountain-tarn, silvery under the hush +of the grey hour, there will rise, and gleam, and sink again, the pale +face, the shoulders and breast of the Spirit of the Pool; that, +finally, the grace of a tree, and its panic of fury when lashed by +storm, very capable in either case of inspiring love or horror, will +be revealed rarely in the form of a nymph. There may be a more +rational explanation of these curious things, but I don't know of one: + + _Fortunatus et ille, Deos qui novit agrestes!_ + +Happy may one be in the fairies of our own country. Happy, even yet, +are they who can find the Oreads of the hill, Dryads of the wood, +nymphs of river, marsh, plough-land, pasture, and heath. Now, leaving +to Greece the things that are Greek, here for an apologue follows a +plain recital of facts within the knowledge of every man of the +Cheviots. + + +I + +There is in that country, not far from Otterburn--between Otterburn +and the Scottish border--a remote hamlet consisting of a few white +cottages, farm buildings and a shingle-spired church. It is called +Dryhope, and lies in a close valley, which is watered by a beck or +burn, known as the Dryhope Burn. It is deeply buried in the hills. +Spurs of the Cheviots as these are, they rise to a considerable +elevation, but are pasturable nearly to the top. There, however, where +the heather begins, peat-hags and morasses make dangerous provision, +from which the flocks are carefully guarded. It is the practice of the +country for the shepherds to be within touch of them all night, lest +some, feeding upward (as sheep always do) should reach the summits and +be lost or mired inextricably. These upland stretches, consequently, +are among the most desolate spots to be found in our islands. I have +walked over them myself within recent years and met not a human soul, +nor beast of man's taming. Ravens, curlews, peewits, a lagging fox or +limping hare; such, with the unsensed Spirits of the Earth, will be +your company. In particular I traversed (in 1902) the great upland +called Limmer Fell, and saw the tarn--Silent Water--and the trees +called The Seven Sisters. They are silver birches of remarkable size +and beauty. One of them is fallen. Standing there, looking north-west, +the Knapp may be seen easily, some five miles away; and the extent of +the forest with which it is covered can be estimated. A great and +solemn wood that is, which no borderer will ever enter if he can help +it. + +There was--and may be still--a family of shepherds living in Dryhope +of the name of King. When these things occurred there were alive +George King, a patriarch of seventy-five years, Miranda King, his +daughter-in-law, widow of his son, who was supposed to be a +middle-aged woman, and a young man, Andrew King, her only son. That +was the family; and there was a girl, Bessie Prawle, daughter of a +neighbour, very much in and out of the house, and held by common +report to be betrothed to Andrew. She used to help the widow in +domestic matters, see to the poultry, milk the cow, churn the butter, +press the cheeses. The Kings were independent people, like the +dalesmen of Cumberland, and stood, as the saying is, upon their own +foot-soles. Old King had a tenant-right upon the fell, and owed no man +anything. + +There was said to be a mystery connected with Miranda the widow, who +was a broad-browed, deep-breasted, handsome woman, very dark and +silent. She was not a native of Redesdale, not known to be of +Northumberland. Her husband, who had been a sailor, had brought her +back with him one day, saying that she was his wife and her name +Miranda. He had said no more about her, would say no more, and had +been drowned at sea before his son was born. She, for her part, had +been as uncommunicative as he. Such reticence breeds wonderment in the +minds of such a people as they of Dryhope, and out of wonderment arise +wonders. It was told that until Miranda King was brought in sea-birds +had never been seen in Dryhopedale. It was said that they came on that +very night when George King the younger came home, and she with him, +carrying his bundle and her own. It was said that they had never since +left the hamlet, and that when Miranda went out of doors, which was +seldom, she was followed by clouds of them whichever way she turned. I +have no means of testing the truth of these rumours, but, however it +may be, no scandal was ever brought against her. She was respectable +and respected. Old King, the grandfather, relied strongly upon her +judgment. She brought up her son in decent living and the fear of God. + +In the year when Andrew was nineteen he was a tall, handsome lad, and +a shepherd, following the profession, as he was to inherit the estate, +of his forebears. One April night in that year he and his grandfather, +the pair of them with a collie, lay out on the fell-side together. +Lambing is late in Redesdale, the spring comes late; April is often a +month of snow. + +They had a fire and their cloaks; the ground was dry, and they lay +upon it under a clear sky strewn with stars. At midnight George King, +the grandfather, was asleep, but Andrew was broad awake. He heard the +flock (which he could not see) sweep by him like a storm, the +bell-wether leading, and as they went up the hill the wind began to +blow, a long, steady, following blast. The collie on his feet, ears +set flat on his head, shuddering with excitement, whined for orders. +Andrew, after waking with difficulty his grandfather, was told to go +up and head them off. He sent the dog one way--off in a flash, he +never returned that night--and himself went another. He was not seen +again for two days. To be exact, he set out at midnight on Thursday +the 12th April, and did not return to Dryhope until eleven o'clock of +the morning of Saturday the 14th. The sheep, I may say here, came back +by themselves on the 13th, the intervening day. + +That night of the 12th April is still commemorated in Dryhope as one +of unexampled spring storm, just as a certain October night of the +next year stands yet as the standard of comparison for all equinoctial +gales. The April storm, we hear, was very short and had several +peculiar features. It arose out of a clear sky, blew up a snow-cloud +which did no more than powder the hills, and then continued to blow +furiously out of a clear sky. It was steady but inconceivably strong +while it lasted; the force and pressure of the wind did not vary until +just the end. It came from the south-east, which is the rainy quarter +in Northumberland, but without rain. It blew hard from midnight, until +three o'clock in the morning, and then, for half an hour, a hurricane. +The valley and hamlet escaped as by a miracle. Mr. Robson, the vicar, +awakened by it, heard the wind like thunder overhead and went out of +doors to observe it. He went out into a still, mild air coming from +the north-west, and still heard it roaring like a mad thing high above +him. Its direction, as he judged by sound, was the precise contrary of +the ground current. In the morning, wreckage of all kinds, branches of +trees, roots, and whole clumps of heather strewn about the village and +meadows, while showing that a furious battle had been fought out on +the fells, confirmed this suspicion. A limb of a tree, draped in ivy, +was recognised as part of an old favourite of his walks. The ash from +which it had been torn stood to the south-east of the village. In the +course of the day (the 13th) news was brought in that one of the Seven +Sisters was fallen, and that a clean drive could be seen through the +forest on the top of Knapp. Coupled with these dreadful testimonies +you have the disappearance of Andrew King to help you form your +vision of a village in consternation. + +Hear now what befell young Andrew King when he swiftly climbed the +fell, driven forward by the storm. The facts are that he was agog for +adventure, since, all unknown to any but himself, he had ventured to +the summits before, had stood by Silent Water, touched the Seven +Sisters one by one, and had even entered the dreadful, haunted, forest +of Knapp. He had had a fright, had been smitten by that sudden gripe +of fear which palsies limbs and freezes blood, which the ancients +called the Stroke of Pan, and we still call Panic after them. He had +never forgotten what he had seen, though he had lost the edge of the +fear he had. He was older now by some two years, and only waiting the +opportunity for renewed experience. He hoped to have it--and he had +it. + +The streaming gale drove him forward as a ship at sea. He ran lightly, +without fatigue or troubled breath. Dimly above him he presently saw +the seven trees, dipping and louting to the weather; but as he neared +them they had no meaning for him, did not, indeed, exist. For now he +saw more than they, and otherwise than men see trees. + + +II + +In a mild and steady light, which came from no illumination of moon or +stars, but seemed to be interfused with the air, in the strong warm +wind which wrapped the fell-top; upon a sward of bent-grass which ran +toward the tarn and ended in swept reeds he saw six young women +dancing in a ring. Not to any music that he could hear did they move, +nor was the rhythm of their movement either ordered or wild. It was +not formal dancing, and it was not at all a Bacchic rout: rather they +flitted hither and thither on the turf, now touching hands, now +straining heads to one another, crossing, meeting, parting, winding +about and about with the purposeless and untirable frivolity of moths. +They seemed neither happy nor unhappy, they made no sound; it looked +to the lad as if they had been so drifting from the beginning, and +would so drift to the end of things temporal. Their loose hair +streamed out in the wind, their light gossamer gowns streamed the same +way, whipped about their limbs as close as wet muslin. They were +bare-footed, bare-armed, and bare-headed. They all had beauty, but it +was not of earthly cast. He saw one with hair like pale silk, and one, +ruddy and fierce in the face, with snaky black hair which, he thought, +flew out beyond her for a full yard's measure. Another had +hazel-brown hair and a sharp little peering face; another's was colour +of ripe corn, and another's like a thunder-cloud, copper-tinged. About +and about they went, skimming the tops of the grasses, and Andrew +King, his heart hammering at his ribs, watched them at their play. So +by chance one saw him, and screamed shrilly, and pointed at him. + +Then they came about him like a swarm of bees, angry at first, humming +a note like that of the telegraph wire on a mountain road, but, as he +stood his ground, curiosity prevailed among them and they pried +closely at him. They touched him, felt his arms, his knees, handled +his clothing, peered into his eyes. All this he endured, though he was +in a horrible fright. Then one, the black-haired girl with a bold, +proud face, came and stood closely before him and looked him full into +his eyes. He gave her look for look. She put a hand on each shoulder +and kissed him. After that there was a tussle among them, for each +must do what her sister had done. They took a kiss apiece, or maybe +more; then, circling round him, they swept him forward on the wind, +past Silent Water, over the Edge, out on the fells, on and on and on, +and never stopped till they reached Knapp Forest, that dreadful place. + +There in the hushed aisles and glades they played with this new-found +creature, played with him, fought for him, and would have loved him if +he had been minded for such adventuring. Two in particular he marked +as desiring his closer company--the black-haired and bold was one, and +the other was the sharp-faced and slim with eyes of a mouse and +hazel-brown hair. He called her the laughing girl and thought her the +kindest of them all. But they were all his friends at this time. +Andrew King, like young Tamlane, might have sojourned with them for +ever and a day, but for one thing. He saw by chance a seventh +maiden--a white-faced, woe-begone, horror-struck Seventh Sister, +blenched and frozen under a great beech. She may have been there +throughout his commerce with the rest, or she may have been revealed +to him in a flash then and there. So as it was he saw her suddenly, +and thereafter saw no other at all. She held his eyes waking; he left +his playmates and went to her where she crouched. He stooped and took +her hand. It was as cold as a dead girl's and very heavy. Amid the +screaming of the others, undeterred by their whirling and battling, he +lifted up the frozen one. He lifted her bodily and carried her in his +arms. They swept all about him like infuriated birds. The sound of +their rage was like that of gulls about a fish in the tide-way; but +they laid no hands on him, and said nothing that he could understand, +and by this time his awe was gone, and his heart was on fire. Holding +fast to what he had and wanted, he pushed out of Knapp Forest and took +the lee-side of the Edge on his way to Dryhope. This must have been +about the time of the gale at its worst. The Seventh Sister by Silent +Water may have fallen at this time; for had not Andrew King the +Seventh Sister in his arms? + +Anxiety as to the fate of Andrew King was spread over the village and +the greatest sympathy felt for the bereaved family. To have lost a +flock of sheep, a dog, and an only child at one blow is a terrible +misfortune. Old King, I am told, was prostrated, and the girl, Bessie +Prawle, violent in her lamentations over her "lad." The only person +unmoved was the youth's mother, Miranda King the widow. She, it seems, +had no doubts of his safety, and declared that he "would come in his +time, like his father before him"--a saying which, instead of +comforting the mourners, appears to have exasperated them. Probably +they did not at all understand it. Such consolations as Mr. Robson the +minister had to offer she received respectfully, but without comment. +All she had to say was that she could trust her son; and when he urged +that she had better by far trust in God, her reply, finally and +shortly, was that God was bound by His own laws and had not given us +heads and hearts for nothing. I am free to admit that her theology +upon this point seems to me remarkably sound. + +In the course of the 13th, anxious day as it promised to be, old +George King, returning from a fruitless quest over the fells, came +upon his sheep within a few hundred yards of his own house, collected +together in a flock and under the watch of his dog. They were, in +fact, as nearly as possible where he had understood them to be before +their stampede of the previous night. He was greatly heartened by the +discovery, though unable to account for the facts of it. The dog was +excessively tired, and ate greedily. Next morning, when the family and +some neighbours were standing together on the fell-side looking up the +valley where the Dryhope burn comes down from the hills, they saw two +figures on the rough road which follows it. Mrs. King, the widow, I +believe, had seen them first, but she had said nothing. It was Bessie +Prawle who raised the first cry that "Andrew was coming, and his wife +with him." All looked in the direction she showed them and recognised +the young man. Behind him walked the figure of a woman. This is the +accustomed manner of a man and wife to walk in that country. It is +almost a proof of their relationship. Being satisfied of the identity +of their child the whole party returned to the homestead to await him +and what he was bringing with him. Speculation was rife and volubly +expressed, especially by Bessie Prawle. Miranda King, however, was +silent; but it was noticed that she kept her eyes fixed upon the woman +behind her son, and that her lips moved as if she was muttering to +herself. + +The facts were as the expectations. Andrew King brought forward a +young, timid and unknown girl as his wife. By that name he led her up +to his grandfather, then to his mother; as such he explained her to +his neighbours, including (though not by name) Bessie Prawle, who had +undoubtedly hoped to occupy that position herself. + +Old King, overcome with joy at seeing his boy alive and well, and +dazed, probably, by events, put his hands upon the girl's head and +blessed her after the patriarchal fashion there persisting. He seems +to have taken canonical marriage for granted, though nobody else did, +and though a moment's reflection, had he been capable of so much, +would have shown him that that could not be. The neighbours were too +well disposed to the family to raise any doubts or objections; Bessie +Prawle was sullen and quiet; only Miranda King seems to have been +equal to the occasion. She, as if in complete possession of facts +which satisfied every question, received the girl as an equal. She did +not kiss her or touch her, but looked deeply into her eyes for a long +space of time, and took from her again an equally searching regard; +then, turning to her father-in-law and the company at large, she said, +"This is begun, and will be done. He is like his father before him." +To that oracular utterance old King, catching probably but the last +sentence, replied, "And he couldn't do better, my child." He meant no +more than a testimony to his daughter-in-law. Mrs. King's +observations, coupled with that, nevertheless, went far to give credit +to the alleged marriage. + +The girl, so far, had said nothing whatever, though she had been +addressed with more than one rough but kindly compliment on her youth +and good looks. And now Andrew King explained that she was dumb. +Consternation took the strange form of jocular approval of his +discretion in selecting a wife who could never nag him--but it was +consternation none the less. The mystery was felt to be deeper; there +was nothing for it now but to call in the aid of the parish +priest--"the minister," as they called him--and this was done. By the +time he had arrived, Miranda King had taken the girl into the cottage, +and the young husband and his grandfather had got the neighbours to +disperse. Bessie Prawle, breathing threatenings and slaughter, had +withdrawn herself. + +Mr. Robson, a quiet sensible man of nearer sixty than fifty years, +sat in the cottage, hearing all that his parishioners could tell him +and using his eyes. He saw the centre-piece of all surmise, a +shrinking, pale slip of a girl, by the look of her not more than +fifteen or sixteen years old. She was not emaciated by any means, +seemed to be well nourished, and was quite as vigorous as any child of +that age who could have been pitted against her. Her surroundings +cowed her, he judged. To Dryhope she was a stranger, a foreigner; to +her Dryhope and the Dryhopedale folk were perilous matter. Her general +appearance was that of a child who had never had anything but +ill-usage; she flinched at every sudden movement, and followed one +about with her great unintelligent eyes, as if she was trying to +comprehend what they showed her. Her features were regular and +delicate; her brows broad and eyebrows finely arched, her chin full, +her neck slim, her hands and feet narrow and full of what fanciers +call "breed." Her hair was very long and fine, dark brown with gleams +of gold; her eyes were large, grey in colour, but, as I have said, +unintelligent, like an animal's, which to us always seem +unintelligent. I should have mentioned, for Mr. Robson noticed it at +once, that her hair was unconfined, and that, so far as he could make +out, she wore but a single garment--a sleeveless frock, confined at +the waist and reaching to her knees. It was of the colour of +unbleached flax and of a coarse web. Her form showed through, and the +faint flush of her skin. She was a finely made girl. Her legs and feet +were bare. Immodest as such an appearance would have been in one of +the village maids, he did not feel it to be so with her. Her look was +so entirely foreign to his experience that there was no standard of +comparison. Everything about her seemed to him to be quite what one +would have expected, until one came, so to speak, in touch with her +soul. That, if it lay behind her inscrutable, sightless and dumb eyes, +betrayed her. There was no hint of it. Human in form, visibly and +tangibly human, no soul sat in her great eyes that a man could +discern. That, however, is not now the point. Rather it is that, to +all appearance a modest and beautiful girl, she was remarkably +undressed. It was inconceivable that a modest and beautiful girl could +so present herself, and yet a modest and beautiful girl she was. + +Mr. Robson put it to himself this way. There are birds--for instance, +jays, kingfishers, goldfinches--which are, taken absolutely, extremely +brilliant in colouring. Yet they do not jar, are not obtrusive. So it +was with her. Her dress was, perhaps, taken absolutely, indecorous. +Upon her it looked at once seemly and beautiful. Upon Bessie Prawle it +would have been glaring; but one had to dissect it before one could +discover any fault with it upon its wearer. She was very pale, even to +the lips, which were full and parted, as if she must breathe through +her mouth. He noticed immediately the shortness of her breath. It was +very distressing, and after a little while induced the same thing in +himself. And not in him only, but I can fancy that the whole group of +them sitting round her where she was crouched against Miranda King's +knees, were panting away like steam-engines before they had done with +her. While Mr. Robson was there Miranda never took her arm off her +shoulder for a moment; but the girl's eyes were always fixed upon +Andrew, who called himself her husband, unless her apprehensions were +directly called elsewhere. In that case she would look in the required +direction for the fraction of a second, terrified and ready, as you +may say, to die at a movement, and then, her fears at rest, back to +her husband's face. + +Mr. Robson's first business was to examine Andrew King, a perfectly +honest, well-behaved lad, whom he had known from his cradle. He was +candid--up to a point. He had found her on the top of Knapp Fell, he +said; she had been with others, who ill-treated her. What others? +Others of her sort. Fairies, he said, who lived up there. He pressed +him about this. Fairies? Did he really believe in such beings? Like +all country people he spoke about these things with the utmost +difficulty, and when confronted by worldly wisdom, became dogged. He +said how could he help it when here was one? Mr. Robson told him that +he was begging the question, but he looked very blank. To the surprise +of the minister, old King--old George King, the grandfather--had no +objections to make to the suggestion of fairies on Knapp Fell. He +could not say, there was no telling; Knapp was a known place; strange +things were recorded of the forest. Miranda, his daughter-in-law, was +always a self-contained woman, with an air about her of being +forewarned. He instanced her, and the minister asked her several +questions. Being pressed, she finally said, "Sir, my son is as likely +right as wrong. We must all make up our own minds." There that matter +had to be left. + +Andrew said that he had followed the fairies from the tarn on Lammer +Fell into Knapp Forest. They had run away from him, taking this girl +of his, as he supposed, with them. He had followed them because he +meant to have her. They knew that, so had run. Why did he want her? He +said that he had seen her before. When? Oh, long ago--when he had been +up there alone. He had seen her face among the trees for a moment. +They had been hurting her; she looked at him, she was frightened, but +couldn't cry out--only look and ask. He had never forgotten her; her +looks had called him often, and he had kept his eyes wide open. Now, +when he had found her again, he determined to have her. And at last, +he said, he had got her. He had had to fight for her, for they had +been about him like hell-cats and had jumped at him as if they would +tear him to pieces, and screamed and hissed like cats. But when he had +got her in his arms they had all screamed together, once--like a +howling wind--and had flown away. + +What next? Here he became obstinate, as if foreseeing what was to be. +What next? He had married her. Married her! How could he marry a fairy +on the top of Knapp Fell? Was there a church there, by chance? Had a +licence been handy? "Let me see her lines, Andrew," Mr. Robson had +said somewhat sternly in conclusion. His answer had been to lift up +her left hand and show the thin third finger. It carried a ring, made +of plaited rush. "I put that on her," he said, "and said all the words +over her out of the book." "And you think you have married her, +Andrew?" It was put to him _ex cathedrâ_. He grew very red and was +silent; presently he said, "Well, sir, I do think so. But she's not my +wife yet, if that's what you mean." The good gentleman felt very much +relieved. It was satisfactory to him that he could still trust his +worthy young parishioner. + +Entirely under the influence of Miranda King, he found the family +unanimous for a real wedding. To that there were two objections to +make. He could not put up the banns of a person without a name, and +would not marry a person unbaptised. Now, to baptise an adult +something more than sponsors are requisite; there must be voluntary +assent to the doctrines of religion by the postulant. In this case, +how to be obtained? He saw no way, since it was by no means plain to +him that the girl could understand a word that was said. He left the +family to talk it over among themselves, saying, as he went out of the +door, that his confidence in their principles was so strong that he +was sure they would sanction no step which would lead the two young +people away from the church door. + +In the morning Miranda King came to him with a report that matters had +been arranged and only needed his sanction. "I can trust my son, and +see him take her with a good conscience," she told him. "She's not one +of his people, but she's one of mine; and what I have done she can do, +and is willing to do." + +The clergyman was puzzled. "What do you mean by that, Mrs. King?" he +asked her. "What are _your people_? How do they differ from mine, or +your husband's?" + +She hesitated. "Well, sir, in this way. She hasn't got your tongue, +nor my son's tongue." + +"She has none at all," said the minister; but Miranda replied, "She +can talk without her tongue." + +"Yes, my dear," he said, "but I cannot." + +"But I can," was her answer; "she can talk to me--and will talk to +you; but not yet. She's dumb for a season, she's struck so. My son +will give her back her tongue--by-and-by." + +He was much interested. He asked Miranda to tell him who had struck +her dumb. For a long time she would not answer. "We don't name +him--it's not lawful. He that has the power--the Master--I can go no +nearer." He urged her to openness, got her at last to mention "The +King of the Wood." The King of the Wood! There she stuck, and nothing +he could say could move her from that name, The King of the Wood. + +He left it so, knowing his people, and having other things to ask +about. What tongue or speech had the respectable, the staid Miranda +King in common with the scared waif? To that she answered that she +could not tell him; but that it was certain they could understand each +other. How? "By looks," she said, and added scornfully, "she's not +the kind that has to clatter with her tongue to have speech with her +kindred." + +Miranda, then, was a kinswoman! He showed his incredulity, and the +woman flushed. "See here, Mr. Robson," she said, "I am of the sea, and +she of the fell, but we are the same nation. We are not of yours, but +you can make us so. Directly I saw her I knew what she was; and so did +she know me. How? By the eyes and understanding. I felt who she was. +As she is now so was I once. As I am now so will she be. I'll answer +for her; I'm here to do it. When once I'd followed my man I never +looked back; no more will she. The woman obeys the man--that's the +law. If a girl of your people was taken with a man of mine she'd lose +her speech and forsake her home and ways. That's the law all the world +over. God Almighty's self, if He were a woman, would do the same. He +couldn't help it. The law is His; but He made it so sure that not +Himself could break it." + +"What law do you mean?" she was asked. She said, "The law of life. The +woman follows the man." + +This proposition he was not prepared to deny, and the end of it was +that Mr. Robson baptised the girl, taking Miranda for godmother. +Mabilla they called her by her sponsor's desire, "Mabilla +By-the-Wood," and as such she was published and married. You may be +disposed to blame him for lightness of conscience, but I take leave to +tell you that he had had the cure of souls in Dryhope for +five-and-thirty years. He claimed on that score to know his people. +The more he knew of them, the less he was able to question the lore of +such an one as Miranda King. And he might remind you that Mabilla King +is alive to this hour, a wife and mother of children. That is a fact, +and it is also a fact, as I am about to tell you, that she had a hard +fight to win such peace. + +Married, made a woman, she lost her haunted look and gained some +colour in her cheeks. She lost her mortal chill. Her clothing, the +putting up of her hair made some difference, but loving entreaty all +the difference in the world. To a casual glance there was nothing but +refinement to distinguish her from her neighbours, to a closer one +there was more than that. Her eyes, they said, had the far, intent, +rapt gaze of a wild animal. They seemed to search minutely, reaching +beyond our power of vision, to find there things beyond our human ken. +But whereas the things which she looked at, invisible to us, caused +her no dismay, those within our range, the most ordinary and +commonplace, filled her with alarm. Her eyes, you may say, communed +with the unseen, and her soul followed their direction and dwelt +remote from her body. She was easily startled, not only by what she +saw but by what she heard. Nobody was ever more sensitive to sound. +They say that a piano-tuner goes not by sound, but by the vibrations +of the wire, which he is able to test without counting. It was so with +her. She seemed to feel the trembling of the circumambient air, and to +know by its greater or less intensity that something--and very often +what thing in particular--was affecting it. All her senses were +preternaturally acute--she could see incredible distances, hear, +smell, in a way that only wild nature can. Added to these, she had +another sense, whereby she could see what was hidden from us and +understand what we could not even perceive. One could guess as much, +on occasions, by the absorbed intensity of her gaze. But when she was +with her husband (which was whenever he would allow it) she had no +eyes, ears, senses or thoughts for any other living thing, seen or +unseen. She followed him about like a dog, and when that might not be +her eyes followed him. Sometimes, when he was afield with his sheep, +they saw her come out of the cottage and slink up the hedgerow to the +fell's foot. She would climb the brae, search him out, and then crouch +down and sit watching him, never taking her eyes off him. When he was +at home her favourite place was at his feet. She would sit huddled +there for hours, and his hand would fall upon her hair or rest on her +shoulder; and you could see the pleasure thrilling her, raying out +from her--just as you can see, as well as hear, a cat purring by the +fire. He used to whisper in her ear as if she was a child: like a +child she used to listen and wonder. Whether she understood him or no +it was sometimes the only way of soothing her. Her trembling stopped +at the sound of his voice, and her eyes left off staring and showed +the glow of peace. For whole long evenings they sat close together, +his hand upon her hair and his low voice murmuring in her ear. + +This much the neighbours report and the clergyman confirms, as also +that all went well with the young couple for the better part of two +years. The girl grew swiftly towards womanhood, became sleek and +well-liking; had a glow and a promise of ripeness which bid fair to be +redeemed. A few omens, however, remained, disquieting when those who +loved her thought of them. One was that she got no human speech, +though she understood everything that was said to her; another that +she showed no signs of motherhood; a third that Bessie Prawle could +not abide her. She alone of all the little community avoided the King +household, and scowled whensoever she happened to cross the path of +this gentle outland girl. Jealousy was presumed the cause; but I +think there was more in it than that. I think that Bessie Prawle +believed her to be a witch. + + +III + +To eyes prepared for coming disaster things small in themselves loom +out of a clear sky portentous. Such eyes had not young Andrew King the +bride-groom, a youth made man by love, secure in his treasure and +confident in his power of keeping what his confidence had won. Such +eyes may or may not have had Mabilla, though hers seemed to be centred +in her husband, where he was or where he might be. George King was old +and looked on nothing but his sheep, or the weather as it might affect +his sheep. Miranda King, the self-contained, stoic woman, had schooled +her eyes to see her common duties. Whatever else she may have seen she +kept within the door of her shut lips. She may have known what was +coming, she must have known that whatever came had to come. Bessie +Prawle, however, with hatred, bitter fear and jealousy to sharpen her, +saw much. + +Bessie Prawle was a handsome, red-haired girl, deep in the breast, +full-eyed and of great colour. Her strength was remarkable. She could +lift a heifer into a cart, and had once, being dared to it, carried +Andrew King up the brae in her arms. The young man, she supposed, +owed her a grudge for that; she believed herself unforgiven, and saw +in this sudden marriage of his a long-meditated act of revenge. By +that in her eyes (and as she thought, in the eyes of all Dryhope) he +had ill-requited her, put her to unthinkable shame. She saw herself +with her favours of person and power passed over for a nameless, +haunted, dumb thing, a stray from some other world into a world of +men, women, and the children they rear to follow them. She scorned +Mabilla for flinching so much, she scorned her for not flinching more. +That Mabilla could be desirable to Andrew King made her scoff; that +Andrew King should not know her dangerous kept her awake at night. + +For the world seemed to her a fearful place since Mabilla had been +brought into it. There were signs everywhere. That summer it thundered +out of a clear sky. Once in the early morning she had seen a bright +light above the sun--a mock sun which shone more fiercely than a fire +in daylight. She heard wild voices singing; on still days she saw the +trees in Knapp Forest bent to a furious wind. When Mabilla crept up +the fell on noiseless feet to spy for Andrew King, Bessie Prawle heard +the bents hiss and crackle under her, as if she set them afire. + +Next summer, too, there were portents. There was a great drought, so +great that Dryhope burn ran dry, and water had to be fetched from a +distance for the sheep. There were heather fires in many places; smut +got into the oats, and a plague of caterpillars attacked the trees so +that in July they were leafless, and there was no shade. There was no +pasture for the kine, which grew lean and languid. Their bones stuck +out through their skin; they moaned as they lay on the parched earth, +and had not strength enough to swish at the clouds of flies. They had +sores upon them, which festered and spread. If Mabilla, the nameless +wife, was not responsible for this, who could be? Perhaps Heaven was +offended with Dryhope on account of Andrew King's impiety. Bessie +believed that Mabilla was a witch. + +She followed the girl about, spying on everything she did. Once, at +least, she came upon her lying in the heather. She was plaiting rushes +together into a belt, and Bessie thought she was weaving a spell and +sprang upon her. The girl cowered, very white, and Bessie Prawle, her +heart on fire, gave tongue to all her bitter thoughts. The witch-wife, +fairy-wife, child or whatever she was seemed to wither as a flower in +a hot wind. Bessie Prawle towered above her in her strength, and +gained invective with every fierce breath she took. Her blue eyes +burned, her bosom heaved like the sea; her arm bared to the shoulder +could have struck a man down. Yet in the midst of her frenzied speech, +in full flow, she faltered. Her fists unclenched themselves, her arm +dropped nerveless, her eyes sought the ground. Andrew King, pale with +rage, sterner than she had ever seen him, stood before her. + +He looked at her with deadly calm. + +"Be out of this," he said; "you degrade yourself. Never let me see you +again." Before she had shrunk away he had stooped to the huddled +creature at his feet, had covered her with his arms and was whispering +urgent comfort in her ear, caressing her with voice and hands. Bessie +Prawle could not show herself to the neighbours for the rest of the +summer and early autumn. She became a solitary; the neighbours said +that she was in a decline. + +The drought, with all the troubles it entailed of plague, pestilence +and famine, continued through August and September. It did not really +break till All-Hallow's, and then, indeed, it did. + +The day had been overcast, with a sky of a coppery tinge, and +intensely dry heat; a chance puff of wind smote one in the face, hot +as the breath of a man in fever. The sheep panted on the ground, their +dry tongues far out of their mouths; the beasts lay as if dead, and +flies settled upon them in clouds. All the land was of one glaring +brown, where the bents were dry straw, and the heather first burnt +and then bleached pallid by the sun. The distance was blurred in a +reddish lurid haze; Knapp Fell and its forest were hidden. + +Mabilla, the dumb girl, had been restless all day, following Andrew +about like a shadow. The heat had made him irritable; more than once +he had told her to go home and she had obeyed him for the time, but +had always come back. Her looks roamed wide; she seemed always +listening; sometimes it was clear that she heard something--for she +panted and moved her lips. There was deep trouble in her eyes too; she +seemed full of fear. At almost any other time her husband would have +noticed it and comforted her. But his nerves, fretted by the long +scorching summer, were on this day of fire stretched to the cracking +point. He saw nothing, and felt nothing, but his own discomfort. + +Out on the parched fell-side Bessie Prawle sat like a bird of omen and +gloomed at the wrath to come. + +Toward dusk a wind came moaning down the valley, raising little spires +of dust. It came now down, now up. Sometimes two currents met each +other and made momentary riot. But farm-work has to get itself done +through fair or foul. It grew dark, the sheep were folded and fed, the +cattle were got in, and the family sat together in the kitchen, +silent, preoccupied, the men oppressed and anxious over they knew not +what. As for those two aliens, Miranda King and Mabilla By-the-Wood, +whatever they knew, one of them made no sign at all, and the other, +though she was white, though she shivered and peered about, had no +means of voicing her thought. + +They had their tea and settled to their evening tasks. The old +shepherd dozed over his pipe, Miranda knitted fast, Mabilla stared out +of the window into the dark, twisting her hands, and Andrew, with one +of his hands upon her shoulder, patted her gently, as if to soothe +her. She gave him a grateful look more than once, but did not cease to +shiver. Nobody spoke, and suddenly in the silence Mabilla gasped and +began to tremble. Then the dog growled under the table. All looked up +and about them. + +A scattering, pattering sound lashed at the window. Andrew then +started up. "Rain!" he said; "that's what we're waiting for," and made +to go to the door. Miranda his mother, and Mabilla his young wife, +caught him by the frock and held him back. The dog, staring into the +window-pane, bristling and glaring, continued to growl. They waited in +silence, but with beating hearts. + +A loud knock sounded suddenly on the door--a dull, heavy blow, as if +one had pounded it with a tree-stump. The dog burst into a panic of +barking, flew to the door and sniffed at the threshold. He whined and +scratched frantically with his forepaws. The wind began to blow, +coming quite suddenly down, solid upon the wall of the house, shaking +it upon its foundations. George King was now upon his feet. "Good God +Almighty!" he said, "this is the end of the world!" + +The blast was not long-lived. It fell to a murmur. Andrew King, now at +the window, could see nothing of the rain. There were no drops upon +the glass, nor sound upon the sycamores outside. But even while he +looked, and his grandfather, all his senses alert, waited for what was +to come, and the two pale women clung together, knowing what was to +come, there grew gradually another sound which, because it was +familiar, brought their terrors sharply to a point. + +It was the sound of sheep in a flock running. It came from afar and +grew in volume and distinctness; the innumerable small thudding of +sharp hoofs, the rustling of woolly bodies, the volleying of short +breath, and that indefinable sense of bustle which massed things +produce, passing swiftly. + +The sheep came on, panic-driven, voiceless in their fear, but speaking +aloud in the wildly clanging bells; they swept by the door of the +house with a sound like the rush of water; they disappeared in that +flash of sound. Old King cried, "Man, 'tis the sheep!" and flew for +his staff and shoes. Miranda followed to fetch them; but Andrew went +to the door as he was, shaking off his clinging wife, unlatched it and +let in a gale of wind. The dog shot out like a flame of fire and was +gone. + +It was as if the wind which was driving the sheep was going to scour +the house. It came madly, with indescribable force; it rushed into the +house, blew the window-curtains toward the middle of the room, drove +the fire outward and set the ashes whirling like snow all about. +Andrew King staggered before it a moment, then put his head down and +beat his way out. Mabilla shuddering shrank backward to the fireplace +and crouched there, waiting. Old King came out booted and cloaked, his +staff in his hand, battled to the door and was swept up the brae upon +the gale. Miranda did not appear; so Mabilla, white and rigid, was +alone in the whirling room. + +Creeping to her through the open door, holding to whatever solid thing +she could come by, entered Bessie Prawle. In all that turmoil and +chill terror she alone was hot. Her grudge was burning in her. She +could have killed Mabilla with her eyes. + +But she did not, for Mabilla was in the hands of greater and stronger +powers. Before Bessie Prawle's shocked eyes she was seen rigid and +awake. She was seen to cower as to some threatening shape, then to +stiffen, to mutter with her dry lips, and to grow still, to stare with +her wide eyes, and then to see nothing. A glaze swam over her eyes; +they were open, but as the eyes of the dead. + +Bessie Prawle, horror-struck, stretched out her arms to give her +shelter. All her honest humanity was reborn in her in this dreadful +hour. "My poor lass, I'll not harm ye," she was saying; but Mabilla +had begun to move. She moved as a sleep-walker, seeing but not seeing +her way; she moved as one who must, not as one who would. She went +slowly as if drawn to the open door. Bessie never tried to stop her; +she could not though she would. Slowly as if drawn she went to the +door, staring before her, pale as a cloth, rigid as a frozen thing. At +the threshold she swayed for a moment in the power of the storm; then +she was sucked out like a dried leaf and was no more seen. Overhead, +all about the eaves of the house the great wind shrilled mockery and +despairing mirth. The fire leapt toward the middle of the room and +fell back so much white ash. Bessie Prawle plumped down to her knees, +huddled, and prayed. + +Andrew King, coming back, found her there at it, alone. His eyes swept +the room. "Mabilla! Bessie Prawle, where is Mabilla?" The girl huddled +and prayed on. He took her by the shoulder and shook her to and fro. +"You foul wench, you piece, this is your doing." Bessie sobbed her +denials, but he would not hear her. Snatching up a staff, he turned, +threw her down in his fury. He left the house and followed the wind. + +The wind caught him the moment he was outside, and swept him onward +whether he would or not. He ran down the bank of the beck which seemed +to be racing him for a prize, leaping and thundering level with its +banks; before he had time to wonder whether the bridge still stood he +was up with it, over it and on the edge of the brae. Up the moorland +road he went, carried rather than running, and where it loses itself +in the first enclosure, being hard up against the wall, over he +vaulted, across the field and over the further wall. Out then upon the +open fell, where the heather makes great cushions, and between all of +them are bogs or stones, he was swept by the wind. It shrieked about +him and carried him up and over as if he were a leaf of autumn. Beyond +that was dangerous ground, but there was no stopping; he was caught in +the flood of the gale. He knew very well, however, whither it was +carrying him: to Knapp, that place of dread, whither he was now sure +Mabilla had been carried, resumed by her own people. There was no +drawing back, there was no time for prayer. All he could do was to +keep his feet. + +He was carried down the Dryhope fell, he said, into the next valley, +swept somehow over the roaring beck in the bottom, and up the rugged +side of Knapp, where the peat-hags are as high as rocks, and presently +knew without the help of his eyes that he was nearing the forest. He +heard the swishing of the trees, the cracking of the boughs, the sharp +crack and crash which told of some limb torn off and sent to ruin; and +he knew also by some hush not far off that the wind, great and furious +as it was, was to be quieted within that awful place. It was so. He +stood panting upon the edge of the wood, out of the wind, which roared +away overhead. He twittered with his foolish lips, not knowing what on +earth to do, nor daring to do anything had he known it; but all the +prayers he had ever learned were driven clean out of his head. + +He could dimly make out the tree-trunks immediately before him, low +bushes, shelves of bracken-fern; he could pierce somewhat into the +gloom beyond and see the solemn trees ranked in their order, and above +them a great soft blackness rent here and there to show the sky. The +volleying of the storm sounded like the sea heard afar off: it was so +remote and steady a noise that lesser sounds were discernible--the +rustlings, squeakings, and snappings of small creatures moving over +small undergrowth. Every one of these sent his heart leaping to his +mouth; but all his fears were to be swallowed up in amazement, for as +he stood there distracted, without warning, without shock, there stood +one by him, within touching distance, a child, as he judged it, with +loose hair and bright eyes, prying into his face, smiling at him and +inviting him to come on. + +"Who in God's name--?" cried Andrew King; but the child plucked him +by the coat and tried to draw him into the wood. + +I understand that he did not hesitate. If he had forgotten his gods he +had not forgotten his fairy-wife. I suppose, too, that he knew where +to look for her; he may have supposed that she had been resumed into +her first state. At any rate, he made his way into the forest by +guess-work, aided by reminiscence. I believe he was accustomed to aver +that he "knew where she was very well," and that he took a straight +line to her. I have seen Knapp Forest and doubt it. He did, however, +find himself in the dark spaces of the wood and there, sure enough, he +did also see the women with whom his Mabilla had once been co-mate. +They came about him, he said, like angry cats, hissing and shooting +out their lips. They did not touch him; but if eyes and white hateful +faces could have killed him, dead he had been then and there. + +He called upon God and Christ and made a way through them. His senses +had told him where Mabilla was. He found her pale and trembling in an +aisle of the trees. She leaned against a tall tree, perfectly rigid, +"as cold as a stone," staring across him with frozen eyes, her mouth +open like a round O. He took her in his arms and holding her close +turned and defied the "witches"--so he called them in his wrath. He +dared them in the name of God to touch him or his wife, and as he did +so he says that he felt the chill grow upon him. It took him, he said, +in the legs and ran up his body. It stiffened his arms till they felt +as if they must snap under the strain; it caught him in the neck and +fixed it. He felt his eyes grow stiff and hard; he felt himself sway. +"Then," he said, "the dark swam over me, the dark and the bitter cold, +and I knew nothing more." Questioned as he was by Mr. Robson and his +friends, he declared that it was at the name of God the cold got him +first. He saw the women hushed and scared, and at the same time one of +them looked over her shoulder, as if somebody was coming. Had he +called in the King of the Wood? That is what he himself thought. It +was the King of the Wood who had come in quest of Mabilla, had pulled +her out of the cottage in Dryhope and frozen her in the forest. It was +he, no doubt, said Andrew King, who had come to defy the Christian +and his God. I detect here the inspiration of his mother Miranda, the +strange sea-woman who knew Mabilla without mortal knowledge and spoke +to her in no mortal speech. But the sequel to the tale is a strange +one. + +Andrew King awoke to find himself in Mabilla's arms, to hear for the +first time in his life Mabilla call him softly by his name. "Andrew, +my husband," she called him, and when he opened his eyes in wonder to +hear her she said, "Andrew, take me home now. It is all over," or +words to that effect. They went along the forest and up and down the +fells together. The wind had dropped, the stars shone. And together +they took up their life where they had dropped it, with one +significant omission in its circumstance. Bessie Prawle had +disappeared from Dryhope. She had followed him up the fell on the +night of the storm, but she came not back. And they say that she never +did. Nothing was found of her body, though search was made; but a comb +she used to wear was picked up, they say, by the tarn on Limmer Fell, +an imitation tortoise-shell comb which used to hold up her hair. +Miranda King, who knew more than she would ever tell, had a shrewd +suspicion of the truth of the case. But Andrew King knew nothing, and +I daresay cared very little. He had his wood-wife, and she had her +voice; and between them, I believe, they had a child within the year. + +I ought to add that I have, with these eyes, seen Mabilla By-the-Wood +who became Mabilla King. When I went from Dryhopedale to Knapp Forest +she stood at the farmhouse door with a child in her arms. Two others +were tumbling about in the croft. She was a pretty, serious girl--for +she looked quite a girl--with a round face and large greyish-blue +eyes. She had a pink cotton dress on, and a good figure beneath it. +She was pale, but looked healthy and strong. Not a tall girl. I asked +her the best way to Knapp Forest and she came out to the gate to point +it to me. She talked simply, with a northern accent, and might have +been the child of generations of borderers. She pointed me the very +track by which Andrew King must have brought her home, by which the +King of the Wood swept her out on the wings of his wrath; she named +the tarn where once she dwelt as the spirit of a tree. All this +without a flush, a tremor or a sign in her blue eyes that she had ever +known the place. But these people are close, and seldom betray all +that they know or think. + + + + +OREADS + + +I end this little book with an experience of my own, or rather a +series of experiences, and will leave conclusions to a final chapter. +I don't say that I have no others which could have found a +place--indeed, there are many others. But they were fitful, momentary +things, unaccountable and unrelated to each other, without the main +clue which in itself is too intimate a thing to be revealed just yet, +and I am afraid of compiling a catalogue. I have travelled far and +wide across Europe in my day, not without spiritual experiences. If at +some future time these co-ordinate into a body of doctrine I will take +care to clothe that body in the vesture of print and paper. Here, +meantime, is something of recent years. + +My house at Broad Chalke stands in a narrow valley, which a little +stream waters more than enough. This valley is barely a mile broad +throughout its length, and in my village scarcely half so much. I can +be in the hills in a quarter of an hour, and in five-and-twenty +minutes find myself deeply involved, out of sight of man or his +contrivances. The downs in South Wilts are nowhere lofty, and have +none of the abrupt grandeur of those which guard the Sussex coast and +weald; but they are of much larger extent, broader, longer, more +untrodden, made much more intricate by the numberless creeks and +friths which, through some dim cycle of antiquity, the sea, ebbing +gradually to the great Avon delta, must have graved. Beautiful, with +quiet and a solemn peacefulness of their own, they always are. They +endure enormously, _in sæcula sæculorum_. Storms drive over them, +mists and rains blot them out; rarely they are shrouded in a fleece of +snow. In spring the clouds and the light hold races up their flanks; +in summer they seem to drowse like weary monsters in the still and +fervent heat. They are never profoundly affected by such changes of +Nature's face; grow not awful, sharing her wrath, nor dangerously fair +when she woos them with kisses to love. They are the quiet and sober +spokesmen of earth, clad in Quaker greys and drabs. They show no +crimson at sunset, no gilded livery at dawn. The grey deepens to cool +purple, the brown glows to russet at such festal times. Early in the +spring they may drape themselves in tender green, or show their sides +dappled with the white of sheep. Flowers they bear, but secretly; +little curious orchids, bodied like bees, eyed like spiders, flecked +with the blood-drops of Attis or Adonis or some murdered +shepherd-boy; pale scabious, pale cowslip, thyme that breathes sharp +fragrance, "aromatic pain," as you crush it, potentilla, lady's +slipper, cloudy blue milkwort, toad-flax that shows silver to the +wind. Such as these they flaunt not, but wear for choiceness. You +would not see them unless you knew them there. For denizens they have +the hare, the fox, and the badger. Redwings, wheatears, peewits, and +airy kestrels are the people of their skies. + +I love above all the solitude they keep, and to feel the pulsing of +the untenanted air. The shepherd and his sheep, the limping hare, +lagging fox, wheeling, wailing plover; such will be your company: you +may dip deeply into valleys where no others will be by, hear the sound +of your own heart, or the shrilling of the wind in the upland bents. I +have heard, indeed, half a mile above me, the singing of the great +harps of wire which stretch from Sarum to Shaftesbury along the +highest ridge; but such a music is no disturbance of the peace; +rather, it assures you of solitude, for you wouldn't hear it were you +not ensphered with it alone. There's a valley in particular, lying +just under Chesilbury, where I choose most to be. Chesilbury, a huge +grass encampment, three hundred yards square, with fosse and rampart +still sharp, with a dozen gateways and three mist-pools within its +ambit, which stands upon the ancient road and dominates two valleys. +Below that, coming up from the south, is my charmed valley. There, I +know, the beings whom I call Oreads, for want of a homelier word, +haunt and are to be seen now and then. I know, because I myself have +seen them. + +I must describe this Oread-Valley more particularly, I believe. East +and west, above it, runs the old road we call the Race-Plain--the +highest ground hereabouts, rising from Harnham by Salisbury to end at +Shaftesbury in Dorset. North of this ridge is Chesilbury Camp; +immediately south of that is the valley. Here the falling flood as it +drained away must have sucked the soil out sharply at two neighbouring +points, for this valley has two heads, and between them stands a +grass-grown bluff. The western vale-head is quite round but very +steep. It faces due south and has been found grateful by thorns, +elders, bracken and even heather. But the eastern head is sharper, +begins almost in a point. From that it sweeps out in a huge demi-lune +of cliff, the outer cord being the east, the inner hugging the bluff. +Facing north from the valley, facing these two heads, you see the +eastern of them like a great amphitheatre, its steep embayed side so +smooth as to seem the work of men's hands. It is too steep for turf; +it is grey with marl, and patchy where scree of flint and chalk has +run and found a lodgment. Ice-worn it may be, man-wrought it is not. +No red-deer picks have been at work there, no bright-eyed, scrambling +hordes have toiled their shifts or left traces through the centuries +as at the Devil's Dyke. This noble arena is Nature's. Here I saw her +people more than once. And the first sign I had of them was this. + + +I + +I was here alone one summer's night; a night of stars, but without a +moon. I lay within the scrub of the western valley-head and looked +south. I could just see the profile of the enfolding hills, but only +just; could guess that in the soft blackness below me, filling up the +foreground like a lake, the valley was there indeed; realise that if I +stepped down, perhaps thirty yards or so, my feet would sink into the +pile of the turf-carpet, and feel the sharp benediction of the dew. +About me surged and beat an enormous silence. The only sound at +all--and that was fitful--came from a fern-owl which, from a +thorn-bush above me, churred softly and at intervals his content with +the night. + +The stars were myriad, but sky-marks shone out; the Bear, the Belt, +the Chair, the dancing sister Pleiades. The Galaxy was like a +snow-cloud; startlingly, by one, by two, meteors flared a short +course and died. You never feel lonely when you have the stars; yet +they do not pry upon you. You can hide nothing from them, and need not +seek to hide. If they have foreknowledge, they nurse no after-thought. + +Now, to-night, as I looked and wondered at their beauty, I became +aware of a phenomenon untold before. Yet so quietly did it come, and +so naturally, that it gave me no disturbance, nor forced itself upon +me. A luminous ring, a ring of pale fire, in shape a long, narrow, and +fluctuating oval, became discernible in the sky south of my +stand-point, midway (I thought) between me and the south. + +It was diaphanous, or diaphanous to strong light behind it. At one +time I saw the great beacon of the south-west (Saturn, I think) +burning through it; not within the ring, but from behind the litten +vapour of which the ring was made. Lesser fires than his were put out +by it. It varied very much in shape as it spread or drew out, as a +smoker's blue rings are varied by puffs of wind. Now it was a perfect +round, now so long as to be less a hoop than a fine oblong. Sometimes +it was pear-shaped, sometimes amorphous; bulbous here, hollow there. +And there seemed movement; I thought now and again that it was spiral +as well as circular, that it might, under some stress of speed, +writhe upward like dust in a whirlwind. It wavered, certainly, in +elevation, lifting, sinking, wafted one way or another with the ease +of a cloud of gnats. It was extraordinarily beautiful and exciting. I +watched it for an hour. + +At times I seemed to be conscious of more than appearance. I cannot +speak more definitely than that. Music was assuredly in my head, very +shrill, piercing, continuous music. No air, no melody, but the +expectancy of an air, preparation for it, a prelude to melodious +issues. You may say the overture to some vast aerial symphony; I know +not what else to call it. I was never more than alive to it, never +certain of it. It was as furtive, secret, and tremulous as the dawn +itself. Now, just as under that shivering and tentative opening of +great music you are conscious of the fierce energy of violins, so was +I aware, in this surmise of music, of wild forces which made it. I +thought not of voices but of wings. I was sure that this ring of flame +whirled as well as floated in the air; the motion and the sound, alike +indecipherable, were one and the same to me. + +I watched it, I say, for an hour: it may have been for two hours. +By-and-by it came nearer, gradually very near. It was now dazzling, +not to be looked at full; but its rate of approach was inappreciable, +and as it came on I was able to peer into it and see nothing but its +beauty. There was a core of intensity, intolerably bright; about that, +lambency but no flame, in which I saw leaves and straws and fronds of +fern flickering, spiring, heeling over and over. That it whirled as +well as floated was now clear, for a strong wind blew before and after +it as it rushed by. This happened as I sat there. Blinding but not +burning, heralded by a keen wind, it came by me and passed; a swift +wind followed it as it went. It swept out toward the hollow of the +eastern valley-head, seemed to strike upon that and glance upward; +thence it swept gladly up, streaming to the zenith, grew thin, fine +and filmy, and seemed to melt into the utmost stars. I had seen +wonders and went home full of thought. + + +II + +I first saw an Oread in this place in a snow-storm which, driven by a +north-westerly gale, did havoc to the lowlands, but not to the folded +hills. I had pushed up the valley in the teeth of the storm to see it +under the white stress. It was hard work for me and my dog; I had to +wade knee-deep, and he to jump, like a cat in long grass, through the +drifts. But we reached our haven and found shelter from the weather. +High above us where we stood the snow-flakes tossed and rioted, but +before they fell upon us being out of the wind, they drifted idly +down, _come ... in Alpe senza vento_. The whole valley was purely +white, its outlines blurred by the slant-driving snow. There was not a +living creature to be seen, and my dog, a little sharp-nosed black +beast, shivered as he looked about, with wide eyes and quick-set ears, +for a friendly sight, and held one paw tentatively in the air, as if +he feared the cold. + +Suddenly he yelped once, and ran, limping on three legs or scuttling +on all four, over the snow toward the great eastern escarpment, but +midway stopped and looked with all his might into its smoothed hollow. +His jet-black ears stood sharp as a hare's; through the white scud I +was conscious that he trembled. He gazed into the sweep of the curving +hill, and following the direction he gave me, all my senses quick, I +gazed also, but for a while saw nothing. + +Very gradually, without alarm on my part, a blur of colour seemed to +form itself and centre in one spot, half-way up the concave of the +down; very pale yellow, a soft, lemon colour. At first scarcely more +than a warm tinge to the snow, it took shape as I watched it, and then +body also. It was now opaque within semi-transparency; one could trace +an outline, a form. Then I made out of it a woman dressed in yellow; a +slim woman, tawny-haired, in a thin smock of lemon-yellow which +flacked and bellied in the gale. Her hair blew out to it in snaky +streamers, sideways. Her head was bent to meet the cold, her bare +white arms were crossed, and hugged her shoulders, as if to keep her +bosom warm. From mid-thigh downward she was bare and very white, yet +distinct upon the snow. That was the white of chilled flesh I could +see. Though she wore but a single garment, and that of the thinnest +and shortest, though she suffered cold, hugged herself and shivered, +she was not of our nature, to die of such exposure. Her eyes, as I +could guess, were long-enduring and steadfast. Her lips were not blue, +though her teeth seemed to chatter; she was not rigid with the +stiffening that precedes frozen death. Drawing near her by degrees, +coming within fifteen yards of where she stood and passioned, though +she saw me, waited for me, in a way expected me, she showed neither +fear nor embarrassment, nor appealed by looks for shelter. She was, +rather, like a bird made tame by winter, that finds the lesser fear +swallowed up in a greater. For myself, as when one finds one's self +before a new thing, one stands and gazes, so was I before this being +of the wild. I would go no nearer, speak I could not. But I had no +fear. She was new to me not strange. I felt that she and I belonged to +worlds apart; that as soon might I hope to be familiar with fox or +marten as with her. My little black dog was of the same mind. He was +glad when I joined him, and wagged his little body--tail he has +none--to say so. But he had no eyes for me, nor I for him. We stood +together for company, and filled our eyes with the tenant of the +waste. How long we watched her I have no notion, but the day fell +swiftly in and found us there. + +She was, I take it, quite young, she was slim and of ordinary +proportions. When I say that I mean that she had nothing inhuman about +her stature, was neither giant nor pygmy. Whether she was what we call +good-looking or not I find it impossible to determine, for when +strangeness is so added to beauty as to absorb and transform it, our +standards are upset and balances thrown out. She was pale to the lips, +had large, fixed and patient eyes. Her arms and legs showed greyish in +the white storm, but where the smock was cut off the shadows it made +upon her were faintly warm. One of her knees was bent, the foot +supported only by the toes. The other was firm upon the ground: she +looked, to the casual eye, to be standing on one leg. Her eyes in a +stare covered me, but were not concerned to see me so near. They had +the undiscerning look of one whose mind is numbed, as hers might well +be. Shelter--a barn, a hayrick--lay within a mile of her; and yet she +chose to suffer the cold, and was able to endure it. She knew it, I +supposed, for a thing not to be avoided; she took it as it came--as +she would have taken the warmth and pleasure of the sun. We humankind +with our wits for ever turned inward to ourselves, grieve or exult as +we bid ourselves: she, like all other creatures else, was not in that +self-relation; her parts were closer-knit, and could not separate to +envisage each other. So, at least, I read her--that she lived as she +could and as she must, neither looked back with regret nor forward +with longing. Time present, the flashing moment, was all her being. +That state will never be ours again. + +I discovered before nightfall what she waited for there alone in the +cruel weather. A moving thing emerged from the heart of the white +fury, came up the valley along the shelving down: a shape like hers, +free-moving, thinly clad, suffering yet not paralysed by the storm. It +shaped as a man, a young man, and her mate. Taller, darker, stoutlier +made, his hardy legs were browner, and so were his arms--crossed like +hers over his breast and clasping his shoulders. His head was bare, +dark and crisply covered with short hair. His smock whipped about him +before, as the wind drove it; behind him it flacked and fluttered like +a flag. Patiently forging his way, bowing his head to the gale, he +came into range; and she, aware of him, waited. + +He came directly to her. They greeted by touchings. He stretched out +his hands to her, touched her shoulders and sides. He touched both her +cheeks, her chin, the top of her head, all with the flat of the palm. +He stroked her wet and streaming hair. He held her by the shoulders +and peered into her face, then put both arms about her and drew her to +him. She, who had so far made no motions of her own, now uncrossed her +arms and daintily touched him in turn. She put both her palms flat +upon his breast; next on his thighs, next, being within the circle of +his arms, she put up her hands and cupped his face. Then, with a +gesture like a sigh, she let them fall to his waist, fastened them +about him and let her head lie on his bosom. She shut her eyes, seemed +contented and appeased. He clasped her, with a fine, protecting air +upon him, looking down tenderly at her resting head. So they stood +together in the dusk, while the wind tore at their thin covering, and +the snow, lying, made a broad patch of white upon his shoulder. + +Breathless I looked at them, and my dog forgot to be cold. High on his +haunches, with lifted forepaw and sharp-cocked ears, he watched, +trembled and whined. + +After a while, impatient as it appeared of the ravaging storm, the +male drew the female to the ground. They used no language, as we +understand it, and made no sign that I could see, but rather sank +together to get the shelter of the drift. He lay upon the snow, upon +the weather side, she close beside him. They crouched like two birds +in a storm, and hid their heads under their interlacing arms. He gave +the weather his back, and raised himself on his elbow, the better to +shield her. Within his arm she lay and cuddled to him snugly. I can +describe his action no more closely than by saying that he covered her +as a hen her chick. As a partridge grouts with her wings in a dusty +furrow, so he worked in the powdered snow to make her a nest. When the +night fell upon them, with its promise of bitter frost in the +unrelenting wind, she lay screened against its rigours by the shelter +of him. They were very still. Their heads were together, their cheeks +touched. I believe that they slept. + + +III + +In the autumn, in harvest-time, I saw her with a little one. She was +lying now, deeply at ease, in the copse wood of the valley-head, +within a nest of brake-fern, and her colouring was richer, more in +tune with the glory of the hour. She had a burnt glow in her cheeks; +her hair showed the hue of the corn which, not a mile away, our people +were reaping afield. From where we were, she and I, one could hear the +rattle of the machine as it swept down the tall and serried wheat. It +was the top of noon when I found her; the sun high in heaven, but so +fierce in his power that you saw him through a mist of his own making, +and the sky all about him white as a sea-fog. The Oread's body was +sanguine brown, only her breast, which I saw half-revealed through a +slit in her smock, was snowy white. It was the breast of a maiden, not +of a mother with a young child. + +She leaned over it and watched it asleep. Once or twice she touched +its head in affection; then presently looked up and saw me. If I had +had no surprise coming upon her, neither now had she. Her eyes took me +in, as mine might take in a tree not noticed before, or a flowering +bush, or a finger-post. Such things might well be there, and might +well not be; I had no particular interest for her, and gave her no +alarm. Nothing assures me so certainly of her remoteness from myself, +and of my kinship with her too, as this absence of shock. + +She allowed me to come nearer, and nearer still, to stand close over +her and examine the child. She did not lift her head, but I knew that +she was aware of me; for her eyelids lifted and fell quickly, and +showed me once or twice her watchful eyes. She was indeed a beautiful +creature, exquisite in make and finish. Her skin shone like the petals +of certain flowers. There is one especially, called _Sisyrinchium_, +whose common name of Satin-flower describes a surface almost metallic +in its lustre. I thought of that immediately: her skin drank in and +exhaled light. I could not hit upon the stuff of which her shift was +made. It looked like coarse silk, had a web, had fibres or threads. It +may have been flax, but that it was much too sinuous. It seemed to +stick to the body where it touched, even to seek the flesh where it +did not touch, that it might cling like gossamer with invisible +tentacles. In colour it was very pale yellow, not worn nor stained. It +was perfectly simple, sleeveless, and stopped half-way between the hip +and the knee. I looked for, but could not discover, either hem or +seam. Her feet and hands were very lovely, the toes and fingers long +and narrow, rosy-brown. I had full sight of her eyes for one throbbing +moment. Extraordinarily bright, quick and pulsing, waxing and waning +in intensity (as if an inner light beat in them), of the grey colour +of a chipped flint stone. The lashes were long, curving and very dark; +they were what you might call smut-colour and gave a blurred effect to +the eyes which was strange. This, among other things, was what set her +apart from us, this and the patient yet palpitating stare of her +regard. She looked at me suddenly, widely and full, taking in much +more than me, yet making me the centre of her vision. It gave me the +idea that she was surprised at my nearness and ready for any attack, +but did not seek to avoid it. There I was overstanding her and her +offspring; and what was must be. + +Of the little one I could not see much. It was on its side in the +fern, fast asleep. Its arms were stretched up the slope, its face was +between them. Its knees were bent and a little foot tucked up to touch +its body. Quite naked, brown all over, it was as plump and smooth and +tender as a little pig. But it was not pink; it was very brown. + +All nature seemed at the top of perfection that wonderful day. A hawk +soared high in the blue, bees murmured all about, the distance +quivered. I could see under the leaves of a great mullein the bright +eyes, then the round body of a mouse. Afar off the corn-cutter rattled +and whirred, and above us on the ridgeway some workmen sat at their +dinner under the telegraph wires. Men were all about us at their +affairs with Nature's face; and here stood I, a man of themselves, and +at my feet the Oread lay at ease and watched her young. There was food +for wonder in all this, but none for doubt. Who knows what his +neighbour sees? Who knows what his dog? Every species of us walks +secret from the others; every species of us the centre of his +universe, its staple of measure, and its final cause. And if at times +one is granted a peep into new heavens and a new earth, and can get no +more, perhaps the best thing we win from that is the conviction that +we must doubt nothing and wonder at everything. Here, now, was I, +common, blundering, trampling, make-shift man, peering upon my +Oread--fairy of the hill, whatever she was--and tempted to gauge her +by my man-taught balances of right and wrong, and use and wont. Was +that young male who had sheltered her in the snow her mate in truth, +the father of her young one? Or what sort of mating had been hers? +What wild love? What mysteries of the night? And where was he now? And +was he one, or were they many, who companioned this beautiful thing? +And would he come if I waited for him? And would he share her watch, +her quiet content, her still rapture? + +Idle, man-made questions, custom-taught! I did wait. I sat by her +waiting. But he did not come. + + +IV + +A month later, in October, I saw a great assembling of Oreads, by +which I was able to connect more than one experience. I could now +understand the phenomenon of the luminous ring. + +I reached the valley by about six o'clock in the evening. It was +twilight, not yet dusk. The sun was off the hollow, which lay in blue +mist, but above the level of the surrounding hills the air was bathed +in the sunset glow. The hush of evening was over all, the great cup of +the down absolutely desert; there were no birds, nor voices of birds; +not a twig snapped, not a leaf rustled. Imperceptibly the shadows +lengthened, faded with the light; and again behind the silence I +guessed at, rather than discerned, a preparatory, gathering music. So +finally, by twos and threes, they came to their assembling. + +Once more I never saw them come. Out of the mist they drifted +together. There had been a moment when they were not there; there was +a moment when I saw them. I saw three of them together, two females +and a male. They formed a circle, facing inwards, their arms +intertwined. The pale colour of their garments, the grey tones in +their flesh were so perfectly in tune with the hazy light, that it +would have been impossible, I am certain, to have seen them at all at +a hundred yards' distance. I could not determine whether they were +conversing or not: if they were, it was without speech. I have never +heard an articulate sound from any one of them, and have no provable +reason for connecting the unvoiced music I have sometimes discerned +with any act of theirs. It has accompanied them, and may have +proceeded from them--but I don't know that. Of these three linked +together I remember that one of them threw back her head till she +faced the sky. She did not laugh, or seem to be laughing: there was no +sound. It was rather as if she was bathing her face in the light. She +threw her head back so far that I could see the gleam in her wild +eyes; her hair streamed downward, straight as a fall of water. The +other two regarded her, and the male presently withdrew one of his +arms from the circle and laid his hand upon her. She let it be so; +seemed not to notice. + +Imperceptibly others had come about these three. If I took my eyes off +a group for a moment they were attracted to other groups or single +shapes. Some lay at ease on the sward, resting on elbow; some prone, +on both elbows; some seemed asleep, their heads on molehill pillows; +some sat huddling together, with their chins upon their knees; some +knelt face to face and held each other fondly; some were teasing, some +chasing others, winding in and out of the scattered groups. But +everything was doing in complete silence. + +Now and again one, flying from another, would rise in the air, the +pursuer following. They skimmed, soared, glided like swallows, in long +sweeping curves--there was no noise in their flight. They were quite +without reticence in their intercourse; desired or avoided, loved or +hated as the moment urged them; strove to win, struggled to escape, +achieved or surrendered without remark from their companions. They +were like children or animals. Desire was reason good; and if love was +soon over, hate lasted no longer. One passion or the other set them +scuffling: when it was spent they had no after-thought. + +One pretty sight I saw. A hare came lolloping over the valley bottom, +quite at his ease. In the midst of the assembly he stopped to nibble, +then reared himself up and cleaned his face. He saw them and they him +without concern on either side. + +The valley filled up; I could not count the shifting, crossing, +restless shapes I saw down there. Presently, without call or signal, +as if by one consent, the Oreads joined hands and enclosed the whole +circuit in their ring. The effect in the dusk was of a pale glow, as +of the softest fire, defining the contour of the valley; and soon they +were moving, circling round and round. Shriller and louder swelled the +hidden music, and faster span the ring. It whirled and wavered, lifted +and fell, but so smoothly, with such inherent power of motion, that it +was less like motion visible than motion heard. Nothing was +distinguishable but the belt of pale fire. That which I had seen +before they had now become--a ring of flame intensely swift. As if +sucked upward by a centripetal force it rose in the air. Wheeling +still with a sound incredibly shrill it rose to my level, swept by me +heralded by a keen wind, and was followed by a draught which caught +leaves and straws of grass and took them swirling along. Round and up, +and ever up it went, narrowing and spiring to the zenith. There, +looking long after it, I saw it diminish in size and brightness till +it became filmy as a cloud, then melted into the company of the +stars. + + + + +A SUMMARY CHAPTER + + +Now, it is the recent publication by Mr. Evans Wentz of a careful and +enthusiastic work upon _The Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries_ which has +inspired me to put these pages before the public. Some of them have +appeared in the magazines as curious recitals and may have afforded +pastime to the idle-minded, but without the courageous initiative of +Mr. Wentz I don't know that I should have attempted to give them such +coherence as they may claim to possess. And that, I fear, will be very +little without this chapter in which I shall, if I can, clear the +ground for a systematic study of the whole subject. No candid reader +can, I hope, rise from the perusal of the book without the conviction +that behind the world of appearance lies another and a vaster with a +thronging population of its own--with many populations, indeed, each +absorbed in uttering its being according to its own laws. If I have +afforded nothing else I have afforded glimpses into that world; and +the question now is, What do we precisely gather, what can we be said +to know of the laws of that world in which these swift, beautiful and +apparently ruthless creatures live and move and utter themselves? I +shall have to draw upon more than I have recorded here: cases which I +have heard of, which I have read of in other men's books, as well as +those which are related here as personal revelation. If I speak +pragmatically, _ex cathedrâ_, it is not intentional. If I fail +sometimes to give chapter and verse it will be because I have never +taken any notes of what has gone into my memory, and have no documents +to hand. But I don't invent; I remember. + + * * * * * + +There is a chain of Being of whose top alike and bottom we know +nothing at all. What we do know is that our own is a link in it, and +cannot generally, can only fitfully and rarely, have intercourse with +any other. I am not prepared with any modern instances of intercourse +with the animal and vegetable world, even to such a limited extent, +for instance, as that of Balaam with his ass, or that of Achilles with +his horses; but I suspect that there are an enormous number +unrecorded. Speech, of course, is not necessary to such an +intercourse. Speech is a vehicle of human intercourse, but not of that +of any other created order so far as we know.[8] Birds and beasts do +not converse in speech, smell or touch seems to be the sense +employed; and though the vehicles of smell and touch are unknown to +us, in moments of high emotion we ourselves converse otherwise than by +speech. Indeed, seeing that all created things possess a spirit +whereby they are what they are, it does not seem necessary to suppose +intercourse impossible without speech, and I myself have never had any +difficulty in accepting the stories of much more vital mixed +intercourse which we read of in the Greek and other mythologies. If we +read, for instance, that such and such a man or woman was the +offspring of a woman and the spirit of a river, or of a man and the +spirit of a hill or oak-tree, it does not seem to me at all +extraordinary. The story of the wife who suffered a fairy union and +bore a fairy child which disappeared with her is a case in point. The +fairy father was, so far as I can make out, the indwelling spirit of a +rose, and the story is too painful and the detail in my possession too +exact for me to put it down here. I was myself actually present, and +in the house, when the child was born. I witnessed the anguish of the +unfortunate husband, who is now dead. Mr. Wentz has many instances of +the kind from Ireland and other Celtic countries; but fairies are by +no means confined to Celtic countries, though they are more easily +discerned by Celtic races. + +[Footnote 8: The speech of Balaam's ass or of Balaam, of Achilles and +his horses are, of course, necessary conventions of the poet's and do +not imply that words passed between the parties.] + +Of this chain of Being, then, of which our order is a member, the +fairy world is another and more subtle member, subtler in the right +sense of the word because it is not burdened with a material envelope. +Like man, like the wind, like the rose, it has spirit; but unlike any +of the lower orders, of which man is one, it has no sensible wrapping +unless deliberately it consents to inhabit one. This, as we know, it +frequently does. I have mentioned several cases of the kind; Mrs. +Ventris was one, Mabilla By-the-Wood was another. I have not +personally come across any other cases where a male fairy took upon +him the burden of a man than that of Quidnunc. Even there I have never +been satisfied that Quidnunc became man to the extent that Mrs. +Ventris did. Quidnunc, no doubt, was the father of Lady Emily's +children; but were those children human? There are some grounds for +thinking so, and in that case, if "the nature follows the male," +Quidnunc must have doffed his immateriality and suffered real +incarnation. If they were fairy children the case is altered. Quidnunc +need not have had a body at all. Now since it is clear that the fairy +world is a real order of creation, with laws of its own every whit as +fixed and immutable as those of any other order known to naturalists, +it is very reasonable to inquire into the nature and scope of those +laws. I am not at all prepared at present to attempt anything like a +digest of them. That would require a lifetime; and no small part of +the task, after marshalling the evidence, would be to agree upon terms +which would be intelligible to ourselves and yet not misleading. To +take polity alone, are we to understand that any kind of Government +resembling that of human societies obtains among them? When we talk of +Queens or Kings of the Fairies, of Oberon and Titania, for example, +are we using a rough translation of a real something, or are we +telling the mere truth? Is there a fairy king? The King of the Wood, +for instance, who was he? Is there a fairy queen? Who is Queen Mab? +Who is Despoina? Who is the Lady of the Lake? Who is the "_Βασίλισσα +τὣν βουνὣν_," or "_Μεγάλη Κυρά_" of whom Mr. Lawson tells us such +suggestive things in his _Modern Greek Folk-lore?_ Who is Despoina, +with whom I myself have conversed, "a dread goddess, not of human +speech?" The truth, I suspect, is this. There are, as we know, +countless tribes, clans, or orders of fairies, just as there are +nations of men. They confess the power of some greater Spirit among +themselves, bow to it instantly and submit to its decrees; but they do +not, so far as I can understand, acknowledge a monarchy in any sense +of ours. If there is a Supreme Power over the fairy creation it is +Proserpine; but hers is too remote an empire to be comparable to any +of ours. Not even Cæsar, not even the Great King, could hope to rule +such myriads as she. She may stand for the invisible creation no +doubt, but she would never have commerce with it. No fairy hath seen +her at any time; no sovereignty such as we are now discussing would be +applicable to her dominion. That of Artemis, or that of Pan, is more +comparable. Artemis is certainly ruler of the spirits of the air and +water, of the hills and shores of the sea, and to some extent her +power overlaps that of Pan who is potent in nearly all land solitudes. +But really the two lord-ships can be exactly discriminated. They never +conflict. The legions of Artemis are all female, though on earth men +as well as women worship her; the legions of Pan are all male, though +on earth he can chasten women as well as men.[9] But Pan can do +nothing against Artemis, nor she anything against him or any of his. +The decree or swift deed of either is respected by the other. They are +not, then, as earthly kings, leaders of their hosts to battle against +their neighbours. Fairies fight and marshal themselves for war; Mr. +Wentz has several cases of the kind. But Pan and Artemis have no share +in these warfares. Queen Mab is one of the many names, and points to +one of the many manifestations of Artemis; the Lady of the Lake is +another. Both of these have died out, and in the country she is +generally hinted at under the veil of "Mistress of the Wood" or "Lady +of the Hill." I heard the latter from a Wiltshire shepherd; the former +is used in Sussex, in the Cheviots, and in Lincolnshire, and was +introduced, I believe, by the Gipsies. Titania was a name of romance, +and so was Oberon, that of her husband in romance. Queen Mab has no +husband, nor will she ever have. + +[Footnote 9: But if this is true, who is the King of the Wood? The +statement is too sweeping.] + +But she is, of course, a goddess, and not a queen in our sense of the +word. The fairies, who partake of her nature just so far as we partake +of theirs, pray to her, invoke her, and make her offerings every day. +But a vital difference between their kind and ours is that they can +see her and live; and we never see the Gods until we die. + +They have no other leaders, I believe, and certainly no royal houses. +Faculty is free in the fairy world to its utmost limit. A fairy's +power within his own order is limited only by the extent of his +personal faculty, and subject only to the Gods. There is no civil law +to restrain him, and no moral law; no law at all except the law of +being.[10] + +[Footnote 10: Apparent eccentricities of this law, such as the +obedience to iron, or zinc (if we may believe Beckwith), should be +noted. I can't explain them. They seem arbitrary at first sight, but +nothing in Nature is arbitrary.] + +We are contemplating, then, a realm, nay, a world, where anarchy is +the rule, and anarchy in the widest sense. The fairies are of a world +where Right and Wrong don't obtain, where Possible and Impossible are +the only finger-posts at cross-roads; for the Gods themselves give no +moral sanction to desire and hold up no moral check. The fairies love +and hate intensely; they crave and enjoy; they satisfy by kindness or +cruelty; they serve or enslave each other; they give life or take it +as their instinct, appetite or whim may be. But there is this +remarkable thing to be noted, that when a thing is dead they cannot be +aware of its existence. For them it is not, it is as if it had never +been. Ruth, therefore, is unknown, their emotions are maimed to that +serious extent that they cannot regret, cannot pity, cannot weep for +sorrow. They weep through rage, but sorrow they know not. Similarly, +they cannot laugh for joy. Laughing with them is an expression of +pleasure, but not of joy. Here then, at least, we have the better of +them. I for one would not exchange my privilege of pity or my +consolation of pure sorrow for all their transcendent faculty. + +It is often said that fairies of both sexes seek our kind because we +know more of the pleasure of love than they do. Since we know more of +the griefs of it that is likely to be true; but it is a great mistake +to suppose that they are unsusceptible to the great heights and deeps +of the holy passion. It is to make the vulgar confusion between the +passion and the expression of it. They are capable of the greatest +devotion to the beloved, of the greatest sacrifice of all--the +sacrifice of their own nature. These fairy-wives of whom I have been +speaking--Miranda King, Mabilla By-the-Wood--when they took upon them +our nature, and with it our power of backward-looking and +forward-peering, was what they could remember, was what they must +dread, no sacrifice? They could have escaped at any moment, mind you, +and been free.[11] Resuming their first nature they would have lost +regret. But they did not. Love was their master. There are many cases +of the kind. With men it is otherwise. I have mentioned Mary Wellwood, +the carpenter's wife, twice taken by a fairy and twice recaptured. The +last time she was brought back to Ashby-de-la-Zouche she died there. +But there is reason for this. A woman marrying a male fairy gets +some, but not all, of the fairy attributes, while her children have +them in full at birth. She bears them with all the signs of human +motherhood, and directly they are born her earthly rights and duties +cease. She does not nurse them and she can only rise in the air when +they are with her. That means that she cannot go after them if they +are long away from her, unless she can get another fairy to keep her +company. By the same mysterious law she can only conceal herself, or +doff her appearance, with the aid of a fairy. For some time after her +abduction or surrender her husband has to nourish her by breathing +into her mouth; but with the birth of her first child she can support +herself in the fairy manner. It was owing to this imperfect state of +being that Mary Wellwood was resumed by her friends the first time. +The second time she went back of her own accord. + +[Footnote 11: When a fairy marries a man she gradually loses her +fairy-power and her children have none of it or only vestiges--so much +as the children of a genius may perhaps exhibit. I am not able to say +how long the fairy-wife's ability to resume her own nature lasts. _The +Forsaken Merman_ occurs to one; but I doubt if Miranda King, at the +time, say, of her son's marriage with Mabilla, could have gone back to +the sea. Sometimes, as in Mrs. Ventris's case, fairy-wives play truant +for a night or for a season. I have reason to believe that not +uncommon. The number of fairy-wives in England alone is very +considerable--over a quarter of a million, I am told.] + +But with regard to their love-business among themselves it is a very +different matter, so far as I can understand it. The fairy child is +initiated at the age of puberty and is then competent to pair. He is +not long in selecting his companion; nor does she often seem to refuse +him, though mating is done by liking in all cases and has nothing +whatever to do with the parents. It must be remembered, of course, +that they are subject to the primitive law from which man only has +freed himself. They frequently fight for the possession of the female, +or measure their powers against each other; and she goes with the +victor or the better man.[12] I don't know any case where the advance +has been made by the female. Pairing may be for a season or for a +period or for life. I don't think there is any rule; but in all cases +of separation the children are invariably divided--the males to the +father, the females to the mother. After initiation the children owe +no allegiance to their parents. Love with them is a wild and wonderful +rapture in all its manifestations, and without regard necessarily to +sex. I never, in my life, saw a more beautiful expression of it than +in the two females whom I saw greet and embrace on Parliament Hill. +Their motions to each other, their looks and their clinging were +beyond expression tender and swift. Nor shall I ever forget the pair +of Oreads in the snow, of whose meeting I have said as much as is +possible in a previous chapter. It must be remembered that I am +dealing with an order of Nature which knows nothing of our shames and +qualms, which is not only unconscious of itself but unconscious of +anything but its immediate desire; but I am dealing with it to the +understanding of a very different order, to whom it is not enough to +do a thing which seems good in its own eyes, but requisite also to be +sure of the approbation of its fellow-men. I should create a wrong +impression were I to enlarge upon this branch of my subject; I should +make my readers call fairies shameful when as a fact they know not the +meaning of shame, or reprove them for shamelessness when, indeed, they +are luckily without it. I shall make bold to say once for all that as +it is absurd to call the lightning cruel, so it is absurd to call +shameful those who know nothing about the deformity. No one can know +what love means who has not seen the fairies at their loving--and so +much for that. + +[Footnote 12: I saw an extraordinary case of that, where a male came +suddenly before a mated pair, asserted himself and took her to himself +incontinent. There was no fighting. He stood and looked. The period of +suspense was breathless but not long.] + +The laws which govern the appearance of fairies to mankind or their +commerce with men and women seem to be conditioned by the ability of +men to perceive them. The senses of men are figuratively speaking +lenses coloured or shaped by personality. How are we to know the form +and pressure of the great river Enipeus, whose shape, for the love of +Tyro, Poseidon took? And so the accounts of fairy appearance, of fairy +shape, size, vesture, will vary in the measure of the faculty of the +percipient. To me, personally, the fairies seem to go in gowns of +yellow, grey, russet or green, but mostly in yellow or grey. The +Oreads or Spirits of the hills vary. In winter their vesture is +yellow, in summer it is ash-green. The Dryad whom I saw was in grey, +the colour of the lichened oak-tree out of which she gleamed. The +fairies in a Norman forest had long brown garments, very close and +clinging, to the ankles. They were belted, and their hair was loose. +But that is invariable. I never saw a fairy with snooded or tied up +hair. They are always bare-footed. Despoina is the only fairy I ever +saw in any other colour than those I have named. She always wears +blue, of the colour of the shadows on a moonlight night, very +beautiful. She, too, wears sandals, which they say the Satyrs weave +for her as a tribute. They lay them down where she has been or is +likely to be; for they never see her. + +But this matter of vesture is really a digression: I have more +important matter in hand, and that is to consider the intercourse +between fairy and mortal, as it is governed by appearance. How does a +man, for instance, gain a fairy-wife? How does a woman give herself to +a fairy-lover? I have given a careful account of a case of each sort +in answer. Young King gained his wife by capture; Lady Emily Rich +followed her lover at a look. + +But this does not really touch the point, which is, rather, how was +Lady Emily Rich brought or put into such a relation with Quidnunc +that she could receive a look from him? How was King put into such a +relation with Mabilla that he could take her away from her own people? +There must have been an incarnation, you would say; and I should agree +with you. Now in Andrew King's case there was belief to go upon, the +belief common to all the Cheviot side, handed down to it from untold +generations and never lost; coupled with that, there was an intense +and probably long-standing desire in the young man himself to realise +and substantiate his belief. He had brooded over it, his fancy had +gone to work upon it; he loved his Mabilla before ever he saw her; his +love, it was, which evoked her. And I take it as proved--at any rate +it is proved to my own satisfaction--that faith coupled with desire +has power--the power of suggestion it is called--over Spirit as it +certainly has over Matter. If I say, then, that Andrew King evoked +Mabilla By-the-Wood, called her out of her own world into his, I +assert two things: the first, that she was really at one time in her +own world, the second, that she was afterward really in his. The +second my own senses can vouch for. That she was fetched back by the +King of the Wood and recaptured by Andrew are minor points. Grant the +first taking and there is no difficulty about them. + +Mr. Lawson gives cases from Greece which point to certain ritual +performances on the part of the lover; the snatching, for instance, of +a handkerchief from the beloved, of which the preservation is +tantamount to the permanence of the subsequent union. He has a curious +case, too, of a peasant who married a nymph and gave her a child but +could not make her speak to him. He consulted a wise woman who advised +him to threaten her with the fire for the baby if she would not talk. +He did it and the charm worked. The Nymph spoke fiercely to him, "You +dog, leave my child alone," she said, and seized it from him, and with +it disappeared. That is parallel to my case where love made Mabilla +speak. It was love for her husband, to be sure; but she had then no +children. + +Mr. Wentz gets no evidence of fairy-wives from Ireland, but a great +number out of Wales. One of them is the beautiful tale of Einion and +Olwen (p. 161) which has many points of resemblance with mine from the +Border. Einion also seems to have met the King of the Wood. Like +Andrew King he was kissed by the nymphs, but only by one of them; but +unlike him he stayed in their country for a year and a day, then went +back to his own people, and finally returned for his fairy-wife. +Taliesin was their son. No conditions seem to have been made. + +So much for fairy brides, but now for fairy grooms. I have two cases +to add to that of Quidnunc, but before giving them, let me say of his +affair that since the suggestion there seems to have come from him to +the woman, the incarnation, if such there were, must have been +voluntary. Evocation was not instrumental in it. He appeared before +her, as she had appeared before others, many others, including myself, +and his subsequent commerce with her was achieved by his own personal +force. You may say that she had been prepared to see him by belief and +desire, by belief and desire acting upon a mind greatly distressed and +probably overwrought. You may say that she saw what she ardently +desired to see. It is quite true, I cannot deny it; but I point to his +previous manifestations, and leave it there. + +Here is a tale to the purpose which I got out of Worcestershire. Two +girls, daughter and niece of a farmer, bosom friends and bed-fellows, +became involved in a love-affair and, desperate of a happy issue, +attempted a charm to win their lovers back. On All Hallow Eve, two +hours before the sun, they went into the garden, barefoot, in their +nightgowns and circled about a stone which was believed to be +bewitched.[13] They used certain words, the Lord's prayer backward or +what not, and had an apparition. A brown man came out of the bushes +and looked at them for some time. Then he came to them, paralysed as +they may have been, and peering closely into the face of one of them +gave her a flower and disappeared. That same evening they kept the +Hallow E'en with the usual play, half-earnest, half-game, and, among +other things which they did, "peascodded" the girls. The game is a +very old one, and consists in setting the victim in a chair with her +back to the door while her companions rub her down with handfuls of +pea-shucks. During this ceremony if any man enter the room he is her +lover, and she is handed over to him. This was done, then, to one of +the girls who had dared the dawn magic; and in the midst of it a brown +man, dressed in a smock-frock tied up with green ribbons, appeared, +standing in the door. He took the girl by the hand and led her out of +the house. She was seen no more that night, nor for many days +afterward, though her parents and neighbours hunted her far and wide. +By-and-by she was reported at a village some ten or twelve miles off +on the Shropshire border, where some shepherds had found her wandering +the hill. She was brought home but could give no good account of +herself, or would not. She said that she had followed her lover, +married him, and lost him. Nothing would comfort her, nothing could +keep her in the house. She was locked in, but made her way out; she +was presently sent to the lunatic asylum, but escaped from that. Then +she got away for good and all and never came back again. No trace of +her body could be found. What are you to make of a thing of the sort? +I give it for what it is worth, with this note only, that the +apparition was manifest to several persons, though not, I fancy, to +any but the girls concerned in the peascodding. + +[Footnote 13: It is said to have been the base of a Roman terminal +statue, but I have not seen it.] + +The Willow-lad's is another tale of the same kind. It was described in +1787 by the Reverend Samuel Jordan in the _Gentleman's Magazine_, if I +am not mistaken. + +The Willow-lad was an apparition which was believed to appear in a +withy-bed on the banks of the Ouse near Huntingdon. He could only be +seen at dusk, and only by women. He had a sinister reputation, and to +say of a girl that she had been to the withy-bed was a broad hint that +she was no better than she should be. Yet, according to Mr. Jordan, +the girls did go there in numbers, and to such effect that by an order +of the Town Council the place was stubbed up. You had to go alone to +the withy-bed between sunset and sunrise of a moonless night, to lay +your hand upon a certain stump and say, and in a loud voice:-- + + Willow-boy, Willow-boy, come to me soon, + After the sun and before the moon. + Hide the stars and cover my head; + Let no man see me when I be wed. + +One would like to know whether the Willow-lad's powers perished with +the withy-bed. They should not, but should have been turned to +malicious uses. There are many cases in Mr. Lawson's book of the +malefical effect upon the Dryads of cutting down the trees whose +spirit they are. And most people know Landor's idyll, or if they +don't, they should. + + * * * * * + +There are queer doings under the sun as well as under the moon. A man +may travel far without leaving his arm-chair by the fire, in countries +where no tourist-tickets obtain, and see stranger things than are +recorded by Herr Baedeker. + + The waies through which my weary steps I guide + In this delightful land of Faery + Are so exceeding spacious and wyde, + And sprinckled with such sweet variety + Of all that pleasant is to eare or eye, + That I, nigh ravisht with rare thoughts' delight, + My tedious travele doe forget thereby; + And when I gin to feele decay of might, + It strength to me supplies, and chears my dulléd spright. + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lore of Proserpine, by Maurice Hewlett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LORE OF PROSERPINE *** + +***** This file should be named 18730-0.txt or 18730-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/7/3/18730/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/18730-0.zip b/18730-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..86cf6ec --- /dev/null +++ b/18730-0.zip diff --git a/18730-8.txt b/18730-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f9056d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/18730-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5789 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lore of Proserpine, by Maurice Hewlett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Lore of Proserpine + +Author: Maurice Hewlett + +Release Date: July 1, 2006 [EBook #18730] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LORE OF PROSERPINE *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + LORE OF PROSERPINE + + + + BY + + MAURICE HEWLETT + + + + "Thus go the fairy kind, + Whither Fate driveth; not as we + Who fight with it, and deem us free + Therefore, and after pine, or strain + Against our prison bars in vain; + For to them Fate is Lord of Life + And Death, and idle is a strife + With such a master ..." + + _Hypsipyle_. + + + + CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + + NEW YORK : : : : 1913 + + + COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY + + CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + + * * * * * + +TO + +DESPOINA + +FROM WHOM, TO WHOM + +ALL + + * * * * * + + + + +PREFACE + + +I hope nobody will ask me whether the things in this book are true, +for it will then be my humiliating duty to reply that I don't know. +They seem to be so to me writing them; they seemed to be so when they +occurred, and one of them occurred only two or three years ago. That +sort of answer satisfies me, and is the only one I can make. As I grow +older it becomes more and more difficult to distinguish one kind of +appearance from another, and to say, that is real, and again, that is +illusion. Honestly, I meet in my daily walks innumerable beings, to +all sensible signs male and female. Some of them I can touch, some +smell, some speak with, some see, some discern otherwise than by +sight. But if you cannot trust your eyes, why should you trust your +nose or your fingers? There's my difficulty in talking about reality. + +There's another way of getting at the truth after all. If a thing is +not sensibly true it may be morally so. If it is not phenomenally true +it may be so substantially. And it is possible that one may see +substance in the idiom, so to speak, of the senses. That, I take it, +is how the Greeks saw thunder-storms and other huge convulsions; that +is how they saw meadow, grove and stream--in terms of their own fair +humanity. They saw such natural phenomena as shadows of spiritual +conflict or of spiritual calm, and within the appearance apprehended +the truth. So it may be that I have done. Some such may be the +explanation of all fairy experience. Let it be so. It is a fact, I +believe, that there is nothing revealed in this book which will not +bear a spiritual, and a moral, interpretation; and I venture to say of +some of it that the moral implications involved are exceedingly +momentous, and timely too. I need not refer to such matters any +further. If they don't speak for themselves they will get no help from +a preface. + +The book assumes up to a certain point an autobiographical cast. This +is not because I deem my actual life of any interest to any one but +myself, but because things do occur to one "in time," and the +chronological sequence is as good as another, and much the most easy +of any. I had intended, but my heart failed me, to pursue experience +to the end. There was to have been a section, to be called "Despoina," +dealing with my later life. But my heart failed me. The time is not +yet, though it is coming. I don't deny that there are some things here +which I learned from the being called Despoina and could have learned +from nobody else. There are some such things, but there is not very +much, and won't be any more just yet. Some of it there will never be +for the sorry reason that our race won't bear to be told fundamental +facts about itself, still less about other orders of creation which +are sufficiently like our own to bring self-consciousness into play. +To write of the sexes in English you must either be sentimental or a +satirist. You must set the emotions to work; otherwise you must be +quiet. Now the emotions have no business with knowledge; and there's a +reason why we have no fairy lore, because we can't keep our feelings +in hand. The Greeks had a mythology, the highest form of Art, and we +have none. Why is that? Because we can neither expound without wishing +to convert the soul, nor understand without self-experiment. We don't +want to know things, we want to feel them--and are ashamed of our +need. Mythology, therefore, we English must make for ourselves as we +can; and if we are wise we shall keep it to ourselves. It is a pity, +because since we alone of created things are not self-sufficient, +anything that seems to break down the walls of being behind which we +agonise would be a comfort to us; but there's a worse thing than being +in prison, and that is quarrelling with our own nature. + +I shall have explained myself very badly if my reader leaves me with +the impression that I have been writing down marvels. The fact that a +thing occurs in nature takes it out of the portentous. There's nothing +either good or bad but thinking makes it so. With that I end. + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PREFACE + +THE WINDOWS + +A BOY IN THE WOOD + +HARKNESS'S FANCY + +THE GODS IN THE SCHOOLHOUSE + +THE SOUL AT THE WINDOW + +QUIDNUNC + +THE SECRET COMMONWEALTH + +BECKWITH'S CASE + +THE FAIRY WIFE + +OREADS + +A SUMMARY CHAPTER + + * * * * * + + + + +LORE OF PROSERPINE + +THE WINDOWS + + +You will remember that Socrates considers every soul of us to be at +least three persons. He says, in a fine figure, that we are two horses +and a charioteer. "The right-hand horse is upright and cleanly made; +he has a lofty neck and an aquiline nose; his colour is white and his +eyes dark; he is a lover of honour and modesty and temperance, and the +follower of true glory; he needs no touch of the whip, but is guided +by word and admonition only. The other is a crooked lumbering animal, +put together anyhow; he has a short thick neck; he is flat-faced and +of a dark colour, with grey eyes of blood-red complexion; the mate of +insolence and pride, shag-eared and deaf, hardly yielding to whip and +spur." I need not go on to examine with the philosopher the acts of +this pair under the whip and spur of love, because I am not going to +talk about love. For my present purpose I shall suggest another +dichotomy. I will liken the soul itself of man to a house, divided +according to the modern fashion into three flats or apartments. Of +these the second floor is occupied by the landlord, who wishes to be +quiet, and is not, it seems, afraid of fire; the ground-floor by a +business man who would like to marry, but doubts if he can afford it, +goes to the city every day, looks in at his club of an afternoon, +dines out a good deal, and spends at least a month of the year at +Dieppe, Harrogate, or one of the German spas. He is a pleasant-faced +man, as I see him, neatly dressed, brushed, anointed, polished at the +extremities--for his boots vie with his hair in this particular. If he +has a fault it is that of jingling half-crowns in his trouser-pocket; +but he works hard for them, pays his rent with them, and gives one +occasionally to a nephew. That youth, at any rate, likes the cheerful +sound. He is rather fond, too, of monopolising the front of the fire +in company, and thinks more of what he is going to eat, some time +before he eats it, than a man should. But really I can't accuse him of +anything worse than such little weaknesses. The first floor is +occupied by a person of whom very little is known, who goes out +chiefly at night and is hardly ever seen during the day. Tradesmen, +and the crossing-sweeper at the corner, have caught a glimpse on rare +occasions of a white face at the window, the startled face of a queer +creature, who blinks and wrings at his nails with his teeth; who +peers at you, jerks and grins; who seems uncertain what to do; who +sometimes shoots out his hands as if he would drive them through the +glass: altogether a mischancy, unaccountable apparition, probably mad. +Nobody knows how long he has been here; for the landlord found him in +possession when he bought the lease, and the ground-floor, who was +here also, fancies that they came together, but can't be sure. There +he is, anyhow, and without an open scandal one doesn't like to give +him notice. A curious thing about the man is that neither landlord nor +ground-floor will admit acquaintance with him to each other, although, +if the truth were known, each of them knows something--for each of +them has been through his door; and I will answer for one of them, at +least, that he has accompanied the Undesirable upon more than one +midnight excursion, and has enjoyed himself enormously. If you could +get either of these two alone in a confidential mood you might learn +some curious particulars of their coy neighbour; and not the least +curious would be the effect of his changing the glass of the first +floor windows. It seems that he had that done directly he got into his +rooms, saying that it was impossible to see out of such windows, and +that a man must have light. Where he got his glass from, by whom it +was fitted, I can't tell you, but the effect of it is most +extraordinary. The only summary account I feel able to give of it at +the moment is that it transforms the world upon which it opens. You +look out upon a new earth, literally that. The trees are not trees at +all, but slim grey persons, young men, young women, who stand there +quivering with life, like a row of Caryatides--on duty, but tiptoe for +a flight, as Keats says. You see life, as it were, rippling up their +limbs; for though they appear to be clothed, their clothing is of so +thin a texture, and clings so closely that they might as well not be +clothed at all. They are eyed, they see intensely; they look at each +other so closely that you know what they would be doing. You can see +them love each other as you watch. As for the people in the street, +the real men and real women, as we say, I hardly know how to tell you +what they look like through the first floor's windows. They are +changed of everything but one thing. They occupy the places, fill the +standing-room of our neighbours and friends; there is a something +about them all by which you recognise them--a trick of the hand, a +motion of the body, a set of the head (God knows what it is, how +little and how much); but for all that--a new creature! A thing like +nothing that lives by bread! Now just look at that policeman at the +corner, for instance; not only is he stark naked--everybody is like +that--but he's perfectly different from the sturdy, good-humoured, +red-faced, puzzled man you and I know. He is thin, woefully thin, and +his ears are long and perpetually twitching. He pricks them up at the +least thing; or lays them suddenly back, and we see them trembling. +His eyes look all ways and sometimes nothing but the white is to be +seen. He has a tail, too, long and leathery, which is always curling +about to get hold of something. Now it will be the lamp-post, now the +square railings, now one of those breathing trees; but mostly it is +one of his own legs. Yet if you consider him carefully you will agree +with me that his tail is a more expressive remnant of the man you have +always seen there than any other part of him. You may say, and truly, +that it is the only recognisable thing left. What do you think of his +feet and hands? They startled me at first; they are so long and +narrow, so bony and pointed, covered with fine short hair which shines +like satin. That way he has of arching his feet and driving his toes +into the pavement delights me. And see, too, that his hands are +undistinguishable from feet: they are just as long and satiny. He is +fond of smoothing his face with them; he brings them both up to his +ears and works them forward like slow fans. Transformation indeed. I +defy you to recognise him for the same man--except for a faint +reminiscence about his tail. + +But all's of a piece. The crossing-sweeper now has shaggy legs which +end in hoofs. His way of looking at young people is very +unpleasant;--and one had always thought him such a kindly old man. The +butcher's boy--what a torso!--is walking with his arm round the waist +of the young lady in Number seven. These are lovers, you see; but it's +mostly on her side. He tilts up her chin and gives her a kiss before +he goes; and she stands looking after him with shining eyes, hoping +that he will turn round before he gets to the corner. But he doesn't. + +Wait, now, wait, wait--who is this lovely, straining, beating creature +darting here and there about the square, bruising herself, poor +beautiful thing, against the railings? A sylph, a caught fairy? +Surely, surely, I know somebody--is it?--It can't be. That careworn +lady? God in Heaven, is it she? Enough! Show me no more. I will show +you no more, my dear sir, if it agitates you; but I confess that I +have come to regard it as one of the most interesting spectacles in +London. The mere information--to say nothing of the amusement--which I +have derived from it would fill a volume; but if it did, I may add, I +myself should undoubtedly fill a cell in Holloway. I will therefore +spare you what I know about the Doctor's wife, and what happens to +Lieutenant-Colonel Storter when I see him through these windows--I +could never have believed it unless I had seen it. These things are +not done, I know; but observed in this medium they seem quite +ordinary. Lastly--for I can't go through the catalogue--I will speak +of the air as I see it from here. My dear sir, the air is alive, +thronged with life. Spirits, forms, lovely immaterial diaphanous +shapes, are weaving endless patterns over the face of the day. They +shine like salmon at a weir, or they darken the sky as redwings in the +autumn fields; they circle, shrieking as they flash, like swallows at +evening; they battle and wrangle together; or they join hands and +whirl about the square in an endless chain. Of their beauty, their +grace of form and movement, of the shifting filmy colour, hue blending +in hue, of their swiftness, their glancing eyes, their exuberant joy +or grief I cannot now speak. Beside them one man may well seem rat, +and another goat. Beside them, indeed, you look for nothing else. And +if I go on to hint that the owner of these windows is of them, though +imprisoned in my house; that he does at times join them in their +streaming flights beyond the housetops, and does at times carry with +him his half-bewildered, half-shocked and wholly delighted fellow +lodgers, I have come to the end of my tether and your credulity, and, +for the time at least, have flowered myself to death. The figure is as +good as Plato's though my Pegasus will never stable in his stall. + + * * * * * + +We may believe ourselves to be two persons, at least, in one, and I +fancy that one at least of them is a constant. So far as my own pair +is concerned, either one of them has never grown up at all, or he was +born whole and in a flash, as the fairies are. Such as he was, at any +rate, when I was ten years old, such he is now when I am heavily more +than ten; and the other of us, very conscious of the flight of time +and of other things with it, is free to confess that he has little +more hold of his fellow with all this authority behind him than he had +when we commenced partnership. He has some, and thinks himself lucky, +since the bond between the pair is of such a nature as to involve a +real partnership--a partnership full of perplexity to the working +member of it, the ordinary forensic creature of senses, passions, +ambitions, and self-indulgences, the eating, sleeping, vainglorious, +assertive male of common experience--and it is not to be denied that +it has been fruitful, nor again that by some freak of fate or fortune +the house has kept a decent front to the world at large. It is still +solvent, still favourably regarded by the police. It is not, it never +will be, a mere cage of demons; its walls have not been fretted to +transparency; no passing eye can detect revelry behind its decent +stucco; no passing ear thrill to cries out of the dark. No, no. +Troubles we may have; but we keep up appearances. The heart knoweth +its own bitterness, and if it be a wise one, keepeth it to itself. I +am not going to be so foolish as to deny divergences of opinion, even +of practice, between the pair in me; but I flatter myself that I have +not allowed them to become a common nuisance, a cause of scandal, a +stumbling-block, a rock of offence, or anything of that kind. Uneasy +tenant, wayward partner as my recondite may be, he has had a +relationship with my forensic which at times has touched cordiality. +Influential he has not been, for his colleague has always had the +upper hand and been in the public eye. He may have instigated to +mischief, but has not often been allowed to complete his purpose. If I +am a respectable person it is not his fault. He seeks no man's +respect. If he has occasionally lent himself to moral ends, it has +been without enthusiasm, for he has no morals of his own, and never +did have any. On the other hand, he is by nature too indifferent to +temporal circumstances to go about to corrupt his partner. His main +desire has ever been to be let alone. Anything which tended to tighten +the bonds which held him to his co-tenant would have been a thing to +avoid. He desires liberty, and nothing less will content him. This he +will only have by inaction, by mewing his sempiternal youth in his +cage and on his perch. + +But the tie uniting the pair of us is of such a nature that neither +can be uninfluenced by the other. It is just that you should hear both +sides of the case. My forensic, eating and arguing self has bullied my +other into hypocrisy over and over again. He has starved him, deprived +him of his holidays, ignored him, ridiculed him, snubbed him +mercilessly. This is severe treatment, you'll allow, and it's worse +even than it seems. For the unconscionable fellow, owing to this +coheirship which he pretends to disesteem, has been made privy to +experiences which must not only have been extraordinary to so plain +and humdrum a person, but which have been, as I happen to know, of +great importance to him, and which--to put the thing at its +highest--have lifted him, dull dog as he is, into regions where the +very dogs have wings. Out upon it! But he has been in and out with his +victim over leagues of space where not one man in ten thousand has +been privileged to fare. He has been familiar all his life with +scenes, with folk, with deeds undreamed of by thirty-nine and +three-quarters out of forty millions of people, and by that +quarter-million only known as nursery tales. Not only so, but he has +been awakened to the significance of common things, having at hand an +interpreter, and been enabled to be precise where Wordsworth was +vague. He has known Zeus in the thunder, in the lightning beheld the +shaking of the dread gis. In the river source he has seen the +breasted nymph; he has seen the Oreads stream over the bare hillside. +There are men who see these things and don't believe them, others who +believe but don't see. He has both seen and believed. The painted, +figured universe has for him a new shape; whispering winds and falling +rain speak plainly to his understanding. He has seen trees as men +walking. His helot has unlocked the world behind appearance and made +him free of the Spirits of Natural Fact who abide there. If he is not +the debtor of his comrade--and he protests the debt--he should be. But +the rascal laps it all up, as a cat porridge, without so much as a wag +of the tail for Thank-you. Such are the exorbitant overlords in mortal +men, who pass for reputable persons, with a chief seat at feasts. + +Such things, you may say, read incredibly, but, _mutatis mutandis_, I +believe them to be common, though unrecorded, experience. I deprecate +in advance questions designed to test the accuracy of my eyesight or +the ingenuous habit of my pen. I have already declared that the +windows of my first-floor lodger are of such properties that they +show you, in Xenophon's phrase, [Greek: ta onta te s onta, kai ta m +onta s ouk onta]. Now consider it from his side. If I were to tell +the owner of those windows that I saw the policeman at the corner, a +helmeted, blue-tunicked, chin-scratching, ponderous man, some six foot +in his boots, how would he take it? Would he not mock me? What, that +rat? Ridiculous! And what on earth could I reply? I tell you, the +whole affair is one of windows, or, sometimes, of personally-conducted +travel; and who is Guide and who Guided, is one of those nice +questions in psychology which perhaps we are not yet ready to handle. +Of the many speculations as to the nature of the subliminal Self I +have never found one to be that he may be a fairy prisoner, +occasionally on parole. But I think that not at all unlikely. May not +metempsychosis be a scourge of two worlds? If the soul of my grandam +might fitly inhabit a bird, might not a Fairy ruefully inhabit the +person of my grandam? If Fairy Godmothers, perchance, were Fairy +Grandmothers! I have some evidence to place before the reader which +may induce him to consider this hypothesis. Who can doubt, at least, +that Shelley's was not a case where the not-human was a prisoner in +the human? Who can doubt that of Blake's? And what was the result, +forensically? Shelley was treated as a scoundrel and Blake as a +madman. Shelley, it was said, broke the moral law, and Blake +transcended common sense; but the first, I reply, was in the guidance +of a being to whom the laws of this world and the accidents of it +meant nothing at all; and to the second a wisdom stood revealed which +to human eyes was foolishness. Windows! In either case there was a +martyrdom, and human exasperation appeased by much broken glass. Let +us not, however, condemn the wreckers of windows. Who is to judge even +them? Who is to say even of their harsh and cruel reprisals that they +were not excusable? May not they too have been ridden by some wild +spirit within them, which goaded them to their beastly work? But if +the acceptance of the doctrine of multiple personality is going to +involve me in the reconsideration of criminal jurisprudence, I must +close this essay. + +I will close it with the sentence of another philosopher who has +considered deeply of these questions. "It is to be observed," he says, +"that the laws of human conduct are precisely made for the conduct of +this world of Men, in which we live, breed, and pay rent. They do not +affect the Kingdom of the Dogs, nor that of the Fishes; by a parity of +reasoning they need not be supposed to obtain in the Kingdom of +Heaven, in which the schoolmen discovered the citizens dwelling in +nine spheres, apart from the blessed immigrants, whose privileges did +not extend so near to the Heart of the Presence. How many realms there +may be between mankind's and that ultimate object of pure desire +cannot at present be known, but it may be affirmed with confidence +that any denizen of any one of them, brought into relation with human +beings, would act, and reasonably act, in ways which to men might seem +harsh and unconscionable, without sanction or convenience. Such a +being might murder one of the ratepayers of London, compound a felony, +or enter into a conspiracy to depose the King himself, and, being +detected, very properly be put under restraint, or visited with +chastisement, either deterrent or vindictive, or both. But the true +inference from the premises would be that although duress or +banishment from the kingdom might be essential, yet punishment, +so-called, ought not to be visited upon the offender. For he or she +could not be _nostri juris_, and that which were abominable to us +might well be reasonable to him or her, and indeed a fulfilment of the +law of his being. Punishment, therefore, could not be exemplary, since +the person punished exemplified nothing to Mankind; and if vindictive, +then would be shocking, since that which is vindicated, in the mind +of the victim either did not exist, or ought not. The Ancient Greek +who withheld from the sacrifice to Showery Zeus because a thunder-bolt +destroyed his hayrick, or the Egyptian who manumitted his slaves +because a God took the life of his eldest son, was neither a pious, +nor a reasonable person." + +There is much debatable matter in this considered opinion. + + + + +A BOY IN THE WOOD + + +I had many bad qualities as a child, of which I need mention only +three. I was moody, irresolute, and hatefully reserved. Fate had +already placed me the eldest by three years of a large family. Add to +the eminence thus attained intentions which varied from hour to hour, +a will so little in accordance with desire that I had rather give up a +cherished plan than fight for it, and a secretive faculty equalled +only by the magpie, and you will not wonder when I affirm that I lived +alone in a household of a dozen friendly persons. As a set-off and +consolation to myself I had very strongly the power of impersonation. +I could be within my own little entity a dozen different people in a +day, and live a life thronged with these companions or rivals; and yet +this set me more solitary than ever, for I could never appear in any +one of my characters to anybody else. But alone and apart, what worlds +I inhabited! Worlds of fact and worlds of fiction. At nine years old I +knew Nelson's ardour and Wellesley's phlegm; I had Napoleon's egotism, +Galahad's purity, Lancelot's passion, Tristram's melancholy. I +reasoned like Socrates and made Phdo weep; I persuaded like Saint +Paul and saw the throng on Mars' Hill sway to my words. I was by turns +Don Juan and Don Quixote, Tom Jones and Mr. Allworthy, Hamlet and his +uncle, young Shandy and his. You will gather that I was a reader. I +was, and the people of my books stepped out of their pages and +inhabited me. Or, to change the figure, I found in every book an open +door, and went in and dwelt in its world. Thus I lived a thronged and +busy life, a secret life, full of terror, triumph, wonder, frantic +enterprise, a noble and gallant figure among my peers, while to my +parents, brothers and sisters I was an incalculable, fitful creature, +often lethargic and often in the sulks. They saw me mooning in +idleness and were revolted; or I walked dully the way I was bid and +they despaired of my parts. I could not explain myself to them, still +less justify, having that miserable veil of reserve close over my +mouth, like a yashmak. To my father I could not speak, to my mother I +did not; the others, being my juniors all, hardly existed. Who is to +declare the motives of a child's mind? What was the nature of this +reticence? Was it that my real habit was reverie? Was it, as I +suspect, that constitutional timidity made me diffident? I was a +coward, I am very sure, for I was always highly imaginative. Was it, +finally, that I was dimly conscious of matters which I despaired of +putting clearly? Who can say? And who can tell me now whether I was +cursed or blessed? Certainly, if it had been possible to any person my +senior to share with me my daily adventures, I might have conquered +the cowardice from which I suffered such terrible reverses. But it was +not. I was the eldest of a large family, and apparently the easiest to +deal with of any of it. I was what they call a tractable child, being, +in fact, too little interested in the world as it was to resent any +duties cast upon me. It was not so with the others. They were +high-spirited little creatures, as often in mischief as not, and +demanded much more pains then I ever did. What they demanded they got, +what I did not demand I got not: "Lo, here is alle! What shold I more +seye?" + +How it was that, taking no interest in my actual surroundings, I +became aware of unusual things behind them I cannot understand. It is +very difficult to differentiate between what I imagined and what I +actually perceived. It was a favourite string of my poor father's +plaintive lyre that I had no eyes. He was a great walker, a poet, and +a student of nature. Every Sunday of his life he took me and my +brother for a long tramp over the country, the intense spiritual +fatigue of which exercise I should never be able to describe. I have a +sinking of the heart, even now, when I recall our setting out. +Intolerable labour! I saw nothing and said nothing. I did nothing but +plug one dull foot after the other. I felt like some chained slave +going to the hulks, and can well imagine that my companions must have +been very much aware of it. My brother, whose nature was much happier +than mine, who dreamed much less and observed much more, was the life +of these woeful excursions. Without him I don't think that my father +could have endured them. At any rate, he never did. I amazed, +irritated, and confounded him at most times, but in nothing more than +my apathy to what enchanted him.[1] The birds, the flowers, the trees, +the waters did not exist for me in my youth. The world for me was +uninhabited, a great empty cage. People passed us, or stood at their +doorways watching us, but I never saw them. If by chance I descried +somebody coming whom it would be necessary to salute, or to whom I +might have to speak, I turned aside to avoid them. I was not only shy +to a fault, as a diffident child must be, but the world of sense +either did not exist for me or was thrust upon me to my discomfort. +And yet all the while, as I moved or sat, I was surrounded by a stream +of being, of infinite constituents, aware of them to this extent that +I could converse with them without sight or speech. I knew they were +there, I knew them singing, whispering, screaming. They filled my +understanding not my senses. I did not see them but I felt them. I +knew not what they said or sang, but had always the general sense of +their thronging neighbourhood. + +[Footnote 1: And me also when I was enabled at a later day to perceive +them. I am thankful to remember and record for my own comfort that +that day came not too late for my enchantment to overtake his and +proceed in company.] + +I enlarge upon this because I think it justifies me in adding that, +observing so little, what I did observe with my bodily eyes must +almost certainly have been observable. But now let the reader judge. + +The first time I ever saw a creature which was really outside ordinary +experience was in the late autumn of my twelfth year. My brother, next +in age to me, was nine, my eldest sister eight. We three had been out +walking with our mother, and were now returning at dusk to our tea +through a wood which covered the top of a chalk down. I remember +vividly the scene. The carpet of drenched leaves under bare branches, +the thin spear-like shafts of the underwood, the grey lights between, +the pale frosty sky overhead with the sickle moon low down in it. I +remember, too, various sensations, such as the sudden chill which +affected me as the crimson globe of the sun disappeared; and again +how, when we emerged from the wood, I was enheartened by the sight of +the village shrouded under chimney smoke and by the one or two +twinkling lights dotted here and there about the dim wolds. + +In the wood it was already twilight and very damp. Perhaps I had been +tired, more likely bored--as I always was when I was not being +somebody else. I remember that I had found the path interminable. I +had been silent, as I mostly was, while the other two had chattered +and played about our mother; and when presently I stayed behind for a +purpose I remember that I made no effort to catch them up. I knew the +way perfectly, of course, and had no fear of the dark. Oddly enough I +had no fear of that. I was far less imaginative in the night than in +the day. Besides that, by the time I was ready to go after them I had +much else to think of. + +I must have been looking at him for some time before I made out that +he was there. So you may peer into a thicket a hundred times and see +nothing, and then a trick of the light or a flutter of the mood and +you see creatures where you had been sure was nothing. As children +will, I had stayed longer than I need, looking and wondering into the +wood, not observing but yet absorbing the effects of the lights and +shades. The trees were sapling chestnuts if I am not mistaken, Spanish +chestnuts, and used for hop-poles in those parts. Their leaves decay +gradually, the fleshy part, so to speak, dropping away from the +articulation till at last bleached skeleton leaves remain and flicker +at every sigh of the wind. The ground was densely carpeted with other +leaves in the same state, or about to become so. The silver grey was +cross-hatched by the purple lines of the serried stems, and as the +view receded this dipped into blue and there lost itself. It was very +quiet--a windless fall of the light. To-day I should find it most +beautiful; and even then, I suspect, I felt its beauty without knowing +it to be so. Looking into it all without realising it, I presently and +gradually did realise something else: a shape, a creature, a thing of +form and pressure--not a wraith, not, I am quite certain, a trick of +the senses. + +It was under a clump of the chestnut stems, kneeling and sitting on +its heels, and it was watching me with the bright, quick eyes of a +mouse. If I were to say that my first thought was of some peering and +waiting animal, I should go on to qualify the thought by reference to +the creature's eyes. They were eyes which, like all animals', could +only express one thing at a time. They expressed now attention, the +closest: not fear, not surprise, not apprehension of anything that I +might be meditating against their peace, but simply minute attention. +The absence of fear, no doubt, marked their owner off from the animals +of common acquaintance; but the fact that they did not at the same +time express the being itself showed him to be different from our +human breed. For whatever else the human pair of eyes may reveal, it +reveals the looker. + +The eyes of this creature revealed nothing of itself except that it +was watching me narrowly. I could not even be sure of its sex, though +I believe it to have been a male, and shall hereafter treat of it as +such. I could see that he was young; I thought about my own age. He +was very pale, without being at all sickly--indeed, health and vigour +and extreme vivacity were implicit in every line and expressed in +every act; he was clear-skinned, but almost colourless. The shadow +under his chin, I remember, was bluish. His eyes were round, when not +narrowed by that closeness of his scrutiny of me, and though probably +brown, showed to be all black, with pupil indistinguishable from iris. +The effect upon me was of black, vivid black, unintelligent +eyes--which see intensely but cannot translate. His hair was dense and +rather long. It covered his ears and touched his shoulders. It was +pushed from his forehead sideways in a thick, in a solid fold, as if +it had been the corner of a frieze cape thrown back. It was dark hair, +but not black; his neck was very thin. I don't know how he was +dressed--I never noticed such things; but in colour he must have been +inconspicuous, since I had been looking at him for a good time without +seeing him at all. A sleeveless tunic, I think, which may have been +brown, or grey, or silver-white. I don't know. But his knees were +bare--that I remember; and his arms were bare from the shoulder. + +I standing, he squatting on his heels, the pair of us looked full at +one another. I was not frightened, no more was he. I was excited, and +full of interest; so, I think, was he. My heart beat double time. Then +I saw, with a curious excitement, that between his knees he held a +rabbit, and that with his left hand he had it by the throat. Now, what +is extraordinary to me about this discovery is that there was nothing +shocking in it. + +I saw the rabbit's wild and panic-blown eye, I saw the bright white +rim of it, and recognised its little added terror of me even in the +midst of its anguish. That must have been the conventional fright of a +beast of chase, an instinct to fear rather than an emotion; for of +emotions the poor thing must have been having its fill. It was not +till I saw its mouth horribly open, its lips curled back to show its +shelving teeth that I could have guessed at what it was suffering. But +gradually I apprehended what was being done. Its captor was squeezing +its throat. I saw what I had never seen before, and have never seen +since, I saw its tongue like a pale pink petal of a flower dart out as +the pressure drove it. Revolting sight as that would have been to me, +witnessed in the world, here, in this dark wood, in this outland +presence, it was nothing but curious. Now, as I watched and wondered, +the being, following my eyes' direction, looked down at the huddled +thing between his thighs, and just as children squeeze a snap-dragon +flower to make it open and shut its mouth, so precisely did he, +pressing or releasing the windpipe, cause that poor beast to throw +back its lips and dart its dry tongue. He did this many times while he +watched it; and when he looked up at me again, and while he continued +to look at me, I saw that his cruel fingers, as by habit, continued +the torture, and that in some way he derived pleasure from the +performance--as if it gratified him to be sure that effect was +following on cause inevitably. + +I have never, I believe, been cruel to an animal in my life. I hated +cruelty then as I hate it now. I have always shirked the sight of +anything in pain from my childhood onwards. Yet the fact is that not +only did I nothing to interfere in what I saw going on, but that I +was deeply interested and absorbed in it. I can only explain that to +myself now, by supposing that I knew then, that the creature in front +of me was not of my own kind, and was not, in fact, outraging any law +of its own being. Is not that possible? May I not have collected +unawares so much out of created nature? I am unable to say: all I am +clear about is that here was a thing in the semblance of a boy doing +what I had never observed a boy do, and what if I ever had observed a +boy do, would have flung me into a transport of rage and grief. Here, +therefore, was a thing in the semblance of a boy who was no boy at +all. So much must have been as certain to me then as it is +indisputable now. + +One doesn't, at that age, reason things out; one knows them, and is +dumb, though unconvinced, before powerful syllogisms to the contrary. +All children are so, confronted by strange phenomena. And yet I had +facts to go upon if, child as I was, I had been capable of inference. +I need only mention one. If this creature had been human, upon seeing +that I was conscious of its behaviour to the rabbit, it would either +have stopped the moment it perceived that I did not approve or was not +amused, or it would have continued deliberately out of bravado. But it +neither stopped nor hardily continued. It watched its experiment with +interest for a little, then, finding me more interesting, did not +discontinue it, but ceased to watch it. He went on with it +mechanically, dreamingly, as if to the excitation of some other sense +than sight, that of feeling, for instance. He went on lasciviously, +for the sake of the pleasure so to be had. In other words, being +without self-consciousness and ignorant of shame, he must have been +non-human. + +After all, too, it must be owned that I cannot have been confronted by +the appearance for more than a few minutes. Allow me three to have been +spent before I was aware of him, three more will be the outside I can +have passed gazing at him. But I speak of "minutes," of course, +referring to my ostensible self, that inert, apathetic child who +followed its mother, that purblind creature through whose muddy lenses +the pent immortal had been forced to see his familiar in the wood, and +perchance to dress in form and body what, for him, needed neither to be +visible. It was this outward self which was now driven by circumstances +to resume command--the command which for "three minutes" by his +reckoning he had relinquished. Both of us, no doubt, had been much +longer there had we not been interrupted. A woodman, homing from his +work, came heavily up the path, and like a guilty detected rogue I +turned to run and took my incorruptible with me. Not until I had passed +the man did I think to look back. The partner of my secret was not then +to be seen. Out of sight out of mind is the way of children. Out of +mind, then, withdrew my incorruptible. I hurried on, ran, and overtook +my party half-way down the bare hillside. I still remember the feeling +of relief with which I swept into the light, felt the cold air on my +cheeks, and saw the intimacy of the village open out below me. I am +almost sure that my eyes held tears at the assurance of the sweet, +familiar things which I knew and could love. There, literally, were my +own people: that which I had left behind must be unlawful because it was +so strange. In the warmth and plenty of the lighted house, by the +schoolroom table, before the cosily covered teapot, amid the high talk, +the hot toast and the jam, my experience in the dusky wood seemed +unreal, lawless, almost too terrible to be remembered--never, never to +be named. It haunted me for many days, and gave rise to curious +wonderings now and then. As I passed the patient, humble beasts of +common experience--a carter's team nodding, jingling its brasses, a +donkey, patient, humble, hobbled in a paddock, dogs sniffing each other, +a cat tucked into a cottage window, I mused doubtfully and often whether +we had touched the threshold of the heart of their mystery. But for the +most part, being constitutionally timid, I was resolute to put the +experience out of mind. When next I chanced to go through the wood there +is no doubt I peered askance to right and left among the trees; but I +took good care not to desert my companions. That which I had seen was +unaccountable, therefore out of bounds. But though I never saw him there +again I have never forgotten him. + + + + +HARKNESS'S FANCY + + +I may have been a precocious child, but I cannot tell within a year or +two how soon it was that I attained manhood. There must have been a +moment of time when I clothed myself in skins, like Adam; when I knew +what this world calls good and evil--by which this world means nothing +more nor less than men and women, and chiefly women, I think. Savage +peoples initiate their young and teach them the taboos of society by +stripes. We allow our issue to gash themselves. By stripes, then, upon +my young flesh, I scored up this lesson for myself. Certain things were +never to be spoken of, certain things never to be looked at in certain +ways, certain things never to be done consciously, or for the pleasure +to be got out of them. One stepped out of childish conventions into +mannish conventions, and did so, certainly, without any instruction from +outside. I remember, for instance, that, as children, it was a rigid +part of our belief that our father was the handsomest man in the +world--handsome was the word. In the same way our mother was by +prerogative the most beautiful woman. If some hero flashed upon our +scene--Garibaldi, Lancelot of the Lake, or another--the greatest praise +we could possibly have given him for beauty, excellence, courage, or +manly worth would have put him second to our father. So also Helen of +Sparta and Beatrice of Florence gave way. That was the law of the +nursery, rigid and never to be questioned until unconsciously I grew out +of it, and becoming a man, put upon me the panoply of manly eyes. I now +accepted it that to kiss my sister was nothing, but that to kiss her +friend would be very wicked. I discovered that there were two ways of +looking at a young woman, and two ways of thinking about her. I +discovered that it was lawful to have some kinds of appetite, and to +take pleasure in food, exercise, sleep, warmth, cold water, hot water, +the smell of flowers, and quite unlawful so much as to think of, or to +admit to myself the existence of other kinds of appetite. I discovered, +in fact, that love was a shameful thing, that if one was in love one +concealed it from the world, and, above all the world, from the object +of one's love. The conviction was probably instinctive, for one is not +the descendant of puritans for nothing; but the discovery of it is +another matter. Attendance at school and the continuous reading of +romance were partly responsible for that; physical development clinched +the affair, I was in all respects mature at thirteen, though my courage +(to use the word in Chaucer's sense) was not equal to my ability. I had +more than usual diffidence against me, more than usual reserve; and +self-consciousness, from which I have only lately escaped, grew upon me +hand in hand with experience. + +But being now become a day-scholar at the Grammar School, and thrown +whether I would or not among other boys of my own age, I sank my +recondite self deeply under the folds of my quickened senses. I became +aware of a world which was not his world at all. I watched, I heard, I +judged, I studied intently my comrades; and while in secret I shared +their own hardy lives, I was more than content to appear a cipher +among them. I had no friends and made none. All my comradeship with my +school-mates took place in my head, for however salient in mood or +inclination I may have been I was a laggard in action. In company I +was lower than the least of them; in my solitude, at their head I +captured the universe. Daily, to and fro, for two or three years I +journeyed between my home and this school, with a couple of two-mile +walks and a couple of train journeys to be got through in all weathers +and all conditions of light. I saw little or nothing of my +school-fellows out of hours, and lived all my play-time, if you can so +call it, intensely alone with the people of my imagination--to whose +number I could now add gleanings from the Grammar School. + +I don't claim objective reality for any of these; I am sure that they +were of my own making. Though unseen beings throng round us all, +though as a child I had been conscious of them, though I had actually +seen one, in these first school years of mine the machinery I had for +seeing the usually unseen was eclipsed; my recondite self was fast in +his _cachot_--and I didn't know that he was there! But one may imagine +fairies enough out of one's reading, and going beyond that, using it +as a spring-board, advance in the work of creation from realising to +begetting. So it was with me. The _Faerie Queen_ was as familiar as +the Latin Primer ought to have been. I had much of Mallory by heart--a +book full of magic. Forth of his pages stepped men-at-arms and damsels +the moment I was alone, and held me company for as long as I would. +The persons of Homer's music came next to them. I was Hector and held +Andromache to my heart. I kissed her farewell when I went forth to +school, and hurried home at night from the station, impatient for her +arms. I was never Paris, and had only awe of Helen. Even then I dimly +guessed her divinity, that godhead which the supremest beauty really +is. But I was often Odysseus the much-enduring, and very well +acquainted with the wiles of Calypso. Next in power of enchantment +came certainly Don Quixote, in whose lank bones I was often encased. +Dulcinea's charm was very real to me. I revelled in her honeyed name. +I was Don Juan too, and I was Tom Jones; but my most natural +impersonation in those years was Tristram. The luxury of that +champion's sorrows had a swooning sweetness of their own of which I +never tired. Iseult meant nothing. I cared nothing for her. I was +enamoured of the hero, and saw myself drenched in his passion. Like +Narcissus in the fable, I loved myself, and saw myself, in Tristram's +form, the most beautiful and the most beloved of beings. + +Chivalry and Romance chained me at that time and not the supernatural. +The fairy adventures of the heroes of my love swept by me untouched. +Morgan le Fay, Britomart, Vivien, Nimue, Merlin did not convince me; +they were picturesque conventions whose decorative quality I felt, +while so far as I was concerned they were garniture or apparatus. And +yet the fruitful meadows through which I took my daily way were as +forests to me; the grass-stems spired up to my fired fancy like great +trees. Among them I used to minish myself to the size of an ant and +become a pioneer hewing out a pathway through virgin thickets. I had +my ears alert for the sound of a horn, of a galloping horse, of the +Questing Beast and hounds in full cry. But I never looked to encounter +a fairy in these most fairy solitudes. Beleaguered ladies, +knights-errant, dwarfs, churls, fiends of hell, leaping like flames +out of pits in the ground: all these, but no fairies. It's very odd +that having seen the reality and devoured the fictitious, I should +have had zest for neither, but so it is. + +As for my school-mates, though I had very little to say to them, or +they to me, I used to watch them very closely, and, as I have said, +came to weave them into my dreams. Some figured as heroes, some as +magnanimous allies, some as malignant enemies, some who struck me as +beautiful received of me the kind of idolatry, the insensate +self-surrender which creatures of my sort have always offered up to +beauty of any sort. I remember T----e, a very shapely and +distinguished youth. I worshipped him as a god, and have seen him +since--alas! I remember B---- also, a tall, lean, loose-limbed young +man. He was a great cricketer, a good-natured, sleepy giant, perfectly +stupid (I am sure) but with marks of breed about him which I could not +possibly mistake. Him, too, I enthroned upon my temple-frieze; he +would have figured there as Meleager had I been a few years older. As +it was, he rode a blazoned charger, all black, and feutred his lance +with the Knights of King Arthur's court. Then there was H----n, a +good-looking, good-natured boy, and T----r, another. Many and many a +day did they ride forth with me adventuring--that is, spiritually they +did so; physically speaking, I had no scot or lot with them. We were +in plate armour, visored and beplumed. We slung our storied shields +behind us; we had our spears at rest; we laughed, told tales, sang as +we went through the glades of the forest, down the rutted +charcoal-burner's track, and came to the black mere, where there lay a +barge with oars among the reeds. I can see, now, H----n throw up his +head, bared to the sky and slanting sun. He had thick and dark curly +hair and a very white neck. His name of chivalry was Sagramor. T----r +was of stouter build and less salient humour. He was Bors, a brother +of Lancelot's. I, who was moody, here as in waking life, was Tristram, +more often Tramtris. + +Of other more sinister figures I remember two. R----s, who bullied me +until I was provoked at last into facing him; a greedy, pale, +lecherous boy, graceless, a liar, but extremely clever. I had a horror +of him which endures now. If he, as I have, had a dweller in the deeps +of him, his must have been a satyr. I cannot doubt it now. Disastrous +ally for mortal man! Vice sat upon his face like a grease; vice made +his fingers quick. He had a lickorous tongue and a taste for sweet +things which even then made me sick. So repulsive was he to me, so +impressed upon my fancy, that it was curious he did not haunt my inner +life. But I never met him there. No shape of his ever encountered me +in the wilds and solitary places. In the manifest world he afflicted +me to an extent which the rogue-fairy in the wood could never have +approached. Perhaps it was that all my being was forearmed against +him, and that I fought him off. At any rate he never trespassed in my +preserves. + +The other was R----d, a bleared and diseased creature, a thing of pity +and terror to the wholesome, one of those outcasts of the world which +every school has to know and reckon with. A furtive, nail-bitten, +pick-nose wretch with an unholy hunger for ink, earth-worms and the +like. What terrible tenant do the likes of these carry about with +them! He, too, haunted me, but not fearfully; but he, too, I now +understand too well, was haunted and ridden to doom. I pitied him, +tried to be kind to him, tried to treat him as the human thing which +in some sort he was. I discovered that when he was interested he +forgot his loathsome cravings, and became almost lovable. I went home +with him once, to a mean house in ----. He took me into the backyard +and showed me his treasury--half a dozen rabbits, as many guinea-pigs, +and a raven with a bald head. He was all kindness to these prisoners, +fondled them with hands and voice, spoke a kind of inarticulate baby +language to them, and gave them pet names. He forgot his misery, his +poverty--I remember that he never had a handkerchief and always wanted +one, that his jacket-sleeves were near his elbow, and that his wrist +bones were red and broken. But now there shone a clear light in his +eye; he could face the world as he spoke to me of the habits of his +friends. We got upon some sort of terms by these means, and I always +had a kind of affection for poor R----d. In a sense we were both +outcasts, and might have warmed the world for each other. If I had not +been so entirely absorbed in my private life as to grudge any moment +of it unnecessarily spent I should have asked him home. But boys are +exorbitant in their own affairs, and I had no time to spare him. + +I was a year at ---- before I got so far with any schoolfellow of mine +there; but just about the time of my visit to R----d I fell in with +another boy, called Harkness, who, for some reason of his own, desired +my closer acquaintance and got as much of it as I was able to give to +anybody, and a good deal more than he deserved or I was the better of. +He, too, was a day-boy, whose people lived in a suburb of the town +which lay upon my road. We scraped acquaintance by occasionally +travelling together so much of the way as he had to traverse; from +this point onward all the advances were his. I had no liking for him, +and, in fact, some of his customs shocked me. But he was older than I, +very friendly, and very interesting. He evidently liked me; he asked +me to tea with him; he used to wait for me, going and returning. I had +no means of refusing his acquaintance, and did not; but I got no good +out of him. + +As he was older, so he was much more competent. Not so much vicious as +curious and enterprising, he knew a great many things which I only +guessed at, and could do much--or said that he could--which I only +dreamed about. He put a good deal of heart into my instruction, and +left me finally with my lesson learned. I never saw nor heard of him +after I left the school. We did not correspond, and he left no mark +upon me of any kind. The lesson learned, I used the knowledge +certainly; but it did not take me into the region which he knew best. +His grove of philosophy was close to the school, in K---- Park, which +is a fine enclosure of forest trees, glades, brake-fern and deer. +Here, in complete solitude, for we never saw a soul, my sentimental +education was begun by this self-appointed professor. As I remember, +he was a good-looking lad enough, with a round and merry face, high +colour, bright eyes, a moist and laughing mouth. Had he known the way +in he would have been at home in the Garden of Priapus, where perhaps +he is now. He was hardy in address, a ready speaker, rather eloquent +upon the theme that he loved, and I dare say he may have been as +fortunate as he said, or very nearly. Certainly what he had to tell me +of love and women opened my understanding. I believe that I envied him +his ease of attainment more than what he said he had attained. I might +have been stimulated by his adventures to be adventurous on my own +account, but I never was, neither at that time nor at any other. I am +quite certain that never in my life have I gone forth conquering and +to conquer in affairs of the heart. You need to be a Casanova--which +Harkness was in his little way--and I have had no aptitude for the +part. But as I said just now I absorbed his teachings and made use of +them. So far as he gave me food for reflection I ate it, and +assimilated it in my own manner. Neither by him nor by any person far +more considerable than himself has my imagination been moved in the +direction of the mover of it. Let great poet, great musician, great +painter stir me ever so deeply, I have never been able to follow him +an inch. I was excited by pictures to see new pictures of my own, by +poems to make poems--of my own, not of theirs. In these, no doubt, +were elements of theirs; there was a borrowed something, a quality, an +accent, a spirit of attack. But the forms were mine, and the setting +always so. All my life I have used other men's art and wisdom as a +spring-board. I suppose every poet can say the same. This was to be +the use to me of the lessons of the precocious, affectionate, and +philoprogenitive Harkness. + +I remember very well one golden summer evening when he and I lay +talking under a great oak--he expounding and I plucking at the grass +as I listened, or let my mind go free--how, quite suddenly, the mesh +he was weaving about my groping mind parted in the midst and showed me +for an appreciable moment a possibility of something--it was no +more--which he could never have seen. + +From the dense shade in which we lay there stretched out an avenue of +timber trees, whereunder the bracken, breast high, had been cut to +make a ride. Upon this bracken, and upon this smooth channel in the +midst the late sun streamed toward us, a soft wash of gold. Behind all +this the sky, pale to whiteness immediately overhead, deepened to the +splendid orange of the sunset. Each tree cast his shadow upon his +neighbour, so that only the topmost branches burned in the light. +Over and above us floated the drowsy hum of the insect world; rarely +we heard the moaning of a wood-dove, more rarely still the stirring of +deer hidden in the thicket shade. This was a magical evening, primed +with wonders, in the glamour of which Master Harkness could find +nothing better for him to rehearse than the progress of his amours +with his mother's housemaid. Yet something of the evening glow, +something of the opulence of summer smouldered in his words. He +painted his mistress with the colour of the sunset, he borrowed of it +burnt gold to deck her clay. He hymned the whiteness of her neck, her +slender waist, her whispers, the kisses of her mouth. The scamp was +luxuriating in his own imaginings or reminiscences, much less of a +lover and far more of a rhapsodist than he suspected. As such his pan +of precocious love stirred my senses and fired my imagination, but not +in the direction of his own. For the glow which he cast upon his +affair was a borrowed one. He had dipped without knowing into the +languid glory of the evening, which like a pool of wealth lay ready to +my hand also. I gave him faint attention from the first. After he had +started my thoughts he might sing rapture after rapture of his young +and ardent sense. For me the spirit of a world not his whispered, "_A +te convien tenere altro viaggio_," and little as I knew it, in my +vague exploration of that scene of beauty, of those scarcely stirring, +stilly burning trees, of that shimmering-fronded fern, of that misty +splendour, I was hunting for the soul of it all, for the informing +spirit of it all. Harkness's erotics gave ardour to my search, but no +clew. I lost him, left him behind, and never found him again. He fell +into the Garden of Priapus, I doubt. As for me, I believed that I was +now looking upon a Dryad. I was looking certainly at a spirit +informed. A being, irradiate and quivering with life and joy of life, +stood dipt to the breast in the brake; stood so, bathing in the light; +stood so, preening herself like a pigeon on the roof-edge, and saw me +and took no heed. + +She had appeared, or had been manifest to me, quite suddenly. At one +moment I saw the avenue of lit green, at another she was dipt in it. I +could describe her now, at this distance of time--a radiant young +female thing, fiercely favoured, smiling with a fierce joy, with a +gleam of fierce light in her narrowed eyes. Upon her body and face was +the hue of the sun's red beam; her hair, loose and fanned out behind +her head, was of the colour of natural silk, but diaphanous as well as +burnished, so that while the surfaces glittered like spun glass the +deeps of it were translucent and showed the fire behind. Her garment +was thin and grey, and it clung to her like a bark, seemed to grow +upon her as a creeping stone-weed grows. Harkness would have admired +the audacity of her shape, as I did; but I found nothing provocative +in it. As well might a boy have enamoured himself of a slim tree as of +that unearthly shaft of beauty. + +I said that she preened herself; the word is inexact. She rather stood +bathing in the light, motionless but for the lifting of her face into +it that she might dip, or for the bending of her head that the warmth +behind her might strike upon the nape of her neck. Those were all her +movements, slowly rehearsed, and again and again rehearsed. With each +of them she thrilled anew; she thrilled and glowed responsive to the +play of the light. I don't know whether she saw me, though it seemed +to me that our looks had encountered. If her eyes had taken me in I +should have known it, I think; and if I had known it I should have +quailed and looked at her no more. So shamefaced was I, so +self-conscious, that I can be positive about that; for far from +avoiding her I watched her intently, studied her in all her parts, and +found out some curious things. + +Looking at her beside the oaks, for instance, whence she must have +emanated, I could judge why it was that I had not seen her come out. +Her colouring was precisely that of her background. Her garment, smock +or frock or vest as you will, was grey-green like the oak stems, her +whites were those of the sky-gleams, her roses those of the sun's +rays. The maze of her hair could hardly be told from the photosphere. +I tested this simply and summarily. Shutting my eyes for a second, +when I opened them she was gone. Shutting them again and opening, +there she was, sunning herself, breathing deep and long, watching her +own beauties as the light played with them. I tried this many times +and it did not fail me. I could, with her assistance, bring her upon +my retina or take her off it, as if I had worked a shutter across my +eyes. But as I watched her so I got very excited. Her business was so +mysterious, her pleasure in it so absorbing; she was visible and yet +secret; I was visible, and yet she could be ignorant of it. I got the +same throbbing sort of interest out of her as many and many a time I +have got since out of watching other wild creatures at their affairs, +crouching hidden where they could not discern me by any of their +senses. Few things enthral me more than that--and here I had my first +taste of it. I remember that my heart beat, I remember that I +trembled. Nothing could have torn me from the spot but what precisely +did, an alien intervention. The besotted Harkness stopped short in +his recital and asked me what I was staring at. + +That was the end of it. I had rather have died than tell him. Perhaps +I was afraid of his mockery, perhaps I dared not risk his unbelief, +perhaps I felt ashamed that I had been prying, perhaps I grudged him +the sight of her moulded beauty and keen wild face. "What am I staring +at? Why, nothing," I said. I got up and put the strap of my school +satchel over my head. I never looked for her again before I walked +away. Whether she left when I left, whether she was really there or a +projection of my mind, whether my inner self, my prisoner, had seen +her, or my schoolboy self through his agency, whether it was a trick +of the senses, a dream, or the like I can't tell you. I only know that +I have now recalled exactly what I seemed to see, and that I have seen +her since--her or her co-mate--once or twice. + +I can account for her now easily enough. I can assure myself that she +was really there, that she, or the like of her, pervades, haunts, +indwells all such places; but it seems that there must be a right +relation between the seer and the object before the unseen can become +the seen. Put it like this, that form is a necessary convention of our +being, a mode of consciousness just as space is, just as time, just +as rhythm are; then it is clear enough that the spirits of natural +fact must take on form and sensible body before we can apprehend them. +They take on such form for us or such body through our means; that is +what I mean by a right relation between them and ourselves. Now some +persons have the faculty of discerning spirits, that is, of clothing +them in bodily form, and others have not; but of those who have it all +do not discern them in the same form, or clothe them in the same body. +The form will be rhythmical to some, to other some audible, to others +yet again odorous, "aromatic pain," or bliss. These modes are no +matter, they are accidents of our state. They cause the form to be +relative, just as the conception of God is; but the substance is +constant. I have seen innumerable spirits, but always in bodily form. +I have never perceived them by means of any other sense, such as +hearing, though sight has occasionally been assisted by hearing. If +during an orchestral symphony you look steadily enough at one musician +or another you can always hear his instrument above the rest and +follow his part in the symphony. In the same way when I look at fairy +throngs I can hear them sing. If I single out one of them for +observation I hear him or her sing--not words, never words; they have +none. I saw once, like a driven cloud, the spirits of the North-west +wind sweep down the sky over the bare ridge of a chalk down, winged +and shrouded, eager creatures, embattled like a host. They were grey +and dun-coloured, pale in the face. Their hair swept forward, not +back; for it seemed as if the wind in gusts went faster than +themselves, and was driving them faster than they could go. Another +might well have heard these beings like a terrible, rushing music, as +cries of havoc or desolation, wild peals of laughter, fury and +exultation. But to me they were inaudible. I heard the volleying of +the wind, but them I saw. So in the still ecstasy of that Dryad +bathing in light I saw, beyond doubt, what the Greeks called by that +name, what some of them saw; and I saw it in their mode, although at +the time of seeing I knew nothing of them or their modes, because it +happened to be also my mode. But so far I did not more than see her, +for though I haunted the place where she had been she never came there +again, nor never showed herself. It became to me sacred ground, where +with awed breath I could say, "Here indeed she stood and bathed +herself. Here I really saw her, and she me;" and I encompassed it with +a fantastic cult of my own invention. It may have been very comic, or +very foolish, but I don't myself think it was either, because it was +so sincere, and because the impulse to do it came so naturally. I used +to bare my head; I made a point of saving some of my luncheon (which +I took with me to school) that I might leave it there. It was real +sacrifice that, because I had a fine appetite, and it was pure +worship. In my solitary hours, which were many, I walked with her of +course, talked and played with her. But that was another thing, +imagination, or fancy, and I don't remember anything of what we said +or did. It needs to be carefully distinguished from the first +apparition with which imagination, having nothing whatever to proceed +upon, had nothing whatever to do. One thing, however, I do remember, +that our relations were entirely sexless; and, as I write, another +comes into mind. I saw no affinity between her and the creature of my +first discovery. It never occurred to me to connect the two either +positively, as being inhabitants of a world of their own, or +negatively, as not being of my world. I was not a reflective boy, but +my mind proceeded upon flashes, by leaps of intuition. When I was +moved I could conceive anything, everything; when I was unmoved I was +as dull as a clod. It was idle to tell me to think. I could only think +when I was moved from within to think. That made me the despair of my +father and the vessel of my schoolmaster's wrath. So here I saw no +relationship whatsoever between the two appearances. Now, of course, I +do. I see now that both were fairies, informed spirits of certain +times or places. For time has a spirit as well as space. But more of +this in due season. I am not synthesising now but recording. One had +been merely curious, the other for a time enthralled me. The first had +been made when I was too young to be interested. The second found me +more prepared, and seeded in my brain for many a day. Gradually, +however, it too faded as fancy began to develop within me. I took to +writing, I began to fall in love; and at fifteen I went to a +boarding-school. Farewell, then, to rewards and fairies! + + + + +THE GODS IN THE SCHOOLHOUSE + + +Who am I to treat of the private affairs of my betters, to evoke your +fragrant names, Flicit, Perpetua, loves of my tender youth? Shall I +forget thee, Emilia, thy slow smile and peering brown eyes of mischief +or appeal? Rosy Lauretta, or thee, whom I wooed desperately from afar, +lured by thy buxom wellbeing, thy meek and schooled replies? And if I +forget you not, how shall I explore you as maladies, trace out the +stages of your conquest as if you were spores? Never, never. Worship +went up from me to you, and worship is religion, and religion is +sacred. So, my dears, were you, each of you in your turn, sacred in +your shrines. Before each of you in turn I fell down, suddenly, "_Come +corpo morto cadde_." And to each of you in turn I devoted those waking +hours which fancy had hitherto claimed of me. Yet this I do feel free +to say, by leave of you ladies, that calf-love has not the educative +value of the genuine passion. It is blind worship by instinct; it is a +sign of awakening sense, but it is not its awakener. It is a lovely +thing as all quick or burning growth is, but it has little relation +to the soul, and our Northern state is the more gracious that +consummation of it is not feasible. Apart from the very obvious +drawbacks there is one not quite so obvious: I mean the early +exhaustion of imaginative sympathy. Love, indeed, is an affair of +maturity. I don't believe that a man, in this country, can love before +forty or a woman before thirty-five. They may marry before that and +have children; and they will love their children, but very rarely each +other. I am thinking now of love at its highest rating, as that +passion which is able to lift a man to the highest flight of which the +soul is capable here on earth--a flight, mind you, which it may take +without love, as the poet's takes it, or the musician's, but which the +ordinary man's can only take by means of love. Calf-love is wholly a +sex matter, perfectly natural, mostly harmless, and nearly always a +beautiful thing, to be treated tenderly by the wise parent. + +In my own case my mother treated it so, with a tact and a reverential +handling which only good women know, and I had it as I had mumps and +measles, badly, with a high temperature and some delirium but with no +aggravation from outside. It ran its course or its courses and left me +sane. One of its effects upon me was that it diverted the mind of my +forensic self from the proceedings or aptitudes of my recondite. I +neither knew nor cared what my wayward tenant might be doing; indeed, +so much was my natural force concerned in the heart-affair of the +moment that the other wretch within me lay as it were bound in a +dungeon. He never saw the light. The sun to him was dark and silent +was the moon. There, in fact, he remained for some five or six years, +while sex pricked its way into me intent upon the making of a man. He, +maybe, was to have something to say to that, something to do with +it--but not yet. + +So much for calf-love; but now for a more important matter. I left the +Grammar School at S----, at the age when boys usually go to their +Harrow and Winchester, as well equipped, I daresay, as most boys of my +years; for with the rudiments I had been fairly diligent, and with +some of them even had become expert. I was well grounded in Latin and +French grammar, and in English literature was far ahead of boys much +older than myself. Looking back now upon the drilling I had at S----, +I consider it was well done; but I have to set against the benefits I +got from the system the fact that I had much privacy and all the +chance which that gives a boy to educate himself withal. My school +hours limited my intercourse with the school world. Before and after +them I could develop at my own pace and in my own way--and I did. I +believe that when I went to my great school I had the makings of an +interesting lad in me; but I declare upon my conscience that it was +that place only which checked the promise for ten years or more, and +might have withered it altogether. + +My father was an idealist of 1851; he showed the enthusiasm and nursed +in his bosom the hopes and beliefs of the promoters of the +International Exhibition of that year. There was a plentiful planting +of foreign stock in England after that, and one of its weedy saplings +was an International Education Company, which out of a magniloquent +prospectus and some too-confident shareholders bore one fruit, the +London International College at Spring Grove. It never came to +maturity, and is now dropped and returned to the ground of all such +schemes. I suppose it had been on the stalk some fifteen years when I +went to feed of it. + +The scheme, in fact, sprang out of enthusiasm and had no bottom in +experience. It may be true that all men are brothers, but it is not +logical to infer from that that all brothers are the better for each +other's society. The raw Brazilians, Chilians, Nicaraguans and what +not who were drawn from their native forests and plunged into the +company of blockish Yorkshire lads, or sharp-faced London boys, were +only scared into rebellion and to demonstration after their manner. +They used the knife sometimes; they hardly ever assimilated; and they +taught us nothing that we were the better of knowing. Quite the +contrary. We taught them football, I think, and I remember a negro +from Bermuda, a giant of a fellow who raged over the ground like a +goaded bull when that game was being played, to the consternation of +his opponents. He had a younger brother with inordinately long arms, +like a great lax ape, a cheerful, grinning, harmless creature as I +remember him. He was a football player too; his hug was that of an +octopus which swallowed you all. As for the English, in return for +their football lore they received the gift of tobacco. I learned to +smoke at fifteen from a Chilian called Perez, a wizened, +preternaturally wise, old youth. Nobody in the world could have been +wise as he looked, and nobody else in the school as dull as he really +was. Over this motley assembly was set as house-master a ferocious +Scotchman of great parts, but no discretion; and there were +assistants, too, of scholarship and refinement, who, if they had had +the genius for education, without which these things are nothing, +might have put humanity into some of us. When it was past the time I +discovered this, and one of them became my friend and helper. I then +discovered the tragedy of our system from the other side. For the +pain is a two-edged sword, and imbrues the breast of the pedagogue +even while it bleeds the pupil to inanition. That poor man, scholar, +gentleman, humourist, poet, as he was, held boys in terror. He +misdoubted them; they made him self-conscious, betrayed him into +strange hidden acts of violence, rendered him incapable of instruction +except of the most conventional kind. All his finer nature, his +humanism, was paralysed. We thought him a poor fool, and got a crude +entertainment out of his antics. Actually he was tormenting in a +flame; and we thought his contortions ridiculous. God help us all, how +are we to get at each other, caged creatures as we are! But this is +indeed a tragic business, and I don't want you to tear your hair. + +I remained at Spring Grove, I think, four or five years, a barren, +profitless time. I remember scarcely one gleam of interest which +pierced for more than a few moments the thick gloom of it. The cruel, +dull, false gods of English convention (for thought it is not) held me +fast; masters and pupils alike were jailers to me. I ate and drank of +their provision and can recall still with nausea the sour, stale +taste, and still choke with the memory of the chaff and grit of its +quality. Accursed, perverse generation! God forbid that any child of +mine should suffer as I suffered, starve as I starved, stray where I +was driven to stray. The English boarding-school system is that of the +straw-yard where colts are broken by routine, and again of the +farmyard where pups are walked. Drill in school, _laissez-faire_ out +of it. It is at once too dull and too indolent to recognise character +or even to look for it; it recks nothing of early development or late; +it measures young humanity for its class-rooms like a tailor, with the +yard measure. The discipline of boy over boy is, as might be expected, +brutal or bestial. The school-yard is taken for the world in small, +and so allowed to be. There is no thought taken, or at least betrayed, +that it is nothing more than a preparation for the world at large. +There is no reason, however, to suppose that the International College +was worse than any other large boarding-school. I fancy, indeed, that +it was in all points like the rest. There were no traces in my time of +the Brotherhood of Man about it. A few Portuguese, a negro or two were +there, and a multitude of Jews. But I fancy I should have found the +same sort of thing at Eton. + +I was not in any sense suited to such a place as this; if I had been +sent to travel it had been better for me. I was "difficult," not +because I was stiff but because I was lax. I resisted nothing except +by inertia. If my parents did not know me--and how should they?--if I +did not know myself, and I did not, my masters, for their part, made +no attempt to know me nor even inquired whether there might be +anything to know. I was unpopular, as might have been expected, made +no friends, did no good. My brother, on the other hand, was an ideal +schoolboy, diligent, brisk, lovable, abounding in friendships, good at +his work and excellent at his play. His career at Spring Grove was one +long happy triumph, and he deserved it. He has a charming nature, and +is one of the few naturally holy persons I know. Wholesome, thank God, +we all are, or could be; pious we nearly all are; but holiness is a +rare quality. + +If I were to try and set down here the really happy memories which I +have of Spring Grove they would be three. The first was the revelation +of Greece which was afforded me by Homer and Plato. The surging music +and tremendous themes of the poet, the sweet persuasion of the sophist +were a wonder and delight. I remember even now the thrill with which I +heard my form-master translate for us the prayer with which the +_Phdrus_ closes: "Beloved Pan, and all ye other gods who haunt this +place...." Beloved Pan! My knowledge of Pan was of the vaguest, and +yet more than once or twice did I utter that prayer wandering alone +the playing field, or watching the evening mist roll down the Thames +Valley and blot up the elm trees, thick and white, clinging to the day +like a fleece. The third Iliad again I have never forgotten, nor the +twenty-fourth; nor the picture of the two gods, like vulture birds, +watching the battle from the dead tree. Nor, again, do I ever fail to +recapture the beat of the heart with which I apprehended some of +Homer's phrases: "Sandy Pylos," Argos "the pasture land of horses," or +"clear-seen" Ithaca. These things happened upon by chance in the dusty +class-room, in the close air of that terrible hour from two to three, +were as the opening of shutters to the soul, revealing blue distances, +dim fields, or the snowy peaks of mountains in the sun. One seemed to +lift, one could forget. It lasted but an instant; but time is of no +account to the inner soul, of no more account than it is to God. I +have never forgotten these moments of escape; nor can I leave Homer +without confessing that his books became my Bible. I accepted his +theology implicitly; I swallowed it whole. The Godhead of the +Olympians, the lesser divinity of Thetis and Alpheios and Xanthos were +indisputable. They were infinitely more real to me than the deities of +my own land; and though I have found room for these later on in life, +it has not been by displacing the others. Nor is there any need for +that, so far as I see. I say that out of Homer I took his Gods; I add +that I took them instantly. I seemed to breathe the air of their +breath; they appealed to my reason; I knew that they had existed and +did still exist. I was not shocked or shaken in my faith, either, by +anything I read about them. Young as I was and insipient, I was +prepared for what is called the burlesque Olympus of the Iliad, so +grievous to Professor Murray. I think I recognised then, what seems +perfectly plain to me now, that you might as well think meanly of a +God of Africa because the natives make him of a cocoanut on a stick, +as of Zeus and Hera because Homer says that they played peccant +husband and jealous wife. If Homer halted it is rash to assume that +Hephaistos did. The pathetic fallacy has crept in here. Mythology was +one of the few subjects I diligently read at school, and all I got out +of it was pure profit--for I realised that the Gods' world was not +ours, and that when their natures came in conflict with ours some such +interpretation must always be put upon their victory. We have a moral +law for our mutual wellbeing which they have not. We translate their +deeds in terms of that law of ours, and it certainly appears like a +standing fact of Nature that when the beings of one order come into +commerce with those of another the result will be tragic. There is +only a harmony in acquiescence, and the way to that is one of blood +and tears. + +Brooding over all this I discerned dimly, even in that dusty, brawling +place, and time showed me more and more clearly, that I had always +been aware of the Gods and conscious of their omnipresence. It seemed +plain to me that Zeus, whose haunt is dark Dodona, lorded it over the +English skies and was to be heard in the thunder crashing over the +elms of Middlesex. I knew Athen in the shrill wind which battled +through the vanes and chimneys of our schoolhouse. Artemis was Lady of +my country. By Apollo's light might I too come to be led. Poseidon of +the dark locks girdled my native seas. I had had good reason to know +the awfulness of Pan, and guessed that some day I should couch with +Kor the pale Queen. I called them by these names, since these names +expressed to me their essence: you may call them what you will, and so +might I, for I had not then reasoned with myself about names. By their +names I knew them. The Gods were there, indeed, ignorantly worshipped +by all and sundry. Then the Dryad of my earlier experience came up +again, and I saw that she stood in such a relation to the Gods as I +did, perhaps, to the Queen of England; that she, no less than they, +was part of a wonderful order, and the visible expression of the +spirit of some Natural Fact. But whether above all the Gods and +nations of men and beasts there were one God and Father of us all, +whether all Nature were one vast synthesis of Spirit having +innumerable appearance but one soul, I did not then stay to inquire, +and am not now prepared to say. I don't mean by that at all that I +don't believe it. I do believe it, but by an act of religion; for +there are states of the individual mind, states of impersonal soul in +which this belief is a positive truth, in the which one exults madly, +or by it is humbled to the dust. Religion, to my mind, is the result +of this consciousness of kinship with the principle of Life; all the +emotion and moral uplifting involved in this tremendous certainty, and +all the lore gathered and massed about it--this is Religion. Young as +I was at the time I now speak of, ignorant and dumb as I was, I had my +moments of exultation and humility,--moments so wild that I was +transported out of myself. I left my body supine in its narrow bed and +soared above the stars. At such times, in an ther so deep that the +blue of it looked like water, I seemed to see the Gods themselves, a +shining row of them, upon the battlements of Heaven. I called Heaven +Olympus, and conceived of Olympus as a towered city upon a white hill. +Looming up out of the deep blue arch, it was vast and covered the +whole plateau: I saw the walls of it run up and down the ridges, in +and out of the gorges which cut into the mass. It had gates, but I +never saw forms of any who entered or left it. It was full of light, +and had the look of habitancy about it; but I saw no folk. Only at +rare moments of time while I hovered afar off looking at the wonder +and radiance of it, the Gods appeared above the battlements in a +shining row--still and awful, each of them ten feet high. + +These were fine dreams for a boy of sixteen in a schoolhouse +dormitory. They were mine, though: but I dreamed them awake. I awoke +before they began, always, and used to sit up trembling and wait for +them. + +An apologue, if you please. On the sacred road from Athens to Eleusis, +about midway of its course, and just beyond the pass, there is a fork +in it, and a stony path branches off and leads up into the hills. +There, in the rock, is a shallow cave, and before that, where once was +an altar of Aphrodite, the ruins of her shrine and precinct may be +seen. As I was going to Eleusis the other day, I stopped the carriage +to visit the place. Now, beside the cave is a niche, cut square in the +face of the rock, for offerings; and in that niche I found a fresh +bunch of field flowers, put there by I know not what dusty-foot +wayfarer. That was no longer ago than last May, and the man who did +the piety was a Christian, I suppose. So do I avow myself, without +derogation, I hope, to the profession; for no more than Mr. Robert +Kirk, a minister of religion in Scotland in the seventeenth century, +do I consider that a knowledge of the Gods is incompatible with belief +in God. There is a fine distinction for you: I believe that God +exists; I infer him by reason stimulated by desire. But I know that +the Gods exist by other means than those. If I could be as sure of God +as I am of the Gods, I might perhaps be a better Christian, but I +should not believe any less in the Gods. + + * * * * * + +I found religion through Homer: I found poetry through Milton, whose +_Comus_ we had to read for examination by some learned Board. If any +one thing definitely committed me to poesy it was that poem; and as +has nearly always happened to me, the crisis of discovery came in a +flash. We were all there ranked at our inky desks on some drowsy +afternoon. The books lay open before us, the lesson, I suppose, +prepared. But what followed had not been prepared--that some one began +to read: + + "The star that bids the shepherd fold + Now the top of Heav'n doth hold; + And the gilded car of day + His glowing axle doth allay + In the steep Atlantic stream"-- + +and immediately, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, it was +changed--for me--from verse to poetry; that is, from a jingle to a +significant fact. It was more than it appeared; it was transfigured; +its implication was manifest. That's all I can say--except this, that, +untried as I was, I jumped into the poetic skin of the thing, and felt +as if I had written it. I knew all about it, "_e'l chi, e'l quale_"; I +was privy to its intricacy; I caught without instruction the +alternating beat in the second line, and savoured all the good words, +_gilded car_, _glowing axle_, _Star that bids the shepherd fold_. +_Allay_ ravished me, young as I was. I knew why he had called the +Atlantic stream _steep_, and remembered Homer's "[Greek: Stugos +hudatos aipa rheethra]." Good soul, our pedagogue suggested _deep_! I +remember to this hour the sinking of the heart with which I heard him. +But the flash passed and darkness again gathered about me, the normal +darkness of those hateful days. "Sabrina fair" lifted it; my sky +showed me an amber shaft. I am recording moments, the reader will +remember, the few gleams which visited me in youth. I was far from the +time when I could connect them, see that poetry was the vesture of +religion, the woven garment whereby we see God. Love had to teach me +that. I was not born until I loved. + +My third happy memory is of a brief and idyllic attachment, very +fervent, very romantic, entirely my own, and as I remember it, now, +entirely beautiful. Nothing remains but the fragrance of it, and its +dream-like quality, the sense I have of straying with the beloved +through a fair country. Such things assure me that I was not wholly +dead during those crushing years of servitude. + +But those are, as I say, gleams out of the dark. They comfort me with +the thought that the better part of me was not dead, but buried here +with the worse. They point also to the truth, as I take it to be, that +the lack of privacy is one of the most serious detriments of +public-school life. I don't say that privacy is good for all boys, or +that it is good for any unless they are provided with a pursuit. It is +true that many boys seek to be private that they may be vicious, and +that the having the opportunity for privacy leads to vice. But that is +nearly always the fault of the masters. Vice is due to the need for +mental or material excitement; it is a crude substitute for romance. +If a boy is debarred from good romance, because he doesn't feel it or +hasn't been taught to feel it, he will take to bad. It is nothing else +at all: he is bored. And remembering that a boy can only think of one +thing at a time, the single aim of the master should be to give every +boy in his charge some sane interest which he can pursue to the death, +as a terrier chases a smell, in and out, up and down, every nerve bent +and quivering. There is a problem of the teaching art which the +College at Spring Grove made no attempt to solve while I was there. +You either played football and cricket or you were negligible. I was +bad at both, was negligible, and neglected. + +I suspect that my experiences are very much those of other people, and +that is why I have taken the trouble to articulate them, and perhaps +to make them out more coherent than they were. We don't feel in images +or think in words. The images are about us, the words may be at hand; +but it may well be that we are better without them. This world is a +tight fit, and life in it, as the Duke said of one day of his own +life, is "a devilish close-run thing." If the blessed Gods and the +legions of the half-gods in their habit as they live, were to be as +clear to us as our neighbour Tom or our chief at the office, what +might be the lot of Tom's wife, or what the security of our high stool +at the desk? As things are, our blank misgivings are put down to +nerves, our yearning for wings to original sin. The policeman at the +street corner sees to it, for our good, that we put out of sight these +things, and so we grow rich and make a good appearance. It is only +when we are well on in years that we can afford to be precise and, +looking back, to remember the celestial light, the glory and the +freshness of the dream in which we walked and bathed ourselves. + + + + +THE SOUL AT THE WINDOW + + +When I had been in London a year or two, and the place with its hordes +was become less strange and less formidable to me, I began to discover +it for myself. Gradually the towering cliffs resolved themselves into +houses, and the houses into shrouded holds, each with character and +each hiding a mystery. They now stood solitary which had before been +an agglutinated mass. Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.... I knew +one from the other by sight, and had for each a specific sensation of +attraction or repulsion, of affection or terror. I read through the +shut doors, I saw through the blank windows; not a house upon my daily +road but held a drama or promised a tragedy. I had no sense for comedy +in those days; life to me, waking life, was always a dreadful thing. +And sometimes my bodily eyes had glimpses which confirmed my +fancy--unexpected, sudden and vivid flashes behind curtained windows. +I once saw two men fighting, shadowed black upon a white blind. I once +looked out of a window at the Army and Navy Stores into a mean +bedroom across the way. There was a maidservant in there, making beds, +emptying slops, tidying this and that. Quite suddenly she threw her +head up with a real despair, and next moment she was on her knees by +the bed. Praying! I never saw prayer like that in this country. The +soul went streaming from her mouth like blown smoke. And again, one +night, very late, I was going to bed, and leaned out of my window for +air. Before me, across back yards, leafless trees, and a litter of +packing-cases and straw, rose up a dark rampart of houses, in the +midst of it a lit window. I saw a poorly furnished sitting-room--a +table with a sewing machine, a paraffin lamp, a chair with an +antimacassar. A man in his shirt sleeves sat there by the table, +smoking a pipe. Then the door opened and a tall, slim woman came in, +all in white, with loose dark hair floating about her shoulders. She +stood between door and table and rested her hand upon the edge of the +table. The man, after a while of continuing to read, quite suddenly +looked up and saw her. They looked at each other motionless. He cast +down his paper, sprang up and went to her. He fell to his knees before +her and clasped hers. She looked across, gravely considering, then +laid her hand upon his head. That was all. I saw no more. Husband and +wife? Mother and son? Sinner and Saviour? What do I know? + +As with the houses, homes of mystery, so with the men and women one +passed; homes, they too, of things hidden yet more deep. The noise of +the streets, at first paralysing, died down to a familiar rumble, and +the ear began to distinguish voices in the tide. Sounds of crying, +calls for help, hailings, laughter, tears, separated themselves and +appealed. You heard them, like the cries of the drowning, drifting by +you upon a dark tide-way. You could do nothing; a word would have +broken the spell. The mask which is always over the face would have +covered the tongue or throttled the larynx. You could do nothing but +hear. + +Finally, the passing faces became sometimes penetrable, betrayed by +some chance gleam of the eyes, some flicker of the lips, a secret to +be shared, or conveyed by a hint some stabbing message out of the deep +into the deep. That is what I mean by the soul at the window. Every +one of us lives in a guarded house; door shut, windows curtained. Now +and then, however, you look up above the street level and catch a +glimpse of the scared prisoner inside. He may be a satyr, a fairy, an +ape or an angel; he's a prisoner anyhow, who sometimes comes to the +window and looks strangely out. You may see him there by chance, +saying to himself like Chaucer's Creseyde in the temple, "Ascaunces, +What! May I not stonden here?" And I found out for myself that there +is scarcely a man or woman alive who does not hold such a tenant more +or less deeply within his house. + +Sometimes the walls of the house are transparent, like a frog's foot, +and you see the prisoner throbbing and quivering inside. This is rare. +Shelley's house must have been a filmy tenement of the kind. With +children--if you catch them young enough--it is more common. I +remember one whom I used to see nearly every day, the child of poor +parents, who kept a green-grocer's shop in Judd Street, Saint Pancras, +a still little creature moving about in worlds not recognised. She was +slim and small, fair-haired, honey-coloured, her eyes wells of blue. I +used to see her standing at the door of the shop, amid baskets of +green stuff, crimsoned rhubarb, pyramided dates, and what not. I never +saw her dirty or untidy, nor heard her speak, nor saw her laugh. She +stood or leaned at the lintel, watching I know not what, but certainly +not anything really there, as we say. She appeared to be looking +through objects rather than at them. I can describe it no otherwise +than that I, or another, crossed her field of vision and was conscious +that her eyes met mine and yet did not see me. To me she was instantly +remarkable, not for this and not for any beauty she had--for she was +not at all extraordinary in that quality--but for this, that she was +not of our kind. Surrounded by other children, playing gaily, circling +about her, she was _sui generis_. She carried her own atmosphere, +whereby in the company of others she seemed unaccountable, by herself +only, normal. Nature she fitted perfectly, but us she did not fit. +Now, it is a curious thing, accepted by all visionaries, that a +supernatural being, a spirit, fairy, not-human creature, if you see it +among animals, beasts and birds, on hills or in the folds of hills, +among trees, by waters, in fields of flowers, _looks at home_ and +evidently is so. The beasts are conscious of it, know it and have no +fear of it; the hills and valleys are its familiar places in a way +which they will never be to the likes of us. But put a man beside it +and it becomes at once supernatural. I have seen spirits, beings, +whatever they may be, in empty space, and have observed them as part +of the landscape, no more extraordinary than grazing cattle or +wheeling plover. Again I have seen a place thick with them, as thick +as a London square in a snow-storm, and a man walk clean through them +unaware of their existence, and make them, by that act, a mockery of +the senses. So precisely it was with this strange child, unreal to me +when she was real to everybody else. + +She had a name, a niche in the waking world. Marks, Greengrocer, was +the inscription of the shop. She was Elsie Marks. Her father was a +stout, florid man of maybe fifty years, with a chin-beard and +light-blue eyes. Good-humoured he seemed, and prosperous, something of +a ready wit, a respected and respectable man, who stamped his way +about the solid ground in a way which defied dreams. + +If I had been experienced, I should have remarked the mother, but in +fact I barely remember her, though I spoke with her one day. She was +somewhat heavy and grave, I think, downcast and yet watchful. She did +her business efficiently, without enthusiasm, and did not enter into +general conversation with her customers. Her husband did that part of +the business. Marks was a merry Jew. I bought oranges of her once for +the sake of hearing her speak, and while she was serving me the child +came into the shop and stood by her. She leaned against her rather +than stood, took the woman's disengaged arm and put it round her neck. +Looks passed between them; the mother's sharply down, the child's +searchingly up. On either side there was pain, as if each tried to +read the other. + +I was very shy with strangers. The more I wanted to get on terms with +them the less I was able to do it. I asked the child whether she liked +oranges. + +I asked the child, but the mother answered me, measuring her words. + +"She likes nothing of ours. It's we that like and she that takes." +That was her reply. + +"I am sure that she likes you at any rate," I said. Her hold on the +child tightened, as if to prevent an escape. + +"She should, since I bore her. But she has much to forgive me." + +Such a word left me dumb. I was not then able to meet women on such +terms. Nor did I then understand her as I do now. + +Here is another case. There was a slatternly young woman whom I +caught, or who caught me, unawares; who suddenly threw open the +windows and showed me things I had never dreamed. + +Opposite the chambers in R---- Buildings where I worked, or was +intended to work, and across a wall, there was a row of tenements +called, if I remember, Gaylord's Rents. Part mews, part warehouses, +and all disreputable, the upper story of it, as it showed itself to me +over the wall, held some of the frowsiest of London's horde. Exactly +before my eyes was one of the lowest of these hovels, the upper part +of a stable, I imagine, since it had, instead of a window, a door, of +which half was always shut and half always open, so that light might +get in or the tenants lean out to take the air. + +Here, and so leaning her bare elbows, I saw on most days of the week a +slim young woman airing herself--a pale-faced, curling-papered, +half-bodiced, unwashed drab of a girl, who would have had shame +written across her for any one to read if she had not seemed of all +women I have ever seen the least shamefaced. Her brows were as +unwritten as a child's, her smile as pure as a seraph's, and her eyes +blue, unfaltering and candid. She laughed a greeting, exchanged +gossip, did her sewing, watched events, as the case might be, was not +conscious of her servitude or anxious to market it. Sometimes she +shared her outlook with an old woman--a horrible, greasy go-between, +with straggling grey hair and a gin-inflamed face. She chatted with +this beldame happily, she cupped her vile old dewlap, or stroked her +dishonourable head; sometimes a man in shirt sleeves was with her, +treated her familiarly, with rude embraces, with kisses, nudges and +leers. She accepted all with good-humour and, really, complete good +breeding. She invited nothing, provoked nothing, but resented nothing. +It seemed to me as if all these things were indeed nothing to her; +that she hardly knew that they were done; as if her soul could render +them at their proper worth, transmute them, sherd them off, discard +them. It was, then, her surface which took them; what her soul +received was a distillation, an essence. + +Then one night I had all made plain. She entranced me on a summer +night of stillness, under a full yellow moon. I was working late, till +past ten, past eleven o'clock, and looking out of my open window +suddenly was aware of her at hers. The shutter was down, both wings of +it, and she stood hovering, seen at full length, above the street. +She! Could this be she? It was so indeed--but she was transfigured, +illuminated from within; she rayed forth light. The moon shone full +upon her, and revealed her pure form from head to foot swathed in +filmy blue--a pale green-blue, the colour of ocean water seen from +below. Translucent webbery, whatever it was, it showed her beneath it +as bare as Venus was when she fared forth unblemished from the sea. +Her pale yellow hair was coiled above her head; her face looked mild +and radiant with a health few Londoners know. Her head was bent in a +considering way; she stood as one who is about to plunge into deep +water, and stands hesitating at the shock. Once or twice she turned +her face up, to bathe it in the light. I saw that in it which in human +faces I had never seen--communion with things hidden from men, secret +knowledge shared with secret beings, assurance of power above our +hopes. + +Breathless I watched her, the drab of my daily observation, radiant +now; then as I watched she stretched out her arms and bent them +together like a shield so that her burning face was hidden from me, +and without falter or fury launched herself into the air, and dropt +slowly down out of my sight. + +Exactly so she did it. As we may see a pigeon or chough high on the +verge of a sea-cliff float out into the blue leagues of the air, and +drift motionless and light--or descend to the sea less by gravity than +at will--so did she. There was nothing premeditated, there was nothing +determined on: mood was immediately translated into ability--she was +at will lighter or heavier than the air. It was so done that here was +no shock at all--she in herself foreshadowed the power she had. +Rather, it would have been strange to me if, irradiated, transplendent +as she was, she had not considered her freedom and on the instant +indulged it. I accepted her upon her face value without question--I +did not run out to spy upon her. _Ecce unus fortior me!_ + +In this case, being still new to the life into which I was gradually +being drawn, it did not for one moment occur to me to start an +adventure of my own. I might have accosted the woman, who was, as the +saying goes, anybody's familiar; or I might have spied for another +excursion of her spirit, and, with all preparation made, have followed +her. But I did neither of these things at the time. I saw her next +day leaning bare-elbowed on the ledge of her half-door, her hair in +curl-papers, her face the pale unwholesome pinched oval of most London +women of her class. Her bodice was pinned across her chest; she was +coarse-aproned, new from the wash-tub or the grate. Not a sign upon +her but told of her frowsy round. The stale air of foul lodgment was +upon her. I found out indeed this much about her ostensible state, +that she was the wife of a cab-driver whose name was Ventris. He was +an ill-conditioned, sottish fellow who treated her badly, but had +given her a child. But he was chiefly on night-work at Euston, and the +man whom I had seen familiar with her in the daytime was not he. Her +reputation among her neighbours was not good. She was, in fact, no +better than she should be--or, as I prefer to put it, no better than +she could be. + +Yet I knew her, withal, as of the fairy-kind, bound to this +earth-bondage by some law of the Universe not yet explored; not +pitiable because not self-pitying, and (what is more important) not +reprehensible because impossible to be bound, as we are, soul to body. +I know that now, but did not know it then; and yet--extraordinary +thing--I was never shocked by the contrast between her two states of +being. This is to me a clear and certain evidence of their +reality--just as it is evidence to me that when, at ten years old, I +seemed to see the boy in the wood, I really did see him. An +hallucination or a dream upsets your moral balance. The things +impressed upon you are abnormal; and the abnormal disturbs you. Now +these apparitions did not seem abnormal. I saw nothing wonderful in +Mrs. Ventris's act. I was impressed by it, I was excited by it, as I +still am by a convulsion of nature--a thunder-storm in the Alps, for +instance, a water-spout at sea. Such things hold beauty and terror; +they entrance, they appal; but they never shock. They happen, and they +are right. I have not seen what people call a ghost, and I have often +been afraid lest I should see one. But I know very well that if ever I +did I should have no fear. I know very well that a natural fact +impresses its conformity with law upon you first and last. It becomes, +on the moment of its appearance, a part of the landscape. If it does +not, it is an hallucination, or a freak of the imagination, and will +shock you. I have much more extraordinary experiences than this to +relate, but there will be nothing shocking in these pages--at least +nothing which gave me the least sensation of shock. One of them--a +thing extraordinary to all--must occupy a chapter by itself. I cannot +precisely fit a date to it, though I shall try. And as it forms a +whole, having a beginning, a middle and an end, I shall want to +depart from my autobiographical plan and put it in as a whole. The +reader will please to recollect that it did not work itself out in my +consciousness by a flash. The first stages of it came so, in flashes +of revelation; but the conclusion was of some years later, when I was +older and more established in the world. + + * * * * * + +But before I embark upon it I should like to make a large jump forward +and finish with the young woman of Gaylord's Rents. It was by accident +that I happened upon her at her mysteries, at a later day when I was +living in London, in Camden Town. + +By that time I had developed from a lad of inarticulate mind and +unexpressed desires into a sentient and self-conscious being. I was +more or less of a man, not only adventurous but bold in the pursuit of +adventure. I lived for some two or three years in that sorry quarter +of London in complete solitude--"in poverty, total idleness and the +pride of literature," like Doctor Johnson, for though I wrote little I +read much, and though I wrote little I was most conscious that I was +about to write much. It was a period of brooding, of mewing my youth, +and whatever facility of imagination and expression I have since +attained I owe very much to my hermitage in Albert Street. + +If I walked in those days it was by night. London at night is a very +different place from the town of business and pleasure of ordinary +acquaintance. During the day I fulfilled my allotted hours at the +desk; but immediately they were over I returned to my lodgings, got +out my books, and sat enthralled until somewhere near midnight. But +then, instead of going to bed, I was called by the night, and forth I +sallied all agog. I walked the city, the embankment, skirted the +parks, unless I were so fortunate as to slip in before gate-shutting. +Often I was able to remain in Kensington Gardens till the opening +hour. Highgate and its woods, Parliament Hill with its splendid +panorama of twinkling beacons and its noble tent of stars, were great +fields for me. Hampstead Heath, Wimbledon, even Richmond and Bushey +have known me at their most secret hour. Such experiences as I have +had of the preternatural will find their place in this book, but not +their chronological place, for the simple reason that, as I kept no +diary, I cannot remember in what order of time they befell me. But it +was on the southern slope of Parliament Hill that I came again upon +the fairy-woman of Gaylord's Rents. + +I was there at midnight, a mild radiant night of late April. There +were sheep at graze there, for though it was darkish under the +three-quarter moon, I was used to the dark, and could see them, a +woolly mass, quietly feeding close together. I saw no shepherd +anywhere; but I remember that his dog sat on his haunches apart, +watching them. He was prick-eared, bright-eyed; he grinned and panted +intensely. I didn't then know why he was so excited, but very soon I +did. + +I became aware, gradually, that a woman stood among the sheep. She had +not been there when I first saw them, I am sure; nor did I see her +approach them or enter their school. Yet there she was in the midst of +them, seen now by me as she had evidently been seen for some time by +the dog, seen, I suppose, by the sheep--at any rate she stood in the +midst of them, as I say, with her hand actually upon the shoulder of +one of them--but not feared or doubted by any soul of us. The dog was +vividly interested, but did not budge; the sheep went on feeding; I +stood bolt upright, watching. + +I knew her the moment I saw her. She was the exquisitely formed, slim +and glowing creature I had seen before, when she launched herself into +the night as a God of Homer--Hermes or Thetis--launched out from +Olympus' top into the sea--"[Greek: ex aitheros empese pont]," and +words fail me to describe the perfection of her being, a radiant +simulacrum of our own, the inconscient self-sufficiency, the buoyancy +and freedom which she showed me. You may sometimes see boys at their +maddest tip of expectation stand waiting as she now stood, quivering +on the extreme edge of adventure; yet even in their case there is a +consciousness of well being, a kind of rolling of anticipation upon +the palate, a getting of the flavours beforehand. That involves a +certain dissipation of activity; but here all was concentrated. The +whole nature of the creature was strung to one issue only, to that +point when she could fling headlong into activity--an activity in +which every fibre and faculty would be used. A comparison of the +fairy-kind with human beings is never successful, because into our +images of human beings we always import self-consciousness. They know +what they are doing. Fairies do not. But wait a moment; there is a +reason. Human creatures, I think, know what they are doing only too +well, because performance never agrees with desire. They know what +they are doing because it is never exactly what they meant to do, or +what they wanted to do. Now, with fairies, desire to do and +performance are instinctive and simultaneous. If they think, they +think in action. In this they are far more like animals than human +creatures, although the form in which they appear to us, their shape +and colouring are like ours, enhanced and refined. Here now stood this +creature in the semblance of a woman glorified, quivering; and so, +perched high on his haunches, sat the shepherd's dog, and no one could +look at the two and not see their kinship. _Arrire-pense_ they had +none--and all's said in that. They were shameless, and we are full of +shame. There's the difference; and it is a gulf. + +After a while of this quivering suspense she gave a low call, a long +mellow and tremulous cry which, gentle as it was, startled by its +suddenness, as the unexpected call of a water-fowl out of the reeds of +a pond makes the heart jump toward the throat. It was like some bird's +call, but I know of no bird's with which to get a close comparison. It +had the soft quality, soft yet piercing, of a redshank's, but it +shuddered like an owl's. And she held it on as an owl does. But it was +very musical, soft and open-throated, and carried far. It was answered +from a distance, first by a single voice; but then another took it up, +and another; and then another. Slowly so the soft night was filled +with musical cries which quavered about me as fitfully as fire-flies +gleam and glance in all quarters of a garden of olive-trees. It was +enchantment to the ear, a ravishing sound; but it was my eyes which +claimed me now, for soon I saw them coming from all quarters. Or +rather, I saw them there, for I can't say definitely that I saw any +one of them on the way. It is truer to say that I looked and they were +there. Where had been one were now two. Now two were five; now five +were a company; now the company was a host. I have no idea how many +there were of them at any time; but when they joined hands and set to +whirling in a ring they seemed to me to stretch round Parliament Hill +in an endless chain. + +How can I be particular about them? They were of both sexes--that was +put beyond doubt; they were garbed as the first of them in something +translucent and grey. It had been quite easy in the lamplight to see +the bare form of the woman whom I first saw in Gaylord's Rents. It was +plain to me that her companions were in the same kind of dress. I +don't think they had girdles; I think their arms and legs were bare. I +should describe the garment as a sleeveless smock to the knees, or +perhaps, more justly, as a sack of silky gauze with a hole for the +head and two for the arms. That was the effect of it. It hung straight +and took the folds natural to it. It was so light that it clung +closely to the body where it met the air. What it was made of I have +no notion; but it was transparent or nearly so. I am pretty sure that +its own colour was grey. + +They greeted each other; they flitted about from group to group +greeting; and they greeted by touching, sometimes with their hands, +sometimes with their cheeks. They neither kissed nor spoke. I never +saw them kiss even when they loved--which they rarely did. I saw one +greeting between two females. They ran together and stopped short +within touching distance. They looked brightly and intently at each +other, and leaning forward approached their cheeks till they +touched.[2] They touched by the right, they touched by the left. Then +they took hands and drew together. By a charming movement of +confidence one nestled to the side of the other and resting her head +looked up and laughed. The taller embraced her with her arm and held +her for a moment. The swiftness of the act and its grace were +beautiful to see. Then hand in hand they ran to others who were a +little further off. The elder and taller had a wild dark face with +stern lips, like a man's; the younger was a beautiful little creature +with quick, squirrel's motions. I remember her hair, which looked +white in that light, but was no doubt lint colour. It was extremely +long, and so fine that it clung to her shoulders and back like a web +of thin silk. + +[Footnote 2: I argue from this peculiar manner of greeting, which I +have observed several times, that these beings converse by contact, as +dogs, cats, mice, and other creatures certainly do. I don't say that +they have no other means of converse; but I am sure I am exact in +saying that they have no articulate speech.] + +They began to play very soon with a zest for mere irresponsible +movement which I have never seen in my own kind. I have seen young +foxes playing, and it was something like that, only incomparably more +graceful. Greyhounds give a better comparison where the rippling of +the body is more expressive of their speed than the flying of their +feet. These creatures must have touched the earth, but their bodies +also ran. And just as young dogs play for the sake of activity, +without method or purpose, so did these; and just as with young +animals the sexes mingle without any hint of sexuality, so did these. +If there was love-making I saw nothing of it there. They met on exact +equality so far as I could judge, the male not desirous, the female +not conscious of being desired. + +But it was a mad business under the cloudy moon. It had a dream-like +element of riot and wild triumph. I suppose I must have been there for +two or three hours, during all which time their swift play was never +altogether stopped. There were interludes to be seen, when some three +or four grew suddenly tired and fell out. They threw themselves down +on the sward and lay panting, beaming, watching the others, or they +disappeared into the dark and were lost in the thickets which dot the +ground. Then finally I saw the great whirling ring of them form--under +what common impulse to frenzy I cannot divine. There was no signal, +no preparation, but as if fired in unison they joined hands, and +spreading out to a circumference so wide that I could distinguish +nothing but a ring of light, they whirled faster and faster till the +speed of them sang in my ears like harps, and whirling so, melted +away. + +Later on and in wilder surroundings than this I saw, and shall relate +in its place, a dance of Oreads. It differed in detail from this one, +but not, I think, in any essential. This was my first experience of +the kind. + + + + +QUIDNUNC + + +I was so fired by that extraordinary adventure, that I think I could +have overcome my constitutional timidity and made myself acquainted +with the only actor in it who was accessible if I had not become +involved in another matter of the sort. But I don't know that I should +have helped myself thereby. To the night the things of the night +pertain. If I could have had speech with Mrs. Ventris in that season +of her radiancy there would have been no harm; but by day she was +another creature. Thereby contact was impossible because it would have +been horrible. It is true that a certain candour of conduct +distinguished her from the frowsy drabs with whom she must have +jostled in public-house bars or rubbed elbows at lodging-house doors, +a sort of unconsciousness of evil, which I take to have been due to an +entire absence of a moral sense. It is probable that she was not a +miserable sinner because she did not know what was miserable sin. Heat +and cold she knew, hunger and thirst, rage and kindness. She could not +be unwomanly because she was not woman, nor good because she could +not be bad. But I could have been very bad; and to me she was, +luckily, horrible. I could not divorce her two apparent natures, still +less my own. We are bound--all of us--by our natures, bound by them +and bounded. I could not have touched the pitch she lived with, the +pitch of which she was, without defilement. Let me hope that I +realised that much. I shall not say how my feet burned to enter that +slum of squalor where hovered this bird of the night, unless I add, as +I can do with truth, that I did not slake them there. I saw her on and +off afterward for a year, perhaps; but tenancies are short in London. +There was a flitting during one autumn when I was away on vacation, +and I came back to see new faces in the half-doorway and other elbows +on the familiar ledge. + +But as I have said above, a new affair engrossed me shortly after my +night pageant on Parliament Hill. This was concerned with a famous +personage whom all knowing London (though I for one had not known it) +called Quidnunc. + +But before I present to the curious reader the facts of a case which +caused so much commotion in distinguished bosoms of the late +"eighties," I think I should say that, while I have a strong +conviction as to the identity of the person himself, I shall not +express it. I accept the doctrine that there are some names not to be +uttered. Similarly I shall neither defend nor extenuate; if I throw it +out at all it will be as a hint to the judicious, or a clew, if you +like, to those who are groping a way in or out of the labyrinth of +Being. To me two things are especially absurd: one is that the +trousered, or skirted, forms we eat with, walk with, or pass unheeded, +are all the population of our world; the other, that these creatures, +ostensibly men or women with fancies, hopes, fears, appetites like our +own, are necessarily of the same nature as ourselves. If beings from +another sphere should, by intention or chance, meet and mingle with +us, I don't see how we could apprehend them at all except in our own +mode, or unless they were, so to speak, translated into our idiom. But +enough of that. The year in which I first met Quidnunc, so far as my +memory serves me, was 1886. + + * * * * * + +I was in those days a student of the law, with chambers in Gray's Inn +which I daily attended; but being more interested in palography than +in modern practice, and intending to make that my particular branch of +effort, I spent much of my time at the Public Record Office; indeed, a +portion of every working day. The track between R---- Buildings and +Rolls Yard must have been sensibly thinned by my foot-soles; there +can have been few of the frequenters of Chancery Lane, Bedford Row and +the squares of Gray's Inn who were not known to me by sight or +concerning whom I had not imagined (or discerned) circumstances +invisible to their friends or themselves to account for their acts or +appearances. Among these innumerable personages--portly solicitors, +dashing clerks, scriveners, racing tipsters, match-sellers, postmen, +young ladies of business, young ladies of pleasure, clients descending +out of broughams, clients keeping rendezvous in public-houses, and +what not--Quidnunc's may well have been one; but I believe that it was +in Warwick Court (that passage from Holborn into the Inn) that, quite +suddenly, I first saw him, or became aware that I saw him; for being, +as he was, to all appearance an ordinary telegraphic messenger, I may +have passed him daily for a year without any kind of notice. But on a +day in the early spring of 1886--mid-April at a guess--I came upon him +in such a way as to remark him incurably. I saw before me on that +morning of tender leafage, of pale sunlight and blue mist contending +for the day, a strangely assorted pair proceeding slowly toward the +Inn. A telegraph boy was one; by his side walked, vehemently +explaining, a tall, elderly solicitor--white-whiskered, drab-spatted, +frock-coated, eye-glassed, silk-hatted--in every detail the trusted +family lawyer. I knew the man by sight, and I knew him by name and +repute. He was, let me say--for I withhold his real name--George +Lumley Fowkes, of Fowkes, Vizard and Fowkes, respectable head of a +more than respectable firm; and here he was, with his hat pushed back +from his dewy forehead, tip-toeing, protesting, extenuating to a slip +of a lad in uniform. The positions of the odd pair were unaccountably +reversed; Jack was better than his master, the deference was from the +elder to the brat. The stoop of Fowkes's shoulder, the anxious angle +of his head, his care to listen to the little he got--and how little +that was I could not but observe--his frequent ejaculations of "God +bless my soul!" his deep concern--and the boy's unconcern, curtly +expressed, if expressed at all--all this was singular. So much more +than singular was it to myself that it enthralled me. + +They stopped at the gateway which admits you to Bedford Row to finish +their colloquy. The halt was made by Fowkes, barely acquiesced in by +his companion. Poor old Fowkes, what with his asthma, the mopping of +his head, the flacking of his long fingers, exhibited signals of the +highest distress. "I need hardly assure you, sir ..." I heard; and +then, "Believe me, sir, when I say...." He was marking time, unhappy +gentleman, for with such phrases does the orator eke out his waning +substance. The lad listened in a critical, staring mood, and once or +twice nodded. While I was wondering how long he was going to put up +with it, presently he jerked his head back and showed Fowkes, by the +look he gave him, that he had had enough of him. The old lawyer knew +it for final, for he straightened his back, then his hat, touched the +brim and made a formal bow. "I leave it so, sir," he said; "I am +content to leave it so;" and then, with every mark of respect, he went +his way into Bedford Row. I noticed that he walked on tiptoe for some +yards, and then more quickly, flapping his arms to his sides. + +The boy stood thoughtful where he was, communing by the looks of him +quite otherwhere, and I had the opportunity to consider him. He +appeared to be a handsome, well-built lad of fifteen or so, big for +his age, and precocious. By that I mean that his scrutiny of life was +mature; that he looked capable, far beyond the warrant of his years. +He was ruddy of complexion, freckled, and had a square chin. His eyes +were light grey, with dark lashes to them; they were startlingly light +and bright for such a sunburnt face, and seemed to glow in it like +steady fires. It was in them that resided, that sat, as it were, +enthroned, that mature, masterful expression which I never saw before +or since in one so young. I have seen the eyes of children look as if +they were searching through our world into another; that is almost +habitual in children. But here was one, apparently a boy, who seemed +to read into our circumstances (as you or I into a well-studied book) +as though they held nothing inexplicable, nothing unaccounted for. +Beyond these singular two eyes of his, his smiling mouth, with its +reminder of archaic statuary, was perhaps his only noticeable feature. +He wore the ordinary uniform of a telegraphic messenger, which in +those days was grey, with a red line down the trousers and a belt for +the tunic. His boots were of the service pattern, so were his +ankle-jacks. His hands were not cleaner than they ought to have been, +his nails well bitten back. Such was he. + +Studying him closely over the top of my newspaper, by-and-by he fixed +me with his intent, bright eyes. My heart beat quicker; but when he +smiled--like the Pallas of gina--I smiled too. Then, without varying +his expression, even while he smiled upon me, he vanished. + +Vanished! There's no other word for it: he vanished; I did not see him +go; I don't know whether he went or where he went. At one moment he +was there, smiling at me, looking into my eyes; at the next moment he +was not there. That's all there is to say about it. I flashed a +glance through the gate into Bedford Row, another up to R---- +Buildings, and even ran to the corner which showed me the length and +breadth of Field Place. He was not gone any of these ways. These +things are certain. + +Now for the sequel. Mere fortune led me at four that afternoon into +Bedford Row. A note had been put into my hands at the Record Office +inviting me to call upon a client whose chambers were in that quarter, +and I complied with it directly my work was over. Now as I walked +along the Row, the boy of that morning's encounter was going into the +entry of the house in which Fowkes and Vizards have their offices. I +had just time to recognise him when the double knock announced his +errand. I stopped immediately; he delivered in a telegram and came +out. I was on the step. Whether he knew me or not he did not look his +knowledge. His eyes went through me, his smiling mouth did not smile +at me. My heart beat, I didn't know why; but I laughed and nodded. He +went his leisurely way and I watched him, this time, almost out of +sight. But while I stood so, watching, old Fowkes came bursting out of +his office, tears streaming down his face, the telegram in his hand. +"Where is he? Where is he?" This was addressed to me. I pointed the +way. Old Fowkes saw his benefactor (as I suppose him to have been) +and began to run. The lad turned round, saw him coming, waved him +away, and then--disappeared. Again he had done it; but old Fowkes, in +no way surprised, stood rooted to the pavement with his hands extended +so far toward the mystery that I could see two or three inches of bony +old wrist beyond his shirt-cuffs. After a while he turned and slowly +came back to his chambers. He seemed now not to see me; or he was +careless whether I saw him or not. As he entered the doorway he held +up the telegram, bent his head and laid a kiss upon the pink paper. + +But that is by no means all. Now I come, to the Richborough story, +which all London that is as old as I am remembers. That part of +London, it may be, will not read this book; or if it does, will not +object to the recall of a case which absorbed it in 1886-87. I am not +going to be indiscreet. The lady married, and the lady left England. +Moreover, naturally, I give no names; but if I did I don't see that +there is anything to be ashamed of in what she was pleased to do with +her hand and person. It was startling to us of those days, it might be +startling in these; what was more than startling was the manner in +which the thing was done. That is known to very few persons indeed. + +I had seen enough upon that April day, whose events form my prelude, +to give me remembrance of the handsome telegraph boy. The next time I +saw him, which was near midnight in July--the place Hyde Park--I knew +him at once. + +I had been sharing in Prince's Gate, with a dull company, an +interminable dinner, one of those at which you eat twice as much as +you intend, or desire, because there is really nothing else to do. On +one side of me I had had a dowager whom I entirely failed to interest, +on the other, a young person who only cared to talk with her left-hand +neighbour. There was a reception afterward to which I had to stop, so +that I could not make my escape till eleven or more. The night was +very hot and it had been raining; but such air as there was was balm +after the still furnace of the rooms. I decided immediately to walk to +my lodging in Camden Town, entered by Prince's Gate, crossed the +Serpentine Bridge and took a bee-line for the Marble Arch. It was +cloudy, but not at all dark. I could see all the ankle-high railings +which beset the unwary passenger and may at any moment break his legs +and his nose, imperil his dignity and ruin his hat. Dimly ahead of me, +upon a broad stretch of grass, I presently became aware of a +concourse. There was no sound to go by, and the light afforded me no +definite forms; the luminous haze was blurred; but certainly people +were there, a multitude of people. I was surprised, but not alarmed. +Save for an occasional wastrel of civilisation, incapable of +degradation and concerned only for sleep, the park is wont to be a +desert at that hour; but the hum of the traffic, the flashing cab +lamps, never quite out of sight, prevent fear. Far from being afraid I +was highly interested, and hastening my steps was soon on the +outskirts of a throng. + +A throng it certainly was, a large body of persons, male and female, +scattered yet held together by a common interest, loitering and +expectant, strangely silent, not concerned with each other, rarely in +couples, with all their faces turned one way--namely, to the +south-east, or (if you want precision) precisely to Hyde Park Corner. +I have remarked upon the silence: that was really surprising; so also +was the order observed, and what you may call decorum. There was no +ribaldry, no skylarking, no shrill discord of laughter without mirth +in it to break the solemnity of the gracious night. These people just +stood or squatted about; if any talked together it was in secret +whispers. It is true that they were under the watch of a tall +policeman; yet he too, I noticed, watched nobody, but looked steadily +to the south-east, with his lantern harmless at his belt. As my eyes +grew used to the gloom I observed that all ranks composed the +company. I made out the shell jacket, the waist and elongated limbs of +a life-guardsman, the open bosom of an able seaman. I happened upon a +young gentleman in the crush hat and Inverness of the current fashion; +I made certain of a woman of the pavement and of ladies of the +boudoir, of a hospital nurse, of a Greenwich pensioner, of two +flower-girls sitting on the edge of one basket, of a shoeblack (I +think), of a costermonger, and a nun. Others there were, and more than +one or two of most categories: in a word, there was an assembly. + +I accosted the policeman, who heard me civilly but without committing +himself. To my first question, what was going to happen? he carefully +answered that he couldn't say, but to my second, with the +irrepressible scorn of one who knows for one who wants to know, he +answered more frankly, "Who are they waiting for? Why, Quidnunc. +Mister Quidnunc. That's who it is. Him they call Quidnunc. So now you +know." In fact, I did not know. He had told me nothing, would tell me +no more, and while I stood pondering the oracle I was sensible of some +common movement run through the company with a thrill, unite them, +intensify them, draw them together to be one people with one faith, +one hope, one assurance. And then the nun, who stood near me, fell to +her knees, crossed herself and began to pray; and not far off her a +slim girl in black turned aside and covered her face with her hands. A +perceptible shiver of emotion, a fluttering sigh such as steals over a +pine-wood toward dawn ran through all ranks. Far to the south-east a +speck of light now showed, which grew in intensity as it came swiftly +nearer, and seemed presently to be a ball of vivid fire surrounded by +a shroud of lit vapour. Again, as by a common consent, the crowd +parted, stood ranked, with an open lane between. The on-coming flare, +grown intolerably bright, now seemed to fade out as it resolved itself +into a human figure. A human figure at the entry of the lane of people +there undoubtedly was, a figure with so much light about him, raying +(I thought) from him, that it was easy to observe his form and +features. Out of the flame and radiant mist he grew, and showed +himself to me in the trim shape and semblance, with the small head and +alert air of a youth; and such as he was, in the belted tunic and +peaked cap of a telegraph messenger, he came smoothly down the lane +formed by the obsequious throng, and stood in the midst of it and +looked keenly, with his cold, clear eyes and fixed and inscrutable +smile, from one expectant face to another. There was no mistaking him +whom all those people so eagerly awaited; he was my former wonder of +Gray's Inn, the saviour of old Mr. Fowkes. + +But all my former wonder paled before this my latter. For he stood +here like some young Eastern king among his slaves, one hand on his +hip, the other at his chin, his face expressionless, his eyes fixed +but unblinking. Meantime, the crowd, which had stretched out arms to +him as he came, was now seated quietly on the grass, intently waiting, +watching for a sign. They sat, all those people, in a wide ring about +him; he was in the midst, a hand to his chin. + +Whether sign was made or not, I saw none; but after some moments of +pause a figure rose erect out of the ring and hobbled toward the boy. +I made out an old woman, an old wreck of womanhood, a scant-haired, +blue-lipped ruin of what had once been woman. I heard her snivel and +sniff and wheeze her "Lord ha' mercy" as she went by, slippering +forward on her miserable feet, hugging to her wasted sides what +remnant of gown she had, fawning before the boy, within the sphere of +light that came from him. If he loathed, or scorned, or pitied her, he +showed no sign; if he saw her at all his fixed eyes looked beyond her; +if he abhorred her, his nostrils did not betray him. He stood like +marble and suffered what followed. It was strange. + +Enacting what seemed to be a proper rite, she put her shaking left +hand upon his right shoulder, her right hand under his chin, as if to +cup it; and then, with sniffs and wailings interspersed, came her +petition to his merciful ears. + +What she precisely asked of him, muttering, wheezing, whining, +snivelling, as she did, repeating herself--with her burthen of "O +dear, O dear, O dear!"--I don't know. Her lost girl, her fine +up-standing girl, her Nance, her only one, figured in it as needing +mercy. Her "Oh, sir, I ask you kindly!" and "Oh, sir, for this once ...!" +made me sick: yet he bore with her as she ran on, dribbling +tears and gin in a mingled flood; he bore with her, heard her in +silence, and in the end, by a look which I was not able to discover, +quieted and sent her shuffling back to her place. So soon as she was +down, the life-guardsman was on his feet, a fine figure of a man. He +marched unfalteringly up, stiffened, saluted, and then, observing the +ritual of hand to shoulder, hand to chin, spoke out his piece like the +honest fellow he was; spoke it aloud and without fear, evenly and +plainly. I thought that he had got it by heart, as I thought also of +another person I was to hear by-and-by. He wanted, badly it seemed, +news of his sweetheart, whom he was careful to call Miss Dixon. She +had last been heard of outside the Brixton Bon March, where she had +been seen with a lady friend, talking to "two young chaps" in +Volunteer uniform. They went up the Brixton Road toward Acre Lane, and +Miss Dixon, at any rate, was never heard of again. It was wearing him +out; he wasn't the man he had been, and had no zest for his meals. She +had never written; his letters to her had come back through the "Dead +Office." He thought he should go out of his mind sometimes; was afraid +to shave, not knowing what he might be after with "them things." If +anything could be done for him he should be thankful. Miss Dixon was +very well connected, and sang in a choir. Here he stopped, saluted, +turned and marched away into the night. I heard him pass a word or two +to the policeman, who turned aside and blew his nose. The hospital +nurse, who spoke in a feverish whisper, then a young woman from the +Piccadilly gas-lamps, who cried and rocked herself about, followed; +and then, to my extreme amazement, two ladies with cloaks and hoods +over evening gowns--one of them a Mrs. Stanhope, who was known to me. +The taller and younger lady, chaperoned by my friend, I did not +recognise. Her face was hidden by her hood. + +I was now more than interested, it seemed to me that I was, in a +sense, implicated. At any rate I felt very delicate about overhearing +what was to come. It is one thing to become absorbed in a ritual the +like of which, in mid-London, you can never have experienced before, +but quite another thing to listen to the secret desires of a friend in +whose house you may have dined within the month. However--by whatever +casuistries I might have compassed it--I did remain. Let me hope, nay, +let me believe of myself that if the postulant had proved to be my +friend, Mrs. Shrewton Stanhope, herself, I should either have stopped +my ears or immediately retired. + +But Mrs. Stanhope, I saw at once, was no more than _dame de +compagnie_. She stood in mid-ring with bent head and hands clasped +before her while the graceful, hooded girl approached nearer to the +mysterious oracle and fulfilled the formal rites demanded of all who +sought his help. Her ringed left hand was laid upon his right +shoulder, her fair right hand upheld his chin. When she began to +speak, which she did immediately and without a tremor, again I had the +sensation of hearing one who had words by heart. This was her burden, +more or less. "I am very unhappy about a certain person. It is Captain +Maxfield. I am engaged to him, and want to break it off. I must do +that--I must indeed. If I don't I shall do a more dreadful thing. I do +hope you will help me. Mrs. ----, my friend, was sure that you would. I +do hope so. I am very unhappy." She had commanded her voice until the +very end; but as she pitied herself there came a break in it. I heard +her catch her breath; I thought she would fall,--and so did Mrs. +Stanhope, it was clear, for she went hurriedly forward and put an arm +round her waist. The younger lady drooped to her shoulder; Mrs. +Stanhope inclined her head to the person--not a sign from him, mind +you--and gently withdrew her charge from the ring. The pair then +hurried across the park in the direction of Knightsbridge, and left +me, I may admit, consuming in the fire of curiosity and excitement +which they had lit. + +Petitions succeeded, of various interest, but they seemed pale and +ineffectual to me. Before all or nearly all of the waiting throng had +been heard I saw uneasiness spread about it. Face turned to face, head +to head; subtle but unmistakable movements indicated unrest. Then, of +the suddenest, amid lifted hands and sighed-forth prayers the youthful +object of so much entreaty, receiver of so many secret sorrows, seemed +to fade and, without effort, to recede. I know not how else to +describe his departure. He backed away, as it were, into the dark. The +people were on their feet ere this. Sighs, wailing, appeals, sobs, +adjurations broke the quietness of the night. Some ran stumbling after +him with extended arms; most of them stayed where they were, watching +him fade, hoping against hope. He emptied himself, so to speak, of +light; he faded backward, diminishing himself to a luminous glow, to a +blur, to a point of light. Thus he was gone. The disappointed crept +silently away, each into silence, solitude and the night, and I found +myself alone with the policeman. + +Now, what in the name of God was all this? I asked him, and must have +it. He gave me some particulars, admitting at the outset that it was a +"go." "They seem to think," he said, "that they will get what they +want out of him--by wire. Let him bring them a wire in the morning; +that's the way of it. Anything in life, from sudden death to a +penn'orth of bird-seed. Death! Ah, I've heard 'em cringe to him for +death, times and again. They crawl for it--they must have it. Can't do +it theirselves, d'ye see? No, no. Let him do it--somehow. Once a week, +during the season--his season, I should say, because he ain't here +always, by no means--they gets about like this; and how they know +where to spot him is more than I can tell you. If I knew it, I +would--but I don't. Nobody knows that--and yet they know it. Sometimes +he's to be found here two weeks running; then it'll be the Regent's +Park, or the Knoll in the Green Park. He's had 'em all the way to +Hampstead before now, and Primrose Hill's a likely place, they tell +me. Telegrams: that's what he gives 'em--if he's got the mind. But +they don't get all they want, not by no means. And some of 'em gets +more than they want, by a lot." He thought, then chuckled at a rather +grim instance. + +"Why, there was old Jack Withers, 'blue-nosed Jack' they calls him, +who works a Hammersmith 'bus! Did you ever hear of that? That was a +good one, if you like. Now you listen. This Jack was coming up the +Brompton Road on his 'bus--and I was on duty by the Boltons and see +him coming. There was that young feller there too--him we've just had +here--standing quiet by a pillar-box, reading a letter. One foot he +had in the roadway, and his back to the 'bus. Up comes old Jack, +pushing his horses, and sees the boy. Gives a great howl like a +tom-cat. 'Hi! you young frog-spawn,' he says, 'out of my road,' and +startled the lad. I see him look up at Jack very steady, and keep his +eye on him. I thought to myself, 'There's something to pay on +delivery, my boy, for this here.' Jack owned up to it afterwards that +he felt queer, but he forgot about it. Now, if you'll believe me, sir, +the very next morning Jack was at London Bridge after his second +journey, when up comes this boy, sauntering into the yard. Comes up to +Jack and nods. 'Name of Withers?' he says. 'That's me,' says old Jack. +'Thought so,' he says. 'Telegram for you.' Jack takes it, opens it, +goes all white. 'Good God!' he says; 'good God Almighty! My wife's +dead!' She'd been knocked down by a Pickford that morning, sure as a +gun. What do you think of that for a start? + +"He served Spotty Smith the fried-eel man just the very same, and lots +more I could tell you about. They call him Quidnunc--Mister Quidnunc, +too, and don't you forget it. There's that about him I--well, sir, if +it was to come to it that I had to lay a hand on him for something out +of Queer Street I shouldn't know how to do it. Now I'm telling you a +fact. I shouldn't--know--how--to--do it." + +He was not, obviously, telling me a fact, but certainly he was much in +earnest. I commented upon the diversity of the company, and so learned +the name of my friend Mrs. Stanhope's friend. He clacked his tongue. +"Bless you," he said, "I've seen better than to-night, though we did +have a slap-up ladyship and all. That was Lady Emily Rich, that young +thing was, Earl of Richborough's family--Grosvenor Place. But we had a +Duchess or something here one night--ah, and a Bishop another, a Lord +Bishop. You'd never believe the tales we hear. He's known to every +night-constable from Woolwich to Putney Bridge--and the company he +gets about him you'd never believe. High and low, and all huddled +together like so many babes in a nursing-home. No distinction. You saw +old Mother Misery get first look-in to-night? My lady waited her turn, +like a good girl!" His voice sank to a whisper. "They tell me he's the +only living soul--if he _is_ a living soul--that's ever been inside +the Stock Exchange and come out tidy. He goes and comes in as he +likes--quite the Little Stranger. They all know him in Throgmorton +Street. No, no. There's more in this than meets the eye, sir. He's not +like you and me. But it's no business of mine. He don't go down in my +pocket-book, I can tell you. I keep out of his way--and with reason. +He never did no harm to me, nor shan't if I can help it. Quidnunc! +Mister Quidnunc! He might be a herald angel for all I know." + +I went my way home and to bed, but was not done with Quidnunc. + +The next day, which was the first day of the Eton and Harrow Match, I +read a short paragraph in the _Echo_, headed "Painful Scene at +Lord's," to the effect that a lady lunching on Lord Richborough's drag +had fainted upon the receipt of a telegram, and would have fallen had +she not been caught by the messenger--"a strongly built youth," it +said, "who thus saved what might have been a serious accident." That +was all, but it gave me food for thought, and a suspicion which +Saturday confirmed in a sufficiently startling way. On that Saturday I +was at luncheon in the First Avenue Hotel in Holborn, when a man came +in--Tendring by name--whom I knew quite well. We exchanged greetings +and sat at our luncheon, talking desultorily. A clerk from his office +brought in a telegram for Tendring. He opened it and seemed +thunder-struck. "Good Lord!" I heard him say. "Good Lord, here's +trouble." I murmured sympathetically, and then he turned to me, quite +beyond the range where reticence avails. "Look here," he said, "this +is a shocking business. A man I know wires to me--from Bow Street. +He's been taken for forgery--that's the charge--and wants me to bail +him out." He got up as we finished and went to write his reply: I +turned immediately to the clerk. "Is the boy waiting?" I asked. He +was. I said "Excuse me, Tendring," and ran out of the restaurant to +the street door. There in the street, as I had suspected, stood my +inscrutable, steady-eyed, smiling Oracle of the night. I stood, +meeting his look as best I might. He showed no recognition of me +whatsoever. Then, as I stood there, Tendring came out. "Call me a +cab," he told the hall-porter; and to Quidnunc he said, "There's no +answer. I'm going at once." Quidnunc went away. + +Now Tendring's friend, I learned by the evening paper, was one Captain +Maxfield of the Royal Engineers. He was committed for trial, bail +refused. I may add that he got seven years. + +So much for Captain Maxfield! But much more for Lady Emily Rich, of +whose fate I have now to tell. My friend, Mrs. Shrewton Stanhope, was +very reserved, would tell me nothing, even when I roundly said that I +had fancied to see her in the park one evening. She had the hardihood +to meet my eyes with a blank denial, and very plainly there was +nothing to be learned from her. A visit, many visits to the London +parks at the hour between eleven and midnight taught me no more; but +being by now thoroughly interested in the affairs of Lady Emily Rich I +made it my business to get a glimpse of her. She was, it seemed, the +only unmarried daughter of the large Richborough family which had done +so well in that sex, and so badly in the other that there was not only +no son, but no male heir to the title. That, indeed, expired with Lady +Emily's father. I don't really know how many daughters there were, or +were not. Most of them married prosperously. One of them became a +Roman princess; one married a Mr. Walker, an American stock-jobber +(with a couple of millions of money); another was Baroness de +Grass--De Grass being a Jew; one became an Anglican nun to the +disgust (I was told) of her family. Lady Emily, whose engagement to +the wretched Maxfield was so dramatically terminated was, I think, the +youngest of them. I saw her one night toward the end of the season at +the Opera. Tendring, who was with me, pointed her out in a box. She +was dressed in black and looked very scared. She hardly moved once +throughout the evening, and when people spoke to her seemed not to +hear. She was certainly a very pretty girl. It may have been fancy, or +it may not, but I could have sworn to the corner of a pinky-brown +envelope sticking out of the bosom of her dress. I don't think I was +mistaken; I had a good look through the glasses. She touched it +shortly afterward and poked it down. At the end I saw her come out. A +tall girl, rather thin; very pretty certainly, but far from well. Her +eyes haunted me; they had what is called a hag-ridden look. And yet, +thought I, she had got her desire of Quidnunc. Ah, but had she? Hear +the end of the tale. + +I say that I saw her come out, that's not quite true. I saw her come +down the staircase and stand with her party in the crowded lobby. She +stood in it, but not of it; for her vague and shadowed eyes sought +otherwhere than in those of the neat-haired young man who was +chattering in front of her. She scanned, rather, the throng of people +anxiously and guardedly at once, as if she was looking for somebody, +and must not be seen to look. As time wore on and the carriage +delayed, her nervousness increased. She seemed to get paler, she shut +her eyes once or twice as though to relieve the strain which watching +and waiting put upon them, and then, quite suddenly, I saw that she +had found what she expected; I saw that her empty eyes were now +filled, that they held something without which they had faded out. In +a word, I saw her look fixedly, fiercely and certainly at something +beyond the lobby. Following the direction she gave me, I looked also. +There, assuredly, in the portico, square, smiling and assured of his +will, I saw Quidnunc stand, and his light eyes upon hers. For quite a +space of time, such as that in which you might count fifteen +deliberately, those two looked at each other. Messages, I am sure, +sped to and fro between them. His seemed to say, "Come, I have +answered you. Now do you answer me." Hers cried her hurt, "Ah, but +what can I do?" His, with their cool mastery of time and occasion, +"You must do as I bid you. There's no other way." Hers pleaded, "Give +me time," and his told her sternly, "I am master of time--since I made +it." The throng of waiting people began to surge toward the door; out +there in the night link-boys yelled great names. I heard "Lord +Richborough's carriage," and saw Lady Emily clap her hand to her side. +I saw her reach the portico and stand there hastily covering her head +with a black scarf; I saw her sway alone there. I saw her party go +down the steps. The next moment Quidnunc flashed to her side. He said +nothing, he did not touch her. He simply looked at her--intently, +smiling, self-possessed, a master. Her face was averted; I could see +her tremble; she bowed her head. Another carriage was announced--the +Richborough coach then was gone. I saw Quidnunc now put his hand upon +her arm; she turned him her face, a faint and tender smile, very +beautiful and touching, met his own. He drew her with him out of the +press and into the burning dark. London never saw her again. + +I don't attempt to explain what is to me inexplicable. Was my +policeman right when he called Quidnunc a herald angel? Is there any +substance behind the surmise that the ancient gods still sway the +souls and bodies of men? Was Quidnunc, that swift, remorseless, +smiling messenger, that god of the winged feet? The Argephont? Who +can answer these things? All I have to tell you by way of an epilogue +is this. + +A curate of my acquaintance, a curate of St. Peter's, Eaton Square, +some few years after these events, took his holiday in Greece. He +went out as one of a tourist party, but having more time at his +disposal than was contemplated by the contracting agency, he stayed +on, chartered a dragoman and wandered far and wide. On his return he +told me that he had seen Lady Emily Rich at Pher in Arcadia, and that +he had spoken to her. He had seen her sitting on the door-step of a +one-storied white house, spinning flax. She wore the costume of the +peasants, which he told me is very picturesque. Two or three +half-naked children tumbled about her. They were beautiful as angels, +he said, with curly golden hair and extremely light eyes. He noticed +that particularly, and recurred to it more than once. Now Lady Emily +was a dark girl, with eyes so deeply blue as to be almost black. + +My friend spoke to her, he said. He had seen that she recognised him; +in fact, she bowed to him. He felt that he could not disregard her. +Mere commonplaces were exchanged. She told him that her husband was +away on a journey. She fancied that he had been in England; but she +explained half-laughingly that she knew very little about his affairs, +and was quite content to leave them to him. She had her children to +look after. My friend was surprised that she asked no question of +England or family matters; but, in the circumstances, he added, he +hardly liked to refer to them. She served him with bread and wine +before he left her. All he could say was that she appeared to be +perfectly happy. + +It is odd, and perhaps it is more than odd, that there was a famous +temple of Hermes in Pher in former times. Pindar, I believe, +acclaimed it in one of his Epinikean odes; but I have not been able to +verify the reference. + + + + +THE SECRET COMMONWEALTH + + +The interest of my matter has caused me to lose sight of myself and to +fail in my account of the flight of time over my head. That is, +however, comparable with the facts, which were that my attention was +then become solely objective. I had other things to think of than the +development of my own nature. I had other things to think of, indeed, +than those which surround us all, and press upon us until we become +permanently printed by their contact. Solitary as I had ever been in +mind, I now became literally so by choice. I became wholly absorbed in +that circumambient world of being which was graciously opening itself +to my perceptions--how I knew not. I was in a state of momentary +expectation of apparitions; as I went about my ostensible business I +had my ears quick and my eyes wide for signs and tokens that I was +surrounded by a seething and whirling invisible population of beings, +like ourselves, but glorified: yet unlike ourselves in this, that what +seemed entirely right, because natural, to them would have been in +ourselves horrible. The ruthlessness, for instance, of Quidnunc as he +pursued and obtained his desire, had Quidnunc been a human creature, +would have been revolting; the shamelessness of the fairy wife of +Ventris had she been capable of shame, how shameful had that been! But +I knew that these creatures were not human; I knew that they were not +under our law; and so I explained everything to myself. But to myself +only. It is not enough to explain a circumstance by negatives. If +Quidnunc and Mrs. Ventris were not under our law, neither are the sun, +moon and stars, neither are the apes and peacocks. But all these are +under some law, since law is the essence of the Kosmos. Under what law +then were Mrs. Ventris and Quidnunc? I burned to know that. For many +years of my life that knowledge was my steady desire; but I had no +means at hand of satisfying it. Reading? Well, I did read in a +fashion. I read, for example, Grimm's _Teutonic Mythology_, a stout +and exceedingly dull work in three volumes of a most unsatisfying +kind. I read other books of the same sort, chiefly German, dealing in +etymology, which I readily allow is a science of great value within +its proper sphere. But to Grimm and his colleagues etymology seemed to +me to be the contents of the casket rather than the key; for Grimm and +his colleagues started with a prejudice, that Gods, fairies and the +rest have never existed and don't exist. To them the interest of the +inquiry is not what is the nature, what are the laws of such beings, +but what is the nature of the primitive people who imagined the +existence of such beings? I very soon found out that Grimm and his +colleagues had nothing to tell me. + +Then there was another class of book; that which dealt in demonology +and witchcraft, exemplified by a famous work called _Satan's Invisible +World Discovered_. Writers of these things may or may not have +believed in witches and fairies (which they classed together); but in +any event they believed them to be wicked, the abomination of +uncleanness. That made them false witnesses. My judgment revolted +against such ridiculous assumptions. Here was a case, you see, where +writers treated their subject too seriously, having the pulpit-cushion +ever below their hand, and the fear of the Ordinary before their +eyes.[3] Grimm and his friends, on the other hand, took it too +lightly, seeing in it matter for a treatise on language. I got no good +out of either school, and as time goes on I don't see a prospect of +any adequate handling of the theme. I should like to think that I +myself was to be the man to expound the fairy-kind candidly and +methodically--candidly, that is, without going to literature for my +data, and with the notion definitely out of mind that the fairy +God-mother ever existed. But I shall never be that man, for though I +am candid to the point of weakness, I am not to flatter myself that I +have method. But to whomsoever he may be that undertakes the subject I +can promise that the documents await their historian, and I will +furnish him with a title which will indicate at a glance both the +spirit of his attack and the nature of his treatise. + +[Footnote 3: The Reverend Robert Kirk, author of the _Secret +Commonwealth_, was a clergyman and a believer in the beings of whom +his book professed to treat. He found them a place in his Pantheon; +but he knew very little about them. I shall have to speak of him again +I expect. He is himself an object-lesson, though his teachings are +naught.] + +"The Natural History of the Prternatural" it should be. I make him a +present of that--the only possible line for a sincere student. God go +with him whosoever he be, for he will have rare qualities and rare +need of them. He must be cheerful without assumption, respectful +without tragic airs, as respectable as he please in the eyes of his +own law, so that he finds respect in his heart also for the laws of +the realm in which he is privileged to trade. Let him not stand, as +the priest in the Orthodox Church, a looming hierophant. Let him avoid +any rhetorical pose, any hint of the grand manner. Above all, let him +not wear the smirk of the conjuror when he prepares with flourishes to +whip the handkerchief away from his guinea-pig. Here is one who +condescends to reader and subject alike. He would do harm all round: +moreover he would be a quack, for he is just as much of a quack who +makes little of much as he who makes much of little. No! Let his +attitude be that of the contadino in some vast church in Italy, who +walking into the cool dark gazes round-eyed at the twinkling candles +ahead of him in the vague, and that he may recover himself a little +leans against a pillar for a while, his hat against his heart and his +lips muttering an Ave. Reassured by his prayer, or the peace of the +great place, he presently espies the sacristan about to uncover a +picture not often shown. Here is an occasion! The tourists are +gathered, intent upon their Baedekers; he tiptoes up behind them and +kneels by another pillar--for the pillars of a church are his friendly +rocks, touching which he can face the unknown. The curtain is brailed +up, and the blue and crimson, the mournful eyes, the wimple, the +pointed chin, the long idle fingers are revealed upon their golden +background. While the girls flock about papa with his book, and mamma +wonders where we shall have luncheon, Annibale, assured familiar of +Heaven, beatified at no expense to himself, settles down to a quiet +talk with the Mother of God. His attitude is perfect, and so is hers. +The firmament is not to be shaken, but Annibale is not a _farceur_, +nor his Blessed One absurd. Mysteries are all about us. Some are for +the eschatologist and some for the shepherd; some for Patmos and some +for the _podere_. Let our historian remember, in fact, that the +natures into which he invites us to pry are those of the little +divinities of earth and he can't go very far wrong. Nor can we. + +That, I am bold to confess, is my own attitude toward a lovely order +of creation. Perhaps I may go on to give him certain hints of +treatment. Nearly all of them, I think, tend to the same point--the +discarding of literature. Literature, being a man's art, is at its +best and also at its worst, in its dealing with women. No man, +perhaps, is capable of writing of women as they really are, though +every man thinks he is. A curious consequence to the history of +fairies has been that literature has recognised no males in that +community, and that of the females it has described it has selected +only those who are enamoured of men or disinclined to them. The fact, +of course, is that the fairy world is peopled very much as our own, +and that, with great respect to Shakespeare, an Ariel, a Puck, a +Titania, a Peas-blossom are abnormal. It is as rare to find a fairy +capable of discerning man as the converse is rare. I have known a +person intensely aware of the Spirits that reside, for instance, in +flowers, in the wind, in rivers and hills, none the less bereft of +any intercourse whatever with these interesting beings by the simple +fact that they themselves were perfectly unconscious of him. It is +greatly to be doubted whether Shakespeare ever saw a fairy, though his +age believed in fairies, but almost certain that Shelley must have +seen many, whose age did not believe. If our author is to have a +poetical guide at all it had better be Shelley. + +Literature will tell him that fairies are benevolent or mischievous, +and tradition, borrowing from literature, will confirm it. The +proposition is ridiculous. It would be as wise to say that a gnat is +mischievous when it stings you, or a bee benevolent because he cannot +prevent you stealing his honey. There would be less talk of benevolent +bees if the gloves were off. That is the pathetic fallacy again; and +that is man all over. Will nothing, I wonder, convince him that he is +not the centre of the Universe? If Darwin, Newton, Galileo, Copernicus +and Sir Norman Lockyer have failed, is it my turn to try? Modesty +forbids. Besides, I am prejudiced. I think man, in the conduct of his +business, inferior to any vegetable. I am a tainted source. But such +talk is idle, and so is that which cries havoc upon fairy morality. +Heaven knows that it differs from our own; but Heaven also knows that +our own differs _inter nos_; and that to discuss the customs and +habits of the Japanese in British parlours is a vain thing. _The +Forsaken Merman_ is a beautiful poem, but not a safe guide to those +who would relate the ways of the spirits of the sea. But all this is +leading me too far from my present affair, which is to relate how the +knowledge of these things--of these beings and of their laws--came +upon me, and how their nature influenced mine. I have said enough, I +think, to establish the necessity of a good book upon the subject, and +I take leave to flatter myself that these pages of my own will be +indispensable Prolegomena to any such work, or to any research tending +to its compilation. + +In the absence of books, in the situation in which I found myself of +reticence, I could do nothing but brood upon the things I had seen. +Insensibly my imagination (latent while I had been occupied with +observation) began to work. I did not write, but I pictured, and my +waking dreams became so vivid that I was in a fair way to treat them +as the only reality, and might have discarded the workaday world +altogether. Luckily for me, my disposition was tractable and +law-abiding. I fulfilled by habit the duties of the day; I toiled at +my dreary work, ate and slept, wrote to my parents, visited them, +having got those tasks as it were by heart, but I went through the +rites like an automaton; my mind was elsewhere, intensely dogging the +heels of that winged steed, my fancy, panting in its tracks, and +perfectly content so only that it did not come up too late to witness +the glories which its bold flights discovered. Thanks to it--all +thanks to it--I did not become a nympholept. I did not haunt +Parliament Hill o' nights. I did not spy upon the darkling motions of +Mrs. Ventris. Desire, appetite, sex were not involved at all in this +affair; nor yet was love. I was very prone to love, but I did not love +Mrs. Ventris. In whatsoever fairy being I had seen there had been +nothing which held physical attraction for me. There could be no +allure when there was no lure. So far as I could tell, not one of +these creatures--except Quidnunc, and possibly the Dryad, the sun-dyed +nymph I had seen long ago in K---- Park--had been aware of my +presence. I guessed, though I did not know (as I do now) that +manifestation is not always mutual, but that a man may see a fairy +without being seen, and conversely, a fairy may be fully aware of +mankind or of some man or men without any suspicion of theirs. +Moreover, though I saw them all extraordinarily beautiful, I had never +yet seen one supremely desirable. The instinct to possess, which is an +essential part of the love-passion of every man--had never stirred in +me in the presence of these creatures. If it had I should have +yielded to it, I doubt not, since there was no moral law to hold me +back. But it never had, so far, and I was safe from the wasting misery +of seeking that which could not, from its very nature (and mine) be +sought. + +There was really nothing I could do, therefore, but wait, and that is +what I did. I waited intensely, very much as a terrier waits at the +hole of the bolting rabbit. By the merest accident I got a clew to a +very interesting case which added enormously to my knowledge. It was a +clear case of fairy child-theft, the clearest I ever met with. I shall +devote a chapter to it, having been at the pains to verify it in all +particulars. I did not succeed in meeting the hero, or victim of it, +because, though the events related took place in 1887, they were not +recorded until 1892, when the record came into my hands. By that time +the two persons concerned had left the country and were settled in +Florida. I did see Mr. Walsh, the Nonconformist Minister who +communicated the tale to his local society, but he was both a dull and +a cautious man, and had very little to tell me. He had himself seen +nothing, he only had Beckwith's word to go upon and did not feel +certain that the whole affair was not an hallucination on the young +man's part. That the child had disappeared was certain, that both +parents were equally distressed is certain. Not a shred of suspicion +attached to the unhappy Beckwith. But Mr. Walsh told me that he felt +the loss so keenly and blamed himself so severely, though +unreasonably, to my thinking, that it would have been impossible for +him to remain in England. He said that the full statement communicated +to the Field Club was considered by the young man in the light of a +confession of his share in the tragedy. It would, he said, have been +exorbitant to expect more of him. And I quite agree with him; and now +had better give the story as I found it. + + + + +BECKWITH'S CASE + + +The facts were as follows. Mr. Stephen Mortimer Beckwith was a young +man living at Wishford in the Amesbury district of Wiltshire. He was a +clerk in the Wilts and Dorset Bank at Salisbury, was married and had +one child. His age at the time of the experience here related was +twenty-eight. His health was excellent. + +On the 30th November, 1887, at about ten o'clock at night, he was +returning home from Amesbury where he had been spending the evening at +a friend's house. The weather was mild, with a rain-bearing wind +blowing in squalls from the south-west. It was three-quarter moon that +night, and although the sky was frequently overcast it was at no time +dark. Mr. Beckwith, who was riding a bicycle and accompanied by his +fox-terrier Strap, states that he had no difficulty in seeing and +avoiding the stones cast down at intervals by the road-menders; that +flocks of sheep in the hollows were very visible, and that, passing +Wilsford House, he saw a barn owl quite plainly and remarked its +heavy, uneven flight. + +A mile beyond Wilsford House, Strap, the dog, broke through the +quick-set hedge upon his right-hand side and ran yelping up the down, +which rises sharply just there. Mr. Beckwith, who imagined that he was +after a hare, whistled him in, presently calling him sharply, "Strap, +Strap, come out of it." The dog took no notice, but ran directly to a +clump of gorse and bramble half-way up the down, and stood there in +the attitude of a pointer, with uplifted paw, watching the gorse +intently, and whining. Mr. Beckwith was by this time dismounted, +observing the dog. He watched him for some minutes from the road. The +moon was bright, the sky at the moment free from cloud. + +He himself could see nothing in the gorse, though the dog was +undoubtedly in a high state of excitement. It made frequent rushes +forward, but stopped short of the object that it saw and trembled. It +did not bark outright but rather whimpered--"a curious, shuddering, +crying noise," says Mr. Beckwith. Interested by the animal's +persistent and singular behaviour, he now sought a gap in the hedge, +went through on to the down, and approached the clumped bushes. Strap +was so much occupied that he barely noticed his master's coming; it +seemed as if he dared not take his eyes for one second from what he +saw in there. + +Beckwith, standing behind the dog, looked into the gorse. From the +distance at which he still stood he could see nothing at all. His +belief then was that there was either a tramp in a drunken sleep, +possibly two tramps, or a hare caught in a wire, or possibly even a +fox. Having no stick with him he did not care, at first, to go any +nearer, and contented himself with urging on his terrier. This was not +very courageous of him, as he admits, and was quite unsuccessful. No +verbal excitations would draw Strap nearer to the furze-bush. Finally +the dog threw up his head, showed his master the white arcs of his +eyes and fairly howled at the moon. At this dismal sound Mr. Beckwith +owned himself alarmed. It was, as he describes it--though he is an +Englishman--"uncanny." The time, he owns, the aspect of the night, +loneliness of the spot (midway up the steep slope of a chalk down), +the mysterious shroud of darkness upon shadowed and distant objects +and flood of white light upon the foreground--all these circumstances +worked upon his imagination. + +He was indeed for retreat; but here Strap was of a different mind. +Nothing would excite him to advance, but nothing either could induce +him to retire. Whatever he saw in the furze-bush Strap must continue +to observe. In the face of this Beckwith summoned up his courage, took +it in both hands and went much nearer to the furze-bushes, much +nearer, that is, than Strap the terrier could bring himself to go. +Then, he tells us, he did see a pair of bright eyes far in the +thicket, which seemed to be fixed upon his, and by degrees also a pale +and troubled face. Here, then, was neither fox nor drunken tramp, but +some human creature, man, woman, or child, fully aware of him and of +the dog. + +Beckwith, who now had surer command of his feelings, spoke aloud +asking, "What are you doing there? What's the matter?" He had no +reply. He went one pace nearer, being still on his guard, and spoke +again. "I won't hurt you," he said. "Tell me what the matter is." The +eyes remained unwinkingly fixed upon his own. No movement of the +features could be discerned. The face, as he could now make it out, +was very small--"about as big as a big wax doll's," he says, "of a +longish oval, very pale." He adds, "I could see its neck now, no +thicker than my wrist; and where its clothes began. I couldn't see any +arms, for a good reason. I found out afterward that they had been +bound behind its back. I should have said immediately, 'That's a girl +in there,' if it had not been for one or two plain considerations. It +had not the size of what we call a girl, nor the face of what we mean +by a child. It was, in fact, neither fish, flesh, nor fowl. Strap had +known that from the beginning, and now I was of Strap's opinion +myself." + +Advancing with care, a step at a time, Beckwith presently found +himself within touching distance of the creature. He was now standing +with furze half-way up his calves, right above it, stooping to look +closely at it; and as he stooped and moved, now this way, now that, to +get a clearer view, so the crouching thing's eyes gazed up to meet +his, and followed them about, as if safety lay only in that +never-shifting, fixed regard. He had noticed, and states in his +narrative, that Strap had seemed quite unable, in the same way, to +take his eyes off the creature for a single second. + +He could now see that, of whatever nature it might be, it was, in form +and features, most exactly a young woman. The features, for instance, +were regular and fine. He remarks in particular upon the chin. All +about its face, narrowing the oval of it, fell dark glossy curtains of +hair, very straight and glistening with wet. Its garment was cut in a +plain circle round the neck, and short off at the shoulders, leaving +the arms entirely bare. This garment, shift, smock or gown, as he +indifferently calls it, appeared thin, and was found afterward to be +of a grey colour, soft and clinging to the shape. It was made loose, +however, and gathered in at the waist. He could not see the +creature's legs, as they were tucked under her. Her arms, it has been +related, were behind her back. The only other things to be remarked +upon were the strange stillness of one who was plainly suffering, and +might well be alarmed, and appearance of expectancy, a dumb appeal; +what he himself calls rather well "an ignorant sort of impatience, +like that of a sick animal." + +"Come," Beckwith now said, "let me help you up. You will get cold if +you sit here. Give me your hand, will you?" She neither spoke nor +moved; simply continued to search his eyes. Strap, meantime, was still +trembling and whining. But now, when he stooped yet lower to take her +forcibly by the arms, she shrank back a little way and turned her +head, and he saw to his horror that she had a great open wound in the +side of her neck--from which, however, no blood was issuing. Yet it +was clearly a fresh wound, recently made. + +He was greatly shocked. "Good God," he said, "there's been foul play +here," and whipped out his handkerchief. Kneeling, he wound it several +times round her slender throat and knotted it as tightly as he could; +then, without more ado, he took her up in his arms, under the knees +and round the middle, and carried her down the slope to the road. He +describes her as of no weight at all. He says it was "exactly like +carrying an armful of feathers about." "I took her down the hill and +through the hedge at the bottom as if she had been a pillow." + +Here it was that he discovered that her wrists were bound together +behind her back with a kind of plait of thongs so intricate that he +was quite unable to release them. He felt his pockets for his knife, +but could not find it, and then recollected suddenly that he should +have a new one with him, the third prize in a whist tournament in +which he had taken part that evening. He found it wrapped in paper in +his overcoat pocket, with it cut the thongs and set the little +creature free. She immediately responded--the first sign of animation +which she had displayed--by throwing both her arms about his body and +clinging to him in an ecstasy. Holding him so that, as he says, he +felt the shuddering go all through her, she suddenly lowered her head +and touched his wrist with her cheek. He says that instead of being +cold to the touch, "like a fish," as she had seemed to be when he +first took her out of the furze, she was now "as warm as a toast, like +a child." + +So far he had put her down for "a foreigner," convenient term for +defining something which you do not quite understand. She had none of +his language, evidently; she was undersized, some three feet six +inches by the look of her,[4] and yet perfectly proportioned. She was +most curiously dressed in a frock cut to the knee, and actually in +nothing else at all. It left her bare-legged and bare-armed, and was +made, as he puts it himself, of stuff like cobweb: "those dusty, +drooping kind which you put on your finger to stop bleeding." He could +not recognise the web, but was sure that it was neither linen nor +cotton. It seemed to stick to her body wherever it touched a prominent +part: "you could see very well, to say nothing of feeling, that she +was well made and well nourished." She ought, as he judged, to be a +child of five years old, "and a feather-weight at that"; but he felt +certain that she must be "much more like sixteen." It was that, I +gather, which made him suspect her of being something outside +experience. So far, then, it was safe to call her a foreigner: but he +was not yet at the end of his discoveries. + +[Footnote 4: Her exact measurements are stated to have been as +follows: height from crown to sole, 3 feet 5 inches. Round waist, 15 +inches; round bust, 21 inches; round wrist, 3-1/2 inches; round neck, +7-1/2 inches.] + +Heavy footsteps, coming from the direction of Wishford, in due time +proved to be those of Police Constable Gulliver, a neighbour of +Beckwith's and guardian of the peace in his own village. He lifted his +lantern to flash it into the traveller's eyes, and dropped it again +with a pleasant "good evening." + +He added that it was inclined to be showery, which was more than +true, as it was at the moment raining hard. With that, it seems, he +would have passed on. + +But Beckwith, whether smitten by self-consciousness of having been +seen with a young woman in his arms at a suspicious hour of the night +by the village policeman, or bursting perhaps with the importance of +his affair, detained Gulliver. "Just look at this," he said boldly. +"Here's a pretty thing to have found on a lonely road. Foul play +somewhere, I'm afraid," he then exhibited his burden to the lantern +light. + +To his extreme surprise, however, the constable, after exploring the +beam of light and all that it contained for some time in silence, +reached out his hand for the knife which Beckwith still held open. He +looked at it on both sides, examined the handle and gave it back. +"Foul play, Mr. Beckwith?" he said laughing. "Bless you, they use +bigger tools than that. That's just a toy, the like of that. Cut your +hand with it, though, already, I see." He must have noticed the +handkerchief, for as he spoke the light from his lantern shone full +upon the face and neck of the child, or creature, in the young man's +arms, so clearly that, looking down at it, Beckwith himself could see +the clear grey of its intensely watchful eyes, and the very pupils of +them, diminished to specks of black. It was now, therefore, plain to +him that what he held was a foreigner indeed, since the parish +constable was unable to see it. Strap had smelt it, then seen it, and +he, Beckwith, had seen it; but it was invisible to Gulliver. "I felt +now," he says in his narrative, "that something was wrong. I did not +like the idea of taking it into the house; but I intended to make one +more trial before I made up my mind about that. I said good night to +Gulliver, put her on my bicycle and pushed her home. But first of all +I took the handkerchief from her neck and put it in my pocket. There +was no blood upon it, that I could see." + +His wife, as he had expected, was waiting at the gate for him. She +exclaimed, as he had expected, upon the lateness of the hour. Beckwith +stood for a little in the roadway before the house, explaining that +Strap had bolted up the hill and had had to be looked for and fetched +back. While speaking he noticed that Mrs. Beckwith was as insensible +to the creature on the bicycle as Gulliver the constable had been. +Indeed, she went much further to prove herself so than he, for she +actually put her hand upon the handle-bar of the machine, and in order +to do that drove it right through the centre of the girl crouching +there. Beckwith saw that done. "I declare solemnly upon my honour," he +writes, "that it was as if Mary had drilled a hole clean through the +middle of her back. Through gown and skin and bone and all her arm +went; and how it went I don't know. To me it seemed that her hand was +on the handle-bar, while her upper arm, to the elbow, was in between +the girl's shoulders. There was a gap from the elbow downwards where +Mary's arm was inside the body; then from the creature's diaphragm her +lower arm, wrist and hand came out. And all the time we were speaking +the girl's eyes were on my face. I was now quite determined that I +wouldn't have her in the house for a mint of money." + +He put her, finally, in the dog-kennel. Strap, as a favourite, lived +in the house; but he kept a greyhound in the garden, in a kennel +surrounded by a sort of run made of iron poles and galvanised wire. It +was roofed in with wire also, for the convenience of stretching a +tarpaulin in wet weather. Here it was that he bestowed the strange +being rescued from the down. + +It was clever, I think, of Beckwith to infer that what Strap had shown +respect for would be respected by the greyhound, and certainly bold of +him to act upon his inference. However, events proved that he had been +perfectly right. Bran, the greyhound, was interested, highly +interested in his guest. The moment he saw his master he saw what he +was carrying. "Quiet, Bran, quiet there," was a very unnecessary +adjuration. Bran stretched up his head and sniffed, but went no +further; and when Beckwith had placed his burden on the straw inside +the kennel, Bran lay down, as if on guard, outside the opening and put +his muzzle on his forepaws. Again Beckwith noticed that curious +appearance of the eyes which the fox-terrier's had made already. +Bran's eyes were turned upward to show the narrow arcs of white. + +Before he went to bed, he tells us, but not before Mrs. Beckwith had +gone there, he took out a bowl of bread and milk to his patient. Bran +he found to be still stretched out before the entry; the girl was +nestled down in the straw, as if asleep or prepared to be so, with her +face upon her hand. Upon an after-thought he went back for a clean +pocket handkerchief, warm water and a sponge. With these, by the light +of a candle, he washed the wound, dipped the rag in hazeline, and +applied it. This done, he touched the creature's head, nodded a good +night and retired. "She smiled at me very prettily," he says. "That +was the first time she did it." + +There was no blood on the handkerchief which he had removed. + +Early in the morning following upon the adventure Beckwith was out and +about. He wished to verify the overnight experiences in the light of +refreshed intelligence. On approaching the kennel he saw at once that +it had been no dream. There, in fact, was the creature of his +discovery playing with Bran the greyhound, circling sedately about +him, weaving her arms, pointing her toes, arching her graceful neck, +stooping to him, as if inviting him to sport, darting away--"like a +fairy," says Beckwith, "at her magic, dancing in a ring." Bran, he +observed, made no effort to catch her, but crouched rather than sat, +as if ready to spring. He followed her about with his eyes as far as +he could; but when the course of her dance took her immediately behind +him he did not turn his head, but kept his eye fixed as far backward +as he could, against the moment when she should come again into the +scope of his vision. "It seemed as important to him as it had the day +before to Strap to keep her always in his eye. It seemed--and always +seemed so long as I could study them together--intensely important." +Bran's mouth was stretched to "a sort of grin"; occasionally he +panted. When Beckwith entered the kennel and touched the dog (which +took little notice of him) he found him trembling with excitement. His +heart was beating at a great rate. He also drank quantities of water. + +Beckwith, whose narrative, hitherto summarised, I may now quote, tells +us that the creature was indescribably graceful and light-footed. +"You couldn't hear the fall of her foot: you never could. Her dancing +and circling about the cage seemed to be the most important business +of her life; she was always at it, especially in bright weather. I +shouldn't have called it restlessness so much as busyness. It really +seemed to mean more to her than exercise or irritation at confinement. +It was evident also that she was happy when so engaged. She used to +sing. She sang also when she was sitting still with Bran; but not with +such exhilaration. + +"Her eyes were bright--when she was dancing about--with mischief and +devilry. I cannot avoid that word, though it does not describe what I +really mean. She looked wild and outlandish and full of fun, as if she +knew that she was teasing the dog, and yet couldn't help herself. When +you say of a child that he looks wicked, you don't mean it literally; +it is rather a compliment than not. So it was with her and her +wickedness. She did look wicked, there's no mistake--able and willing +to do wickedly; but I am sure she never meant to hurt Bran. They were +always firm friends, though the dog knew very well who was master. + +"When you looked at her you did not think of her height. She was so +complete; as well made as a statuette. I could have spanned her waist +with my two thumbs and middle fingers, and her neck (very nearly) +with one hand. She was pale and inclined to be dusky in complexion, +but not so dark as a gipsy; she had grey eyes, and dark-brown hair, +which she could sit upon if she chose. Her gown you could have sworn +was made of cobweb; I don't know how else to describe it. As I had +suspected, she wore nothing else, for while I was there that first +morning, so soon as the sun came up over the hill she slipped it off +her and stood up dressed in nothing at all. She was a regular little +Venus--that's all I can say. I never could get accustomed to that +weakness of hers for slipping off her frock, though no doubt it was +very absurd. She had no sort of shame in it, so why on earth should I? + +"The food, I ought to mention, had disappeared: the bowl was empty. +But I know now that Bran must have had it. So long as she remained in +the kennel or about my place she never ate anything, nor drank either. +If she had I must have known it, as I used to clean the run out every +morning. I was always particular about that. I used to say that you +couldn't keep dogs too clean. But I tried her, unsuccessfully, with +all sorts of things: flowers, honey, dew--for I had read somewhere +that fairies drink dew and suck honey out of flowers. She used to look +at the little messes I made for her, and when she knew me better +would grimace at them, and look up in my face and laugh at me. + +"I have said that she used to sing sometimes. It was like nothing that +I can describe. Perhaps the wind in the telegraph wire comes nearest +to it, and yet that is an absurd comparison. I could never catch any +words; indeed I did not succeed in learning a single word of her +language. I doubt very much whether they have what we call a +language--I mean the people who are like her, her own people. They +communicate with each other, I fancy, as she did with my dogs, +inarticulately, but with perfect communication and understanding on +either side. When I began to teach her English I noticed that she had +a kind of pity for me, a kind of contempt perhaps is nearer the mark, +that I should be compelled to express myself in so clumsy a way. I am +no philosopher, but I imagine that our need of putting one word after +another may be due to our habit of thinking in sequence. If there is +no such thing as Time in the other world it should not be necessary +there to frame speech in sentences at all. I am sure that Thumbeline +(which was my name for her--I never learned her real name) spoke with +Bran and Strap in flashes which revealed her whole thought at once. So +also they answered her, there's no doubt. So also she contrived to +talk with my little girl, who, although she was four years old and a +great chatterbox, never attempted to say a single word of her own +language to Thumbeline, yet communicated with her by the hour +together. But I did not know anything of this for a month or more, +though it must have begun almost at once. + +"I blame myself for it, myself only. I ought, of course, to have +remembered that children are more likely to see fairies than +grown-ups; but then--why did Florrie keep it all secret? Why did she +not tell her mother, or me, that she had seen a fairy in Bran's +kennel? The child was as open as the day, yet she concealed her +knowledge from both of us without the least difficulty. She seemed the +same careless, laughing child she had always been; one could not have +supposed her to have a care in the world, and yet, for nearly six +months she must have been full of care, having daily secret +intercourse with Thumbeline and keeping her eyes open all the time +lest her mother or I should find her out. Certainly she could have +taught me something in the way of keeping secrets. I know that I kept +mine very badly, and blame myself more than enough for keeping it at +all. God knows what we might have been spared if, on the night I +brought her home, I had told Mary the whole truth! And yet--how could +I have convinced her that she was impaling some one with her arm +while her hand rested on the bar of the bicycle? Is not that an +absurdity on the face of it? Yes, indeed; but the sequel is no +absurdity. That's the terrible fact. + +"I kept Thumbeline in the kennel for the whole winter. She seemed +happy enough there with the dogs, and, of course, she had had Florrie, +too, though I did not find that out until the spring. I don't doubt, +now, that if I had kept her in there altogether she would have been +perfectly contented. + +"The first time I saw Florrie with her I was amazed. It was a Sunday +morning. There was our four-year-old child standing at the wire, +pressing herself against it, and Thumbeline close to her. Their faces +almost touched; their fingers were interlaced; I am certain that they +were speaking to each other in their own fashion, by flashes, without +words. I watched them for a bit; I saw Bran come and sit up on his +haunches and join in. He looked from one to another, and all about; +and then he saw me. + +"Now that is how I know that they were all three in communication; +because, the very next moment, Florrie turned round and ran to me, and +said in her pretty baby-talk, 'Talking to Bran. Florrie talking to +Bran.' If this was wilful deceit it was most accomplished. It could +not have been better done. 'And who else were you talking to, +Florrie?' I said. She fixed her round blue eyes upon me, as if in +wonder, then looked away and said shortly, 'No one else.' And I could +not get her to confess or admit then or at any time afterward that she +had any cognisance at all of the fairy in Bran's kennel, although +their communications were daily, and often lasted for hours at a time. +I don't know that it makes things any better, but I have thought +sometimes that the child believed me to be as insensible to Thumbeline +as her mother was. She can only have believed it at first, of course, +but that may have prompted her to a concealment which she did not +afterwards care to confess to. + +"Be this as it may, Florrie, in fact, behaved with Thumbeline exactly +as the two dogs did. She made no attempt to catch her at her circlings +and wheelings about the kennel, nor to follow her wonderful dances, +nor (in her presence) to imitate them. But she was (like the dogs) +aware of nobody else when under the spell of Thumbeline's personality; +and when she had got to know her she seemed to care for nobody else at +all. I ought, no doubt, to have foreseen that and guarded against it. + +"Thumbeline was extremely attractive. I never saw such eyes as hers, +such mysterious fascination. She was nearly always good-tempered, +nearly always happy; but sometimes she had fits of temper and kept +herself to herself. Nothing then would get her out of the kennel, +where she would lie curled up like an animal with her knees to her +chin and one arm thrown over her face. Bran was always wretched at +these times, and did all he knew to coax her out. He ceased to care +for me or my wife after she came to us, and instead of being wild at +the prospect of his Saturday and Sunday runs, it was hard to get him +along. I had to take him on a lead until we had turned to go home; +then he would set off by himself, in spite of hallooing and scolding, +at a long steady gallop and one would find him waiting crouched at the +gate of his run, and Thumbeline on the ground inside it, with her legs +crossed like a tailor, mocking and teasing him with her wonderful +shining eyes. Only once or twice did I see her worse than sick or +sorry; then she was transported with rage and another person +altogether. She never touched me--and why or how I had offended her I +have no notion[5]--but she buzzed and hovered about me like an angry +bee. She appeared to have wings, which hummed in their furious +movement; she was red in the face, her eyes burned; she grinned at me +and ground her little teeth together. A curious shrill noise came +from her, like the screaming of a gnat or hoverfly; but no words, +never any words. Bran showed me his teeth too, and would not look at +me. It was very odd. + +[Footnote 5: "I have sometimes thought," he adds in a note, "that it +may have been jealousy. My wife had been with me in the garden and had +stuck a daffodil in my coat."] + +"When I looked in, on my return home, she was as merry as usual, and +as affectionate. I think she had no memory. + +"I am trying to give all the particulars I was able to gather from +observation. In some things she was difficult, in others very easy to +teach. For instance, I got her to learn in no time that she ought to +wear her clothes, such as they were, when I was with her. She +certainly preferred to go without them, especially in the sunshine; +but by leaving her the moment she slipped her frock off I soon made +her understand that if she wanted me she must behave herself according +to my notions of behaviour. She got that fixed in her little head, but +even so she used to do her best to hoodwink me. She would slip out one +shoulder when she thought I wasn't looking, and before I knew where I +was half of her would be gleaming in the sun like satin. Directly I +noticed it I used to frown, and then she would pretend to be ashamed +of herself, hang her head, and wriggle her frock up to its place +again. However, I never could teach her to keep her skirts about her +knees. She was as innocent as a baby about that sort of thing. + +"I taught her some English words, and a sentence or two. That was +toward the end of her confinement to the kennel, about March. I used +to touch parts of her, or of myself, or Bran, and peg away at the +names of them. Mouth, eyes, ears, hands, chest, tail, back, front: she +learned all those and more. Eat, drink, laugh, cry, love, kiss, those +also. As for kissing (apart from the word) she proved herself to be an +expert. She kissed me, Florrie, Bran, Strap indifferently, one as soon +as another, and any rather than none, and all four for choice. + +"I learned some things myself, more than a thing or two. I don't mind +owning that one thing was to value my wife's steady and tried +affection far above the wild love of this unbalanced, unearthly little +creature, who seemed to be like nothing so much as a woman with the +conscience left out. The conscience, we believe, is the still small +voice of the Deity crying to us in the dark recesses of the body; +pointing out the path of duty; teaching respect for the opinion of the +world, for tradition, decency and order. It is thanks to conscience +that a man is true and a woman modest. Not that Thumbeline could be +called immodest, unless a baby can be so described, or an animal. But +could I be called 'true'? I greatly fear that I could not--in fact, I +know it too well. I meant no harm; I was greatly interested; and +there was always before me the real difficulty of making Mary +understand that something was in the kennel which she couldn't see. It +would have led to great complications, even if I had persuaded her of +the fact. No doubt she would have insisted on my getting rid of +Thumbeline--but how on earth could I have done that if Thumbeline had +not chosen to go? But for all that I know very well that I ought to +have told her, cost what it might. If I had done it I should have +spared myself lifelong regret, and should only have gone without a few +weeks of extraordinary interest which I now see clearly could not have +been good for me, as not being founded upon any revealed Christian +principle, and most certainly were not worth the price I had to pay +for them. + +"I learned one more curious fact which I must not forget. Nothing +would induce Thumbeline to touch or pass over anything made of +zinc.[6] I don't know the reason of it; but gardeners will tell you +that the way to keep a plant from slugs is to put a zinc collar round +it. It is due to that I was able to keep her in Bran's run without +difficulty. To have got out she would have had to pass zinc. The wire +was all galvanised. + +[Footnote 6: This is a curious thing, unsupported by any other +evidence known to me. I asked Despoina about it, but she would not, or +she did not, answer. She appeared not to understand what zinc was, and +I had none handy.] + +"She showed her dislike of it in numerous ways: one was her care to +avoid touching the sides or top of the enclosure when she was at her +gambols. At such times, when she was at her wildest, she was all over +the place, skipping high like a lamb, twisting like a leveret, +wheeling round and round in circles like a young dog, or skimming, +like a swallow on the wing, above ground. But she never made a +mistake; she turned in a moment or flung herself backward if there was +the least risk of contact. When Florrie used to converse with her from +outside, in that curious silent way the two had, it would always be +the child that put its hands through the wire, never Thumbeline. I +once tried to put her against the roof when I was playing with her. +She screamed like a shot hare and would not come out of the kennel all +day. There was no doubt at all about her feelings for zinc. All other +metals seemed indifferent to her. + +"With the advent of spring weather Thumbeline became not only more +beautiful, but wilder, and exceedingly restless. She now coaxed me to +let her out, and against my judgment I did it; she had to be carried +over the entry; for when I had set the gate wide open and pointed her +the way into the garden she squatted down in her usual attitude of +attention, with her legs crossed, and watched me, waiting. I wanted to +see how she would get through the hateful wire, so went away and hid +myself, leaving her alone with Bran. I saw her creep to the entry and +peer at the wire. What followed was curious. Bran came up wagging his +tail and stood close to her, his side against her head; he looked +down, inviting her to go out with him. Long looks passed between them, +and then Bran stooped his head, she put her arms around his neck, +twined her feet about his foreleg, and was carried out. Then she +became a mad thing, now bird, now moth; high and low, round and round, +flashing about the place for all the world like a humming-bird moth, +perfectly beautiful in her motions (whose ease always surprised me), +and equally so in her colouring of soft grey and dusky-rose flesh. +Bran grew a puppy again and whipped about after her in great circles +round the meadow. But though he was famous at coursing, and has killed +his hares single-handed, he was never once near Thumbeline. It was a +wonderful sight and made me late for business. + +"By degrees she got to be very bold, and taught me boldness too, and +(I am ashamed to say) greater degrees of deceit. She came freely into +the house and played with Florrie up and down stairs; she got on my +knee at meal-times, or evenings when my wife and I were together. Fine +tricks she played me, I must own. She spilled my tea for me, broke +cups and saucers, scattered my Patience cards, caught poor Mary's +knitting wool and rolled it about the room. The cunning little +creature knew that I dared not scold her or make any kind of fuss. She +used to beseech me for forgiveness occasionally when I looked very +glum, and would touch my cheek to make me look at her imploring eyes, +and keep me looking at her till I smiled. Then she would put her arms +round my neck and pull herself up to my level and kiss me, and then +nestle down in my arms and pretend to sleep. By-and-by, when my +attention was called off her, she would pinch me, or tweak my necktie, +and make me look again at her wicked eye peeping out from under my +arm. I had to kiss her again, of course, and at last she might go to +sleep in earnest. She seemed able to sleep at any hour or in any +place, just like an animal. + +"I had some difficulty in arranging for the night when once she had +made herself free of the house. She saw no reason whatever for our +being separated; but I circumvented her by nailing a strip of zinc all +round the door; and I put one round Florrie's too. I pretended to my +wife that it was to keep out draughts. Thumbeline was furious when she +found out how she had been tricked. I think she never quite forgave me +for it. Where she hid herself at night I am not sure. I think on the +sitting-room sofa; but on mild mornings I used to find her out-doors, +playing round Bran's kennel. + +"Strap, our fox-terrier, picked up some rat poison towards the end of +April and died in the night. Thumbeline's way of taking that was very +curious. It shocked me a good deal. She had never been so friendly +with him as with Bran, though certainly more at ease in his company +than in mine. The night before he died I remember that she and Bran +and he had been having high games in the meadow, which had ended by +their all lying down together in a heap, Thumbeline's head on Bran's +flank, and her legs between his. Her arm had been round Strap's neck +in a most loving way. They made quite a picture for a Royal +Academician; 'Tired of Play,' or 'The End of a Romp,' I can fancy he +would call it. Next morning I found poor old Strap stiff and staring, +and Thumbeline and Bran at their games just the same. She actually +jumped over him and all about him as if he had been a lump of earth or +a stone. Just some such thing he was to her; she did not seem able to +realise that there was the cold body of her friend. Bran just sniffed +him over and left him, but Thumbeline showed no consciousness that he +was there at all. I wondered, was this heartlessness or obliquity? But +I have never found the answer to my question.[7] + +[Footnote 7: I have observed this frequently for myself, and can +answer Beckwith's question for him. I would refer the reader in the +first place to my early experience of the boy (to call him so) with +the rabbit in the wood. There was an act of shocking cruelty, done +idly, almost unconsciously. I was not shocked at all, child as I was, +and quickly moved to pity and terror, because I knew that the creature +was not to be judged by our standards. From this and other things of +the sort which I have observed, and from this tale of Beckwith's, I +judge, that, to the fairy kind, directly life ceases to be lived at +the full, the object, be it fairy, or animal, or vegetable, is not +perceived by the other to exist. Thus, if a fairy should die, the +others would not know that its accidents were there; if a rabbit (as +in the case cited) should be caught it would therefore cease to be +rabbit. We ourselves have very much the same habit of regard toward +plant life. Our attitude to a tree or a growing plant ceases the +moment that plant is out of the ground. It is then, as we say, +_dead_--that is, it ceases to be a plant. So also we never scruple to +pluck the flowers, or the whole flower-scape from a plant, to put it +in our buttonhole or in the bosom of our friend, and thereafter to +cease our interest in the plant as such. It now becomes a memory, a +_gage d'amour_, a token or a sudden glory--what you will. This is the +habit of mankind; but I know of rare ones, both men and women, who +never allow dead flowers to be thrown into the draught, but always +give them decent burial, either cremation or earth to earth. I find +that admirable, yet don't condemn their neighbours, nor consider +fairies cruel who torture the living and disregard the maimed or the +dead.] + +"Now I come to the tragical part of my story, and wish with all my +heart that I could leave it out. But beyond the full confession I have +made to my wife, the County Police and the newspapers, I feel that I +should not shrink from any admission that may be called for of how +much I have been to blame. In May, on the 13th of May, Thumbeline, +Bran, and our only child, Florrie, disappeared. + +"It was a day, I remember well, of wonderful beauty. I had left them +all three together in the water meadow, little thinking of what was in +store for us before many hours. Thumbeline had been crowning Florrie +with a wreath of flowers. She had gathered cuckoo-pint and marsh +marigolds and woven them together, far more deftly than any of us +could have done, into a chaplet. I remember the curious winding, +wandering air she had been singing (without any words, as usual) over +her business, and how she touched each flower first with her lips, and +then brushed it lightly across her bosom before she wove it in. She +had kept her eyes on me as she did it, looking up from under her +brows, as if to see whether I knew what she was about. + +"I don't doubt now but that she was bewitching Florrie by this curious +performance, which every flower had to undergo separately; but, fool +that I was, I thought nothing of it at the time, and bicycled off to +Salisbury leaving them there. + +"At noon my poor wife came to me at the Bank distracted with anxiety +and fatigue. She had run most of the way, she gave me to understand. +Her news was that Florrie and Bran could not be found anywhere. She +said that she had gone to the gate of the meadow to call the child in, +and not seeing her, or getting any answer, she had gone down to the +river at the bottom. Here she had found a few picked wild flowers, but +no other traces. There were no footprints in the mud, either of child +or dog. Having spent the morning with some of the neighbours in a +fruitless search, she had now come to me. + +"My heart was like lead, and shame prevented me from telling her the +truth as I was sure it must be. But my own conviction of it clogged +all my efforts. Of what avail could it be to inform the police or +organise search-parties, knowing what I knew only too well? However, I +did put Gulliver in communication with the head-office in Sarum, and +everything possible was done. We explored a circuit of six miles about +Wishford; every fold of the hills, every spinney, every hedgerow was +thoroughly examined. But that first night of grief had broken down my +shame: I told my wife the whole truth in the presence of Reverend +Richard Walsh, the Congregational minister, and in spite of her +absolute incredulity, and, I may add, scorn, next morning I repeated +it to Chief Inspector Notcutt of Salisbury. Particulars got into the +local papers by the following Saturday; and next I had to face the +ordeal of the _Daily Chronicle_, _Daily News_, _Daily Graphic_, +_Star_, and other London journals. Most of these newspapers sent +representatives to lodge in the village, many of them with +photographic cameras. All this hateful notoriety I had brought upon +myself, and did my best to bear like the humble, contrite Christian +which I hope I may say I have become. We found no trace of our dear +one, and never have to this day. Bran, too, had completely vanished. I +have not cared to keep a dog since. + +"Whether my dear wife ever believed my account I cannot be sure. She +has never reproached me for wicked thoughtlessness, that's certain. +Mr. Walsh, our respected pastor, who has been so kind as to read this +paper, told me more than once that he could hardly doubt it. The +Salisbury police made no comments upon it one way or another. My +colleagues at the Bank, out of respect for my grief and sincere +repentance, treated me with a forbearance for which I can never be too +grateful. I need not add that every word of this is absolutely true. I +made notes of the most remarkable characteristics of the being I +called Thumbeline _at the time of remarking them_, and those notes are +still in my possession." + + * * * * * + +Here, with the exception of a few general reflections which are of +little value, Mr. Beckwith's paper ends. It was read, I ought to say, +by the Rev. Richard Walsh at the meeting of the South Wilts Folk-lore +Society and Field Club held at Amesbury in June 1892, and is to be +found in the published transactions of that body (Vol. IV. New Series, +pp. 305 _seq._). + + + + +THE FAIRY WIFE + + +There is nothing surprising in that story, to my mind, but the +reprobation with which Beckwith visits himself. What could he have +done that he did not? How could he have refrained from doing what he +did? Yet there are curious things about it, and one of those is the +partiality of the manifestation. The fairy was visible to him, his +child and his dogs but to no one else. So, in my own experience, had +she been whom I saw in K---- Park, whom Harkness, my companion, did +not see. My explanation of it does not carry me over all the +difficulties. I say, or will repeat if I have said it before, that the +fairy kind are really the spirit, essence, substance (what you will) +of certain sensible things, such as trees, flowers, wind, water, +hills, woods, marshes and the like, that their normal appearance to us +is that of these natural phenomena; but that in certain states of +mind, perhaps in certain conditions of body, there is a relation +established by which we are able to see them on our own terms, as it +were, or in our own idiom, and they also to treat with us to some +extent, to a large extent, on the same plane or standing-ground. That +there are limitations to this relationship is plain already; for +instance, Beckwith was not able to get his fairy prisoner to speak, +and I myself have never had speech with more than one in my life. But +as to that I shall have a very curious case to report shortly, where a +man taught his fairy-wife to speak. + +The mentioning of that undoubted marriage brings me to the question of +sex. There is, of course, not the slightest doubt about it. Mrs. +Ventris was a fairy wife. Mrs. Ventris was a puzzle to me for a good +many years--in fact until Despoina explained to me many things. For +Mrs. Ventris had a permanent human shape, and spoke as freely as you +or I. I thought at one time that she might be the offspring of a mixed +marriage, like Elsie Marks (whose mother, by the way, was another case +of the sort); but in fact Mrs. Ventris and Mrs. Marks were both fairy +wives, and the wood-girl, Mabilla King, whose case I am going to deal +with was another. But this particular relationship is one which my +explanation of fairy apparitions does not really cover: for marriage +implies a permanent accessibility (to put it so) of two normally +inaccessible natures; and parentage implies very much more. That, +indeed, implies what the Christians call Miracle; but it is quite +beyond dispute. I have a great number of cases ready to my hand, and +shall deal at large with all of them in the course of this essay, in +which fairies have had intercourse with mortals. It is by no means the +fact that the wife is always of the fairy-kind. My own experience at +C---- shall prove that. But I must content myself with mentioning the +well-known case of Mary Wellwood who was wife to a carpenter near +Ashby de la Zouche, and was twice taken by a fairy and twice +recovered. She had children in each of her states of being, and on one +recorded occasion her two families met. It appears to be a law that +the wife takes the nature of the husband, or as much of it as she can, +and it is important to remark that _in all cases_ the children are of +the husband's nature, fairy or mortal as he may happen to be. +"Nature," Despoina told me, "follows the male." So far as fairies are +concerned it seems certain that union with mortals runs in families or +clans, if one may so describe their curious relationships to each +other. There were five sisters of the wood in one of the Western +departments of France (Lot-et-Garonne, I think), who all married men: +two of them married two brothers. Apart they led the decorous lives of +the French middle class, but when they were together it was a sight to +see! A curious one, and to us, with our strong associations of ideas, +that tremendous hand which memory has upon our heart-strings, a +poignant one. For they had lost their powers, but not their impulses. +It was a case of _si vieillesse pouvait_. I suppose they may have +appeared to some chance wayfarer, getting a glimpse of them at their +gambols between the poplar stems of the road, or in the vistas of the +hazel-brakes, as a company of sprightly matrons on a frolic. To the +Greeks foolishness! And be sure that such an observer would shrug them +out of mind. My own impression is that these ladies were perfectly +happy, that they had nothing of that _maggior' dolore_ which we +mortals know, and for which our joys have so often to pay. Let us hope +so at any rate, for about a fairy or a growing boy conscious of the +prison-shades could Poe have spun his horrors. + +"To the Greeks foolishness," I said in my haste; but in very truth it +was far from being so. To the Greeks there was nothing extraordinary +in the parentage of a river or the love of a God for a mortal. Nor +should there be to a Christian who accepts the orthodox account of the +foundation of his faith. So far as we know, the generative process of +every created thing is the same; it is, therefore, an allowable +inference that the same process obtains with the created things which +are not sensible to ourselves. If flowers mate and beget as we do, why +not winds and waters, why not gods and nymphs, fauns and fairies? It +is the creative urgency that imports more than the creative matter. To +my mind, _magna componere parvis_, it is my fixed belief that all +created nature known to us is the issue of the mighty love of God for +his first-made creature the Earth. I accept the Greek mythology as the +nearest account of the truth we are likely to get. I have never had +the least difficulty in accepting it; and all I have since found out +of the relations of men with their fellow-creatures of other genera +confirms me in the belief that the urgency is the paramount necessity. + +If I am to deal with a case of a mixed marriage, where the wife was a +fairy, the spirit of a tree, I shall ask leave to set down first a +plain proposition, which is that all Natural Facts (as wind, hills, +lakes, trees, animals, rain, rivers, flowers) have an underlying Idea +or Soul whereby they really are what they appear, to which they owe +the beauty, majesty, pity, terror, love, which they excite in us; and +that this Idea, or Soul, having a real existence of its own in +community with its companions of the same nature, can be discerned by +mortal men in forms which best explain to human intelligence the +passions which they excite in human breasts. This is how I explain the +fact, for instance, that the austerity of a lonely rock at sea will +take the form and semblance, and much more than that, assume the +prerogatives of a brooding man, or that the swift freedom of a river +will pass by, as in a flash, in the coursing limbs of a youth, or that +at dusk, out of a reed-encircled mountain-tarn, silvery under the hush +of the grey hour, there will rise, and gleam, and sink again, the pale +face, the shoulders and breast of the Spirit of the Pool; that, +finally, the grace of a tree, and its panic of fury when lashed by +storm, very capable in either case of inspiring love or horror, will +be revealed rarely in the form of a nymph. There may be a more +rational explanation of these curious things, but I don't know of one: + + _Fortunatus et ille, Deos qui novit agrestes!_ + +Happy may one be in the fairies of our own country. Happy, even yet, +are they who can find the Oreads of the hill, Dryads of the wood, +nymphs of river, marsh, plough-land, pasture, and heath. Now, leaving +to Greece the things that are Greek, here for an apologue follows a +plain recital of facts within the knowledge of every man of the +Cheviots. + + +I + +There is in that country, not far from Otterburn--between Otterburn +and the Scottish border--a remote hamlet consisting of a few white +cottages, farm buildings and a shingle-spired church. It is called +Dryhope, and lies in a close valley, which is watered by a beck or +burn, known as the Dryhope Burn. It is deeply buried in the hills. +Spurs of the Cheviots as these are, they rise to a considerable +elevation, but are pasturable nearly to the top. There, however, where +the heather begins, peat-hags and morasses make dangerous provision, +from which the flocks are carefully guarded. It is the practice of the +country for the shepherds to be within touch of them all night, lest +some, feeding upward (as sheep always do) should reach the summits and +be lost or mired inextricably. These upland stretches, consequently, +are among the most desolate spots to be found in our islands. I have +walked over them myself within recent years and met not a human soul, +nor beast of man's taming. Ravens, curlews, peewits, a lagging fox or +limping hare; such, with the unsensed Spirits of the Earth, will be +your company. In particular I traversed (in 1902) the great upland +called Limmer Fell, and saw the tarn--Silent Water--and the trees +called The Seven Sisters. They are silver birches of remarkable size +and beauty. One of them is fallen. Standing there, looking north-west, +the Knapp may be seen easily, some five miles away; and the extent of +the forest with which it is covered can be estimated. A great and +solemn wood that is, which no borderer will ever enter if he can help +it. + +There was--and may be still--a family of shepherds living in Dryhope +of the name of King. When these things occurred there were alive +George King, a patriarch of seventy-five years, Miranda King, his +daughter-in-law, widow of his son, who was supposed to be a +middle-aged woman, and a young man, Andrew King, her only son. That +was the family; and there was a girl, Bessie Prawle, daughter of a +neighbour, very much in and out of the house, and held by common +report to be betrothed to Andrew. She used to help the widow in +domestic matters, see to the poultry, milk the cow, churn the butter, +press the cheeses. The Kings were independent people, like the +dalesmen of Cumberland, and stood, as the saying is, upon their own +foot-soles. Old King had a tenant-right upon the fell, and owed no man +anything. + +There was said to be a mystery connected with Miranda the widow, who +was a broad-browed, deep-breasted, handsome woman, very dark and +silent. She was not a native of Redesdale, not known to be of +Northumberland. Her husband, who had been a sailor, had brought her +back with him one day, saying that she was his wife and her name +Miranda. He had said no more about her, would say no more, and had +been drowned at sea before his son was born. She, for her part, had +been as uncommunicative as he. Such reticence breeds wonderment in the +minds of such a people as they of Dryhope, and out of wonderment arise +wonders. It was told that until Miranda King was brought in sea-birds +had never been seen in Dryhopedale. It was said that they came on that +very night when George King the younger came home, and she with him, +carrying his bundle and her own. It was said that they had never since +left the hamlet, and that when Miranda went out of doors, which was +seldom, she was followed by clouds of them whichever way she turned. I +have no means of testing the truth of these rumours, but, however it +may be, no scandal was ever brought against her. She was respectable +and respected. Old King, the grandfather, relied strongly upon her +judgment. She brought up her son in decent living and the fear of God. + +In the year when Andrew was nineteen he was a tall, handsome lad, and +a shepherd, following the profession, as he was to inherit the estate, +of his forebears. One April night in that year he and his grandfather, +the pair of them with a collie, lay out on the fell-side together. +Lambing is late in Redesdale, the spring comes late; April is often a +month of snow. + +They had a fire and their cloaks; the ground was dry, and they lay +upon it under a clear sky strewn with stars. At midnight George King, +the grandfather, was asleep, but Andrew was broad awake. He heard the +flock (which he could not see) sweep by him like a storm, the +bell-wether leading, and as they went up the hill the wind began to +blow, a long, steady, following blast. The collie on his feet, ears +set flat on his head, shuddering with excitement, whined for orders. +Andrew, after waking with difficulty his grandfather, was told to go +up and head them off. He sent the dog one way--off in a flash, he +never returned that night--and himself went another. He was not seen +again for two days. To be exact, he set out at midnight on Thursday +the 12th April, and did not return to Dryhope until eleven o'clock of +the morning of Saturday the 14th. The sheep, I may say here, came back +by themselves on the 13th, the intervening day. + +That night of the 12th April is still commemorated in Dryhope as one +of unexampled spring storm, just as a certain October night of the +next year stands yet as the standard of comparison for all equinoctial +gales. The April storm, we hear, was very short and had several +peculiar features. It arose out of a clear sky, blew up a snow-cloud +which did no more than powder the hills, and then continued to blow +furiously out of a clear sky. It was steady but inconceivably strong +while it lasted; the force and pressure of the wind did not vary until +just the end. It came from the south-east, which is the rainy quarter +in Northumberland, but without rain. It blew hard from midnight, until +three o'clock in the morning, and then, for half an hour, a hurricane. +The valley and hamlet escaped as by a miracle. Mr. Robson, the vicar, +awakened by it, heard the wind like thunder overhead and went out of +doors to observe it. He went out into a still, mild air coming from +the north-west, and still heard it roaring like a mad thing high above +him. Its direction, as he judged by sound, was the precise contrary of +the ground current. In the morning, wreckage of all kinds, branches of +trees, roots, and whole clumps of heather strewn about the village and +meadows, while showing that a furious battle had been fought out on +the fells, confirmed this suspicion. A limb of a tree, draped in ivy, +was recognised as part of an old favourite of his walks. The ash from +which it had been torn stood to the south-east of the village. In the +course of the day (the 13th) news was brought in that one of the Seven +Sisters was fallen, and that a clean drive could be seen through the +forest on the top of Knapp. Coupled with these dreadful testimonies +you have the disappearance of Andrew King to help you form your +vision of a village in consternation. + +Hear now what befell young Andrew King when he swiftly climbed the +fell, driven forward by the storm. The facts are that he was agog for +adventure, since, all unknown to any but himself, he had ventured to +the summits before, had stood by Silent Water, touched the Seven +Sisters one by one, and had even entered the dreadful, haunted, forest +of Knapp. He had had a fright, had been smitten by that sudden gripe +of fear which palsies limbs and freezes blood, which the ancients +called the Stroke of Pan, and we still call Panic after them. He had +never forgotten what he had seen, though he had lost the edge of the +fear he had. He was older now by some two years, and only waiting the +opportunity for renewed experience. He hoped to have it--and he had +it. + +The streaming gale drove him forward as a ship at sea. He ran lightly, +without fatigue or troubled breath. Dimly above him he presently saw +the seven trees, dipping and louting to the weather; but as he neared +them they had no meaning for him, did not, indeed, exist. For now he +saw more than they, and otherwise than men see trees. + + +II + +In a mild and steady light, which came from no illumination of moon or +stars, but seemed to be interfused with the air, in the strong warm +wind which wrapped the fell-top; upon a sward of bent-grass which ran +toward the tarn and ended in swept reeds he saw six young women +dancing in a ring. Not to any music that he could hear did they move, +nor was the rhythm of their movement either ordered or wild. It was +not formal dancing, and it was not at all a Bacchic rout: rather they +flitted hither and thither on the turf, now touching hands, now +straining heads to one another, crossing, meeting, parting, winding +about and about with the purposeless and untirable frivolity of moths. +They seemed neither happy nor unhappy, they made no sound; it looked +to the lad as if they had been so drifting from the beginning, and +would so drift to the end of things temporal. Their loose hair +streamed out in the wind, their light gossamer gowns streamed the same +way, whipped about their limbs as close as wet muslin. They were +bare-footed, bare-armed, and bare-headed. They all had beauty, but it +was not of earthly cast. He saw one with hair like pale silk, and one, +ruddy and fierce in the face, with snaky black hair which, he thought, +flew out beyond her for a full yard's measure. Another had +hazel-brown hair and a sharp little peering face; another's was colour +of ripe corn, and another's like a thunder-cloud, copper-tinged. About +and about they went, skimming the tops of the grasses, and Andrew +King, his heart hammering at his ribs, watched them at their play. So +by chance one saw him, and screamed shrilly, and pointed at him. + +Then they came about him like a swarm of bees, angry at first, humming +a note like that of the telegraph wire on a mountain road, but, as he +stood his ground, curiosity prevailed among them and they pried +closely at him. They touched him, felt his arms, his knees, handled +his clothing, peered into his eyes. All this he endured, though he was +in a horrible fright. Then one, the black-haired girl with a bold, +proud face, came and stood closely before him and looked him full into +his eyes. He gave her look for look. She put a hand on each shoulder +and kissed him. After that there was a tussle among them, for each +must do what her sister had done. They took a kiss apiece, or maybe +more; then, circling round him, they swept him forward on the wind, +past Silent Water, over the Edge, out on the fells, on and on and on, +and never stopped till they reached Knapp Forest, that dreadful place. + +There in the hushed aisles and glades they played with this new-found +creature, played with him, fought for him, and would have loved him if +he had been minded for such adventuring. Two in particular he marked +as desiring his closer company--the black-haired and bold was one, and +the other was the sharp-faced and slim with eyes of a mouse and +hazel-brown hair. He called her the laughing girl and thought her the +kindest of them all. But they were all his friends at this time. +Andrew King, like young Tamlane, might have sojourned with them for +ever and a day, but for one thing. He saw by chance a seventh +maiden--a white-faced, woe-begone, horror-struck Seventh Sister, +blenched and frozen under a great beech. She may have been there +throughout his commerce with the rest, or she may have been revealed +to him in a flash then and there. So as it was he saw her suddenly, +and thereafter saw no other at all. She held his eyes waking; he left +his playmates and went to her where she crouched. He stooped and took +her hand. It was as cold as a dead girl's and very heavy. Amid the +screaming of the others, undeterred by their whirling and battling, he +lifted up the frozen one. He lifted her bodily and carried her in his +arms. They swept all about him like infuriated birds. The sound of +their rage was like that of gulls about a fish in the tide-way; but +they laid no hands on him, and said nothing that he could understand, +and by this time his awe was gone, and his heart was on fire. Holding +fast to what he had and wanted, he pushed out of Knapp Forest and took +the lee-side of the Edge on his way to Dryhope. This must have been +about the time of the gale at its worst. The Seventh Sister by Silent +Water may have fallen at this time; for had not Andrew King the +Seventh Sister in his arms? + +Anxiety as to the fate of Andrew King was spread over the village and +the greatest sympathy felt for the bereaved family. To have lost a +flock of sheep, a dog, and an only child at one blow is a terrible +misfortune. Old King, I am told, was prostrated, and the girl, Bessie +Prawle, violent in her lamentations over her "lad." The only person +unmoved was the youth's mother, Miranda King the widow. She, it seems, +had no doubts of his safety, and declared that he "would come in his +time, like his father before him"--a saying which, instead of +comforting the mourners, appears to have exasperated them. Probably +they did not at all understand it. Such consolations as Mr. Robson the +minister had to offer she received respectfully, but without comment. +All she had to say was that she could trust her son; and when he urged +that she had better by far trust in God, her reply, finally and +shortly, was that God was bound by His own laws and had not given us +heads and hearts for nothing. I am free to admit that her theology +upon this point seems to me remarkably sound. + +In the course of the 13th, anxious day as it promised to be, old +George King, returning from a fruitless quest over the fells, came +upon his sheep within a few hundred yards of his own house, collected +together in a flock and under the watch of his dog. They were, in +fact, as nearly as possible where he had understood them to be before +their stampede of the previous night. He was greatly heartened by the +discovery, though unable to account for the facts of it. The dog was +excessively tired, and ate greedily. Next morning, when the family and +some neighbours were standing together on the fell-side looking up the +valley where the Dryhope burn comes down from the hills, they saw two +figures on the rough road which follows it. Mrs. King, the widow, I +believe, had seen them first, but she had said nothing. It was Bessie +Prawle who raised the first cry that "Andrew was coming, and his wife +with him." All looked in the direction she showed them and recognised +the young man. Behind him walked the figure of a woman. This is the +accustomed manner of a man and wife to walk in that country. It is +almost a proof of their relationship. Being satisfied of the identity +of their child the whole party returned to the homestead to await him +and what he was bringing with him. Speculation was rife and volubly +expressed, especially by Bessie Prawle. Miranda King, however, was +silent; but it was noticed that she kept her eyes fixed upon the woman +behind her son, and that her lips moved as if she was muttering to +herself. + +The facts were as the expectations. Andrew King brought forward a +young, timid and unknown girl as his wife. By that name he led her up +to his grandfather, then to his mother; as such he explained her to +his neighbours, including (though not by name) Bessie Prawle, who had +undoubtedly hoped to occupy that position herself. + +Old King, overcome with joy at seeing his boy alive and well, and +dazed, probably, by events, put his hands upon the girl's head and +blessed her after the patriarchal fashion there persisting. He seems +to have taken canonical marriage for granted, though nobody else did, +and though a moment's reflection, had he been capable of so much, +would have shown him that that could not be. The neighbours were too +well disposed to the family to raise any doubts or objections; Bessie +Prawle was sullen and quiet; only Miranda King seems to have been +equal to the occasion. She, as if in complete possession of facts +which satisfied every question, received the girl as an equal. She did +not kiss her or touch her, but looked deeply into her eyes for a long +space of time, and took from her again an equally searching regard; +then, turning to her father-in-law and the company at large, she said, +"This is begun, and will be done. He is like his father before him." +To that oracular utterance old King, catching probably but the last +sentence, replied, "And he couldn't do better, my child." He meant no +more than a testimony to his daughter-in-law. Mrs. King's +observations, coupled with that, nevertheless, went far to give credit +to the alleged marriage. + +The girl, so far, had said nothing whatever, though she had been +addressed with more than one rough but kindly compliment on her youth +and good looks. And now Andrew King explained that she was dumb. +Consternation took the strange form of jocular approval of his +discretion in selecting a wife who could never nag him--but it was +consternation none the less. The mystery was felt to be deeper; there +was nothing for it now but to call in the aid of the parish +priest--"the minister," as they called him--and this was done. By the +time he had arrived, Miranda King had taken the girl into the cottage, +and the young husband and his grandfather had got the neighbours to +disperse. Bessie Prawle, breathing threatenings and slaughter, had +withdrawn herself. + +Mr. Robson, a quiet sensible man of nearer sixty than fifty years, +sat in the cottage, hearing all that his parishioners could tell him +and using his eyes. He saw the centre-piece of all surmise, a +shrinking, pale slip of a girl, by the look of her not more than +fifteen or sixteen years old. She was not emaciated by any means, +seemed to be well nourished, and was quite as vigorous as any child of +that age who could have been pitted against her. Her surroundings +cowed her, he judged. To Dryhope she was a stranger, a foreigner; to +her Dryhope and the Dryhopedale folk were perilous matter. Her general +appearance was that of a child who had never had anything but +ill-usage; she flinched at every sudden movement, and followed one +about with her great unintelligent eyes, as if she was trying to +comprehend what they showed her. Her features were regular and +delicate; her brows broad and eyebrows finely arched, her chin full, +her neck slim, her hands and feet narrow and full of what fanciers +call "breed." Her hair was very long and fine, dark brown with gleams +of gold; her eyes were large, grey in colour, but, as I have said, +unintelligent, like an animal's, which to us always seem +unintelligent. I should have mentioned, for Mr. Robson noticed it at +once, that her hair was unconfined, and that, so far as he could make +out, she wore but a single garment--a sleeveless frock, confined at +the waist and reaching to her knees. It was of the colour of +unbleached flax and of a coarse web. Her form showed through, and the +faint flush of her skin. She was a finely made girl. Her legs and feet +were bare. Immodest as such an appearance would have been in one of +the village maids, he did not feel it to be so with her. Her look was +so entirely foreign to his experience that there was no standard of +comparison. Everything about her seemed to him to be quite what one +would have expected, until one came, so to speak, in touch with her +soul. That, if it lay behind her inscrutable, sightless and dumb eyes, +betrayed her. There was no hint of it. Human in form, visibly and +tangibly human, no soul sat in her great eyes that a man could +discern. That, however, is not now the point. Rather it is that, to +all appearance a modest and beautiful girl, she was remarkably +undressed. It was inconceivable that a modest and beautiful girl could +so present herself, and yet a modest and beautiful girl she was. + +Mr. Robson put it to himself this way. There are birds--for instance, +jays, kingfishers, goldfinches--which are, taken absolutely, extremely +brilliant in colouring. Yet they do not jar, are not obtrusive. So it +was with her. Her dress was, perhaps, taken absolutely, indecorous. +Upon her it looked at once seemly and beautiful. Upon Bessie Prawle it +would have been glaring; but one had to dissect it before one could +discover any fault with it upon its wearer. She was very pale, even to +the lips, which were full and parted, as if she must breathe through +her mouth. He noticed immediately the shortness of her breath. It was +very distressing, and after a little while induced the same thing in +himself. And not in him only, but I can fancy that the whole group of +them sitting round her where she was crouched against Miranda King's +knees, were panting away like steam-engines before they had done with +her. While Mr. Robson was there Miranda never took her arm off her +shoulder for a moment; but the girl's eyes were always fixed upon +Andrew, who called himself her husband, unless her apprehensions were +directly called elsewhere. In that case she would look in the required +direction for the fraction of a second, terrified and ready, as you +may say, to die at a movement, and then, her fears at rest, back to +her husband's face. + +Mr. Robson's first business was to examine Andrew King, a perfectly +honest, well-behaved lad, whom he had known from his cradle. He was +candid--up to a point. He had found her on the top of Knapp Fell, he +said; she had been with others, who ill-treated her. What others? +Others of her sort. Fairies, he said, who lived up there. He pressed +him about this. Fairies? Did he really believe in such beings? Like +all country people he spoke about these things with the utmost +difficulty, and when confronted by worldly wisdom, became dogged. He +said how could he help it when here was one? Mr. Robson told him that +he was begging the question, but he looked very blank. To the surprise +of the minister, old King--old George King, the grandfather--had no +objections to make to the suggestion of fairies on Knapp Fell. He +could not say, there was no telling; Knapp was a known place; strange +things were recorded of the forest. Miranda, his daughter-in-law, was +always a self-contained woman, with an air about her of being +forewarned. He instanced her, and the minister asked her several +questions. Being pressed, she finally said, "Sir, my son is as likely +right as wrong. We must all make up our own minds." There that matter +had to be left. + +Andrew said that he had followed the fairies from the tarn on Lammer +Fell into Knapp Forest. They had run away from him, taking this girl +of his, as he supposed, with them. He had followed them because he +meant to have her. They knew that, so had run. Why did he want her? He +said that he had seen her before. When? Oh, long ago--when he had been +up there alone. He had seen her face among the trees for a moment. +They had been hurting her; she looked at him, she was frightened, but +couldn't cry out--only look and ask. He had never forgotten her; her +looks had called him often, and he had kept his eyes wide open. Now, +when he had found her again, he determined to have her. And at last, +he said, he had got her. He had had to fight for her, for they had +been about him like hell-cats and had jumped at him as if they would +tear him to pieces, and screamed and hissed like cats. But when he had +got her in his arms they had all screamed together, once--like a +howling wind--and had flown away. + +What next? Here he became obstinate, as if foreseeing what was to be. +What next? He had married her. Married her! How could he marry a fairy +on the top of Knapp Fell? Was there a church there, by chance? Had a +licence been handy? "Let me see her lines, Andrew," Mr. Robson had +said somewhat sternly in conclusion. His answer had been to lift up +her left hand and show the thin third finger. It carried a ring, made +of plaited rush. "I put that on her," he said, "and said all the words +over her out of the book." "And you think you have married her, +Andrew?" It was put to him _ex cathedr_. He grew very red and was +silent; presently he said, "Well, sir, I do think so. But she's not my +wife yet, if that's what you mean." The good gentleman felt very much +relieved. It was satisfactory to him that he could still trust his +worthy young parishioner. + +Entirely under the influence of Miranda King, he found the family +unanimous for a real wedding. To that there were two objections to +make. He could not put up the banns of a person without a name, and +would not marry a person unbaptised. Now, to baptise an adult +something more than sponsors are requisite; there must be voluntary +assent to the doctrines of religion by the postulant. In this case, +how to be obtained? He saw no way, since it was by no means plain to +him that the girl could understand a word that was said. He left the +family to talk it over among themselves, saying, as he went out of the +door, that his confidence in their principles was so strong that he +was sure they would sanction no step which would lead the two young +people away from the church door. + +In the morning Miranda King came to him with a report that matters had +been arranged and only needed his sanction. "I can trust my son, and +see him take her with a good conscience," she told him. "She's not one +of his people, but she's one of mine; and what I have done she can do, +and is willing to do." + +The clergyman was puzzled. "What do you mean by that, Mrs. King?" he +asked her. "What are _your people_? How do they differ from mine, or +your husband's?" + +She hesitated. "Well, sir, in this way. She hasn't got your tongue, +nor my son's tongue." + +"She has none at all," said the minister; but Miranda replied, "She +can talk without her tongue." + +"Yes, my dear," he said, "but I cannot." + +"But I can," was her answer; "she can talk to me--and will talk to +you; but not yet. She's dumb for a season, she's struck so. My son +will give her back her tongue--by-and-by." + +He was much interested. He asked Miranda to tell him who had struck +her dumb. For a long time she would not answer. "We don't name +him--it's not lawful. He that has the power--the Master--I can go no +nearer." He urged her to openness, got her at last to mention "The +King of the Wood." The King of the Wood! There she stuck, and nothing +he could say could move her from that name, The King of the Wood. + +He left it so, knowing his people, and having other things to ask +about. What tongue or speech had the respectable, the staid Miranda +King in common with the scared waif? To that she answered that she +could not tell him; but that it was certain they could understand each +other. How? "By looks," she said, and added scornfully, "she's not +the kind that has to clatter with her tongue to have speech with her +kindred." + +Miranda, then, was a kinswoman! He showed his incredulity, and the +woman flushed. "See here, Mr. Robson," she said, "I am of the sea, and +she of the fell, but we are the same nation. We are not of yours, but +you can make us so. Directly I saw her I knew what she was; and so did +she know me. How? By the eyes and understanding. I felt who she was. +As she is now so was I once. As I am now so will she be. I'll answer +for her; I'm here to do it. When once I'd followed my man I never +looked back; no more will she. The woman obeys the man--that's the +law. If a girl of your people was taken with a man of mine she'd lose +her speech and forsake her home and ways. That's the law all the world +over. God Almighty's self, if He were a woman, would do the same. He +couldn't help it. The law is His; but He made it so sure that not +Himself could break it." + +"What law do you mean?" she was asked. She said, "The law of life. The +woman follows the man." + +This proposition he was not prepared to deny, and the end of it was +that Mr. Robson baptised the girl, taking Miranda for godmother. +Mabilla they called her by her sponsor's desire, "Mabilla +By-the-Wood," and as such she was published and married. You may be +disposed to blame him for lightness of conscience, but I take leave to +tell you that he had had the cure of souls in Dryhope for +five-and-thirty years. He claimed on that score to know his people. +The more he knew of them, the less he was able to question the lore of +such an one as Miranda King. And he might remind you that Mabilla King +is alive to this hour, a wife and mother of children. That is a fact, +and it is also a fact, as I am about to tell you, that she had a hard +fight to win such peace. + +Married, made a woman, she lost her haunted look and gained some +colour in her cheeks. She lost her mortal chill. Her clothing, the +putting up of her hair made some difference, but loving entreaty all +the difference in the world. To a casual glance there was nothing but +refinement to distinguish her from her neighbours, to a closer one +there was more than that. Her eyes, they said, had the far, intent, +rapt gaze of a wild animal. They seemed to search minutely, reaching +beyond our power of vision, to find there things beyond our human ken. +But whereas the things which she looked at, invisible to us, caused +her no dismay, those within our range, the most ordinary and +commonplace, filled her with alarm. Her eyes, you may say, communed +with the unseen, and her soul followed their direction and dwelt +remote from her body. She was easily startled, not only by what she +saw but by what she heard. Nobody was ever more sensitive to sound. +They say that a piano-tuner goes not by sound, but by the vibrations +of the wire, which he is able to test without counting. It was so with +her. She seemed to feel the trembling of the circumambient air, and to +know by its greater or less intensity that something--and very often +what thing in particular--was affecting it. All her senses were +preternaturally acute--she could see incredible distances, hear, +smell, in a way that only wild nature can. Added to these, she had +another sense, whereby she could see what was hidden from us and +understand what we could not even perceive. One could guess as much, +on occasions, by the absorbed intensity of her gaze. But when she was +with her husband (which was whenever he would allow it) she had no +eyes, ears, senses or thoughts for any other living thing, seen or +unseen. She followed him about like a dog, and when that might not be +her eyes followed him. Sometimes, when he was afield with his sheep, +they saw her come out of the cottage and slink up the hedgerow to the +fell's foot. She would climb the brae, search him out, and then crouch +down and sit watching him, never taking her eyes off him. When he was +at home her favourite place was at his feet. She would sit huddled +there for hours, and his hand would fall upon her hair or rest on her +shoulder; and you could see the pleasure thrilling her, raying out +from her--just as you can see, as well as hear, a cat purring by the +fire. He used to whisper in her ear as if she was a child: like a +child she used to listen and wonder. Whether she understood him or no +it was sometimes the only way of soothing her. Her trembling stopped +at the sound of his voice, and her eyes left off staring and showed +the glow of peace. For whole long evenings they sat close together, +his hand upon her hair and his low voice murmuring in her ear. + +This much the neighbours report and the clergyman confirms, as also +that all went well with the young couple for the better part of two +years. The girl grew swiftly towards womanhood, became sleek and +well-liking; had a glow and a promise of ripeness which bid fair to be +redeemed. A few omens, however, remained, disquieting when those who +loved her thought of them. One was that she got no human speech, +though she understood everything that was said to her; another that +she showed no signs of motherhood; a third that Bessie Prawle could +not abide her. She alone of all the little community avoided the King +household, and scowled whensoever she happened to cross the path of +this gentle outland girl. Jealousy was presumed the cause; but I +think there was more in it than that. I think that Bessie Prawle +believed her to be a witch. + + +III + +To eyes prepared for coming disaster things small in themselves loom +out of a clear sky portentous. Such eyes had not young Andrew King the +bride-groom, a youth made man by love, secure in his treasure and +confident in his power of keeping what his confidence had won. Such +eyes may or may not have had Mabilla, though hers seemed to be centred +in her husband, where he was or where he might be. George King was old +and looked on nothing but his sheep, or the weather as it might affect +his sheep. Miranda King, the self-contained, stoic woman, had schooled +her eyes to see her common duties. Whatever else she may have seen she +kept within the door of her shut lips. She may have known what was +coming, she must have known that whatever came had to come. Bessie +Prawle, however, with hatred, bitter fear and jealousy to sharpen her, +saw much. + +Bessie Prawle was a handsome, red-haired girl, deep in the breast, +full-eyed and of great colour. Her strength was remarkable. She could +lift a heifer into a cart, and had once, being dared to it, carried +Andrew King up the brae in her arms. The young man, she supposed, +owed her a grudge for that; she believed herself unforgiven, and saw +in this sudden marriage of his a long-meditated act of revenge. By +that in her eyes (and as she thought, in the eyes of all Dryhope) he +had ill-requited her, put her to unthinkable shame. She saw herself +with her favours of person and power passed over for a nameless, +haunted, dumb thing, a stray from some other world into a world of +men, women, and the children they rear to follow them. She scorned +Mabilla for flinching so much, she scorned her for not flinching more. +That Mabilla could be desirable to Andrew King made her scoff; that +Andrew King should not know her dangerous kept her awake at night. + +For the world seemed to her a fearful place since Mabilla had been +brought into it. There were signs everywhere. That summer it thundered +out of a clear sky. Once in the early morning she had seen a bright +light above the sun--a mock sun which shone more fiercely than a fire +in daylight. She heard wild voices singing; on still days she saw the +trees in Knapp Forest bent to a furious wind. When Mabilla crept up +the fell on noiseless feet to spy for Andrew King, Bessie Prawle heard +the bents hiss and crackle under her, as if she set them afire. + +Next summer, too, there were portents. There was a great drought, so +great that Dryhope burn ran dry, and water had to be fetched from a +distance for the sheep. There were heather fires in many places; smut +got into the oats, and a plague of caterpillars attacked the trees so +that in July they were leafless, and there was no shade. There was no +pasture for the kine, which grew lean and languid. Their bones stuck +out through their skin; they moaned as they lay on the parched earth, +and had not strength enough to swish at the clouds of flies. They had +sores upon them, which festered and spread. If Mabilla, the nameless +wife, was not responsible for this, who could be? Perhaps Heaven was +offended with Dryhope on account of Andrew King's impiety. Bessie +believed that Mabilla was a witch. + +She followed the girl about, spying on everything she did. Once, at +least, she came upon her lying in the heather. She was plaiting rushes +together into a belt, and Bessie thought she was weaving a spell and +sprang upon her. The girl cowered, very white, and Bessie Prawle, her +heart on fire, gave tongue to all her bitter thoughts. The witch-wife, +fairy-wife, child or whatever she was seemed to wither as a flower in +a hot wind. Bessie Prawle towered above her in her strength, and +gained invective with every fierce breath she took. Her blue eyes +burned, her bosom heaved like the sea; her arm bared to the shoulder +could have struck a man down. Yet in the midst of her frenzied speech, +in full flow, she faltered. Her fists unclenched themselves, her arm +dropped nerveless, her eyes sought the ground. Andrew King, pale with +rage, sterner than she had ever seen him, stood before her. + +He looked at her with deadly calm. + +"Be out of this," he said; "you degrade yourself. Never let me see you +again." Before she had shrunk away he had stooped to the huddled +creature at his feet, had covered her with his arms and was whispering +urgent comfort in her ear, caressing her with voice and hands. Bessie +Prawle could not show herself to the neighbours for the rest of the +summer and early autumn. She became a solitary; the neighbours said +that she was in a decline. + +The drought, with all the troubles it entailed of plague, pestilence +and famine, continued through August and September. It did not really +break till All-Hallow's, and then, indeed, it did. + +The day had been overcast, with a sky of a coppery tinge, and +intensely dry heat; a chance puff of wind smote one in the face, hot +as the breath of a man in fever. The sheep panted on the ground, their +dry tongues far out of their mouths; the beasts lay as if dead, and +flies settled upon them in clouds. All the land was of one glaring +brown, where the bents were dry straw, and the heather first burnt +and then bleached pallid by the sun. The distance was blurred in a +reddish lurid haze; Knapp Fell and its forest were hidden. + +Mabilla, the dumb girl, had been restless all day, following Andrew +about like a shadow. The heat had made him irritable; more than once +he had told her to go home and she had obeyed him for the time, but +had always come back. Her looks roamed wide; she seemed always +listening; sometimes it was clear that she heard something--for she +panted and moved her lips. There was deep trouble in her eyes too; she +seemed full of fear. At almost any other time her husband would have +noticed it and comforted her. But his nerves, fretted by the long +scorching summer, were on this day of fire stretched to the cracking +point. He saw nothing, and felt nothing, but his own discomfort. + +Out on the parched fell-side Bessie Prawle sat like a bird of omen and +gloomed at the wrath to come. + +Toward dusk a wind came moaning down the valley, raising little spires +of dust. It came now down, now up. Sometimes two currents met each +other and made momentary riot. But farm-work has to get itself done +through fair or foul. It grew dark, the sheep were folded and fed, the +cattle were got in, and the family sat together in the kitchen, +silent, preoccupied, the men oppressed and anxious over they knew not +what. As for those two aliens, Miranda King and Mabilla By-the-Wood, +whatever they knew, one of them made no sign at all, and the other, +though she was white, though she shivered and peered about, had no +means of voicing her thought. + +They had their tea and settled to their evening tasks. The old +shepherd dozed over his pipe, Miranda knitted fast, Mabilla stared out +of the window into the dark, twisting her hands, and Andrew, with one +of his hands upon her shoulder, patted her gently, as if to soothe +her. She gave him a grateful look more than once, but did not cease to +shiver. Nobody spoke, and suddenly in the silence Mabilla gasped and +began to tremble. Then the dog growled under the table. All looked up +and about them. + +A scattering, pattering sound lashed at the window. Andrew then +started up. "Rain!" he said; "that's what we're waiting for," and made +to go to the door. Miranda his mother, and Mabilla his young wife, +caught him by the frock and held him back. The dog, staring into the +window-pane, bristling and glaring, continued to growl. They waited in +silence, but with beating hearts. + +A loud knock sounded suddenly on the door--a dull, heavy blow, as if +one had pounded it with a tree-stump. The dog burst into a panic of +barking, flew to the door and sniffed at the threshold. He whined and +scratched frantically with his forepaws. The wind began to blow, +coming quite suddenly down, solid upon the wall of the house, shaking +it upon its foundations. George King was now upon his feet. "Good God +Almighty!" he said, "this is the end of the world!" + +The blast was not long-lived. It fell to a murmur. Andrew King, now at +the window, could see nothing of the rain. There were no drops upon +the glass, nor sound upon the sycamores outside. But even while he +looked, and his grandfather, all his senses alert, waited for what was +to come, and the two pale women clung together, knowing what was to +come, there grew gradually another sound which, because it was +familiar, brought their terrors sharply to a point. + +It was the sound of sheep in a flock running. It came from afar and +grew in volume and distinctness; the innumerable small thudding of +sharp hoofs, the rustling of woolly bodies, the volleying of short +breath, and that indefinable sense of bustle which massed things +produce, passing swiftly. + +The sheep came on, panic-driven, voiceless in their fear, but speaking +aloud in the wildly clanging bells; they swept by the door of the +house with a sound like the rush of water; they disappeared in that +flash of sound. Old King cried, "Man, 'tis the sheep!" and flew for +his staff and shoes. Miranda followed to fetch them; but Andrew went +to the door as he was, shaking off his clinging wife, unlatched it and +let in a gale of wind. The dog shot out like a flame of fire and was +gone. + +It was as if the wind which was driving the sheep was going to scour +the house. It came madly, with indescribable force; it rushed into the +house, blew the window-curtains toward the middle of the room, drove +the fire outward and set the ashes whirling like snow all about. +Andrew King staggered before it a moment, then put his head down and +beat his way out. Mabilla shuddering shrank backward to the fireplace +and crouched there, waiting. Old King came out booted and cloaked, his +staff in his hand, battled to the door and was swept up the brae upon +the gale. Miranda did not appear; so Mabilla, white and rigid, was +alone in the whirling room. + +Creeping to her through the open door, holding to whatever solid thing +she could come by, entered Bessie Prawle. In all that turmoil and +chill terror she alone was hot. Her grudge was burning in her. She +could have killed Mabilla with her eyes. + +But she did not, for Mabilla was in the hands of greater and stronger +powers. Before Bessie Prawle's shocked eyes she was seen rigid and +awake. She was seen to cower as to some threatening shape, then to +stiffen, to mutter with her dry lips, and to grow still, to stare with +her wide eyes, and then to see nothing. A glaze swam over her eyes; +they were open, but as the eyes of the dead. + +Bessie Prawle, horror-struck, stretched out her arms to give her +shelter. All her honest humanity was reborn in her in this dreadful +hour. "My poor lass, I'll not harm ye," she was saying; but Mabilla +had begun to move. She moved as a sleep-walker, seeing but not seeing +her way; she moved as one who must, not as one who would. She went +slowly as if drawn to the open door. Bessie never tried to stop her; +she could not though she would. Slowly as if drawn she went to the +door, staring before her, pale as a cloth, rigid as a frozen thing. At +the threshold she swayed for a moment in the power of the storm; then +she was sucked out like a dried leaf and was no more seen. Overhead, +all about the eaves of the house the great wind shrilled mockery and +despairing mirth. The fire leapt toward the middle of the room and +fell back so much white ash. Bessie Prawle plumped down to her knees, +huddled, and prayed. + +Andrew King, coming back, found her there at it, alone. His eyes swept +the room. "Mabilla! Bessie Prawle, where is Mabilla?" The girl huddled +and prayed on. He took her by the shoulder and shook her to and fro. +"You foul wench, you piece, this is your doing." Bessie sobbed her +denials, but he would not hear her. Snatching up a staff, he turned, +threw her down in his fury. He left the house and followed the wind. + +The wind caught him the moment he was outside, and swept him onward +whether he would or not. He ran down the bank of the beck which seemed +to be racing him for a prize, leaping and thundering level with its +banks; before he had time to wonder whether the bridge still stood he +was up with it, over it and on the edge of the brae. Up the moorland +road he went, carried rather than running, and where it loses itself +in the first enclosure, being hard up against the wall, over he +vaulted, across the field and over the further wall. Out then upon the +open fell, where the heather makes great cushions, and between all of +them are bogs or stones, he was swept by the wind. It shrieked about +him and carried him up and over as if he were a leaf of autumn. Beyond +that was dangerous ground, but there was no stopping; he was caught in +the flood of the gale. He knew very well, however, whither it was +carrying him: to Knapp, that place of dread, whither he was now sure +Mabilla had been carried, resumed by her own people. There was no +drawing back, there was no time for prayer. All he could do was to +keep his feet. + +He was carried down the Dryhope fell, he said, into the next valley, +swept somehow over the roaring beck in the bottom, and up the rugged +side of Knapp, where the peat-hags are as high as rocks, and presently +knew without the help of his eyes that he was nearing the forest. He +heard the swishing of the trees, the cracking of the boughs, the sharp +crack and crash which told of some limb torn off and sent to ruin; and +he knew also by some hush not far off that the wind, great and furious +as it was, was to be quieted within that awful place. It was so. He +stood panting upon the edge of the wood, out of the wind, which roared +away overhead. He twittered with his foolish lips, not knowing what on +earth to do, nor daring to do anything had he known it; but all the +prayers he had ever learned were driven clean out of his head. + +He could dimly make out the tree-trunks immediately before him, low +bushes, shelves of bracken-fern; he could pierce somewhat into the +gloom beyond and see the solemn trees ranked in their order, and above +them a great soft blackness rent here and there to show the sky. The +volleying of the storm sounded like the sea heard afar off: it was so +remote and steady a noise that lesser sounds were discernible--the +rustlings, squeakings, and snappings of small creatures moving over +small undergrowth. Every one of these sent his heart leaping to his +mouth; but all his fears were to be swallowed up in amazement, for as +he stood there distracted, without warning, without shock, there stood +one by him, within touching distance, a child, as he judged it, with +loose hair and bright eyes, prying into his face, smiling at him and +inviting him to come on. + +"Who in God's name--?" cried Andrew King; but the child plucked him +by the coat and tried to draw him into the wood. + +I understand that he did not hesitate. If he had forgotten his gods he +had not forgotten his fairy-wife. I suppose, too, that he knew where +to look for her; he may have supposed that she had been resumed into +her first state. At any rate, he made his way into the forest by +guess-work, aided by reminiscence. I believe he was accustomed to aver +that he "knew where she was very well," and that he took a straight +line to her. I have seen Knapp Forest and doubt it. He did, however, +find himself in the dark spaces of the wood and there, sure enough, he +did also see the women with whom his Mabilla had once been co-mate. +They came about him, he said, like angry cats, hissing and shooting +out their lips. They did not touch him; but if eyes and white hateful +faces could have killed him, dead he had been then and there. + +He called upon God and Christ and made a way through them. His senses +had told him where Mabilla was. He found her pale and trembling in an +aisle of the trees. She leaned against a tall tree, perfectly rigid, +"as cold as a stone," staring across him with frozen eyes, her mouth +open like a round O. He took her in his arms and holding her close +turned and defied the "witches"--so he called them in his wrath. He +dared them in the name of God to touch him or his wife, and as he did +so he says that he felt the chill grow upon him. It took him, he said, +in the legs and ran up his body. It stiffened his arms till they felt +as if they must snap under the strain; it caught him in the neck and +fixed it. He felt his eyes grow stiff and hard; he felt himself sway. +"Then," he said, "the dark swam over me, the dark and the bitter cold, +and I knew nothing more." Questioned as he was by Mr. Robson and his +friends, he declared that it was at the name of God the cold got him +first. He saw the women hushed and scared, and at the same time one of +them looked over her shoulder, as if somebody was coming. Had he +called in the King of the Wood? That is what he himself thought. It +was the King of the Wood who had come in quest of Mabilla, had pulled +her out of the cottage in Dryhope and frozen her in the forest. It was +he, no doubt, said Andrew King, who had come to defy the Christian +and his God. I detect here the inspiration of his mother Miranda, the +strange sea-woman who knew Mabilla without mortal knowledge and spoke +to her in no mortal speech. But the sequel to the tale is a strange +one. + +Andrew King awoke to find himself in Mabilla's arms, to hear for the +first time in his life Mabilla call him softly by his name. "Andrew, +my husband," she called him, and when he opened his eyes in wonder to +hear her she said, "Andrew, take me home now. It is all over," or +words to that effect. They went along the forest and up and down the +fells together. The wind had dropped, the stars shone. And together +they took up their life where they had dropped it, with one +significant omission in its circumstance. Bessie Prawle had +disappeared from Dryhope. She had followed him up the fell on the +night of the storm, but she came not back. And they say that she never +did. Nothing was found of her body, though search was made; but a comb +she used to wear was picked up, they say, by the tarn on Limmer Fell, +an imitation tortoise-shell comb which used to hold up her hair. +Miranda King, who knew more than she would ever tell, had a shrewd +suspicion of the truth of the case. But Andrew King knew nothing, and +I daresay cared very little. He had his wood-wife, and she had her +voice; and between them, I believe, they had a child within the year. + +I ought to add that I have, with these eyes, seen Mabilla By-the-Wood +who became Mabilla King. When I went from Dryhopedale to Knapp Forest +she stood at the farmhouse door with a child in her arms. Two others +were tumbling about in the croft. She was a pretty, serious girl--for +she looked quite a girl--with a round face and large greyish-blue +eyes. She had a pink cotton dress on, and a good figure beneath it. +She was pale, but looked healthy and strong. Not a tall girl. I asked +her the best way to Knapp Forest and she came out to the gate to point +it to me. She talked simply, with a northern accent, and might have +been the child of generations of borderers. She pointed me the very +track by which Andrew King must have brought her home, by which the +King of the Wood swept her out on the wings of his wrath; she named +the tarn where once she dwelt as the spirit of a tree. All this +without a flush, a tremor or a sign in her blue eyes that she had ever +known the place. But these people are close, and seldom betray all +that they know or think. + + + + +OREADS + + +I end this little book with an experience of my own, or rather a +series of experiences, and will leave conclusions to a final chapter. +I don't say that I have no others which could have found a +place--indeed, there are many others. But they were fitful, momentary +things, unaccountable and unrelated to each other, without the main +clue which in itself is too intimate a thing to be revealed just yet, +and I am afraid of compiling a catalogue. I have travelled far and +wide across Europe in my day, not without spiritual experiences. If at +some future time these co-ordinate into a body of doctrine I will take +care to clothe that body in the vesture of print and paper. Here, +meantime, is something of recent years. + +My house at Broad Chalke stands in a narrow valley, which a little +stream waters more than enough. This valley is barely a mile broad +throughout its length, and in my village scarcely half so much. I can +be in the hills in a quarter of an hour, and in five-and-twenty +minutes find myself deeply involved, out of sight of man or his +contrivances. The downs in South Wilts are nowhere lofty, and have +none of the abrupt grandeur of those which guard the Sussex coast and +weald; but they are of much larger extent, broader, longer, more +untrodden, made much more intricate by the numberless creeks and +friths which, through some dim cycle of antiquity, the sea, ebbing +gradually to the great Avon delta, must have graved. Beautiful, with +quiet and a solemn peacefulness of their own, they always are. They +endure enormously, _in scula sculorum_. Storms drive over them, +mists and rains blot them out; rarely they are shrouded in a fleece of +snow. In spring the clouds and the light hold races up their flanks; +in summer they seem to drowse like weary monsters in the still and +fervent heat. They are never profoundly affected by such changes of +Nature's face; grow not awful, sharing her wrath, nor dangerously fair +when she woos them with kisses to love. They are the quiet and sober +spokesmen of earth, clad in Quaker greys and drabs. They show no +crimson at sunset, no gilded livery at dawn. The grey deepens to cool +purple, the brown glows to russet at such festal times. Early in the +spring they may drape themselves in tender green, or show their sides +dappled with the white of sheep. Flowers they bear, but secretly; +little curious orchids, bodied like bees, eyed like spiders, flecked +with the blood-drops of Attis or Adonis or some murdered +shepherd-boy; pale scabious, pale cowslip, thyme that breathes sharp +fragrance, "aromatic pain," as you crush it, potentilla, lady's +slipper, cloudy blue milkwort, toad-flax that shows silver to the +wind. Such as these they flaunt not, but wear for choiceness. You +would not see them unless you knew them there. For denizens they have +the hare, the fox, and the badger. Redwings, wheatears, peewits, and +airy kestrels are the people of their skies. + +I love above all the solitude they keep, and to feel the pulsing of +the untenanted air. The shepherd and his sheep, the limping hare, +lagging fox, wheeling, wailing plover; such will be your company: you +may dip deeply into valleys where no others will be by, hear the sound +of your own heart, or the shrilling of the wind in the upland bents. I +have heard, indeed, half a mile above me, the singing of the great +harps of wire which stretch from Sarum to Shaftesbury along the +highest ridge; but such a music is no disturbance of the peace; +rather, it assures you of solitude, for you wouldn't hear it were you +not ensphered with it alone. There's a valley in particular, lying +just under Chesilbury, where I choose most to be. Chesilbury, a huge +grass encampment, three hundred yards square, with fosse and rampart +still sharp, with a dozen gateways and three mist-pools within its +ambit, which stands upon the ancient road and dominates two valleys. +Below that, coming up from the south, is my charmed valley. There, I +know, the beings whom I call Oreads, for want of a homelier word, +haunt and are to be seen now and then. I know, because I myself have +seen them. + +I must describe this Oread-Valley more particularly, I believe. East +and west, above it, runs the old road we call the Race-Plain--the +highest ground hereabouts, rising from Harnham by Salisbury to end at +Shaftesbury in Dorset. North of this ridge is Chesilbury Camp; +immediately south of that is the valley. Here the falling flood as it +drained away must have sucked the soil out sharply at two neighbouring +points, for this valley has two heads, and between them stands a +grass-grown bluff. The western vale-head is quite round but very +steep. It faces due south and has been found grateful by thorns, +elders, bracken and even heather. But the eastern head is sharper, +begins almost in a point. From that it sweeps out in a huge demi-lune +of cliff, the outer cord being the east, the inner hugging the bluff. +Facing north from the valley, facing these two heads, you see the +eastern of them like a great amphitheatre, its steep embayed side so +smooth as to seem the work of men's hands. It is too steep for turf; +it is grey with marl, and patchy where scree of flint and chalk has +run and found a lodgment. Ice-worn it may be, man-wrought it is not. +No red-deer picks have been at work there, no bright-eyed, scrambling +hordes have toiled their shifts or left traces through the centuries +as at the Devil's Dyke. This noble arena is Nature's. Here I saw her +people more than once. And the first sign I had of them was this. + + +I + +I was here alone one summer's night; a night of stars, but without a +moon. I lay within the scrub of the western valley-head and looked +south. I could just see the profile of the enfolding hills, but only +just; could guess that in the soft blackness below me, filling up the +foreground like a lake, the valley was there indeed; realise that if I +stepped down, perhaps thirty yards or so, my feet would sink into the +pile of the turf-carpet, and feel the sharp benediction of the dew. +About me surged and beat an enormous silence. The only sound at +all--and that was fitful--came from a fern-owl which, from a +thorn-bush above me, churred softly and at intervals his content with +the night. + +The stars were myriad, but sky-marks shone out; the Bear, the Belt, +the Chair, the dancing sister Pleiades. The Galaxy was like a +snow-cloud; startlingly, by one, by two, meteors flared a short +course and died. You never feel lonely when you have the stars; yet +they do not pry upon you. You can hide nothing from them, and need not +seek to hide. If they have foreknowledge, they nurse no after-thought. + +Now, to-night, as I looked and wondered at their beauty, I became +aware of a phenomenon untold before. Yet so quietly did it come, and +so naturally, that it gave me no disturbance, nor forced itself upon +me. A luminous ring, a ring of pale fire, in shape a long, narrow, and +fluctuating oval, became discernible in the sky south of my +stand-point, midway (I thought) between me and the south. + +It was diaphanous, or diaphanous to strong light behind it. At one +time I saw the great beacon of the south-west (Saturn, I think) +burning through it; not within the ring, but from behind the litten +vapour of which the ring was made. Lesser fires than his were put out +by it. It varied very much in shape as it spread or drew out, as a +smoker's blue rings are varied by puffs of wind. Now it was a perfect +round, now so long as to be less a hoop than a fine oblong. Sometimes +it was pear-shaped, sometimes amorphous; bulbous here, hollow there. +And there seemed movement; I thought now and again that it was spiral +as well as circular, that it might, under some stress of speed, +writhe upward like dust in a whirlwind. It wavered, certainly, in +elevation, lifting, sinking, wafted one way or another with the ease +of a cloud of gnats. It was extraordinarily beautiful and exciting. I +watched it for an hour. + +At times I seemed to be conscious of more than appearance. I cannot +speak more definitely than that. Music was assuredly in my head, very +shrill, piercing, continuous music. No air, no melody, but the +expectancy of an air, preparation for it, a prelude to melodious +issues. You may say the overture to some vast aerial symphony; I know +not what else to call it. I was never more than alive to it, never +certain of it. It was as furtive, secret, and tremulous as the dawn +itself. Now, just as under that shivering and tentative opening of +great music you are conscious of the fierce energy of violins, so was +I aware, in this surmise of music, of wild forces which made it. I +thought not of voices but of wings. I was sure that this ring of flame +whirled as well as floated in the air; the motion and the sound, alike +indecipherable, were one and the same to me. + +I watched it, I say, for an hour: it may have been for two hours. +By-and-by it came nearer, gradually very near. It was now dazzling, +not to be looked at full; but its rate of approach was inappreciable, +and as it came on I was able to peer into it and see nothing but its +beauty. There was a core of intensity, intolerably bright; about that, +lambency but no flame, in which I saw leaves and straws and fronds of +fern flickering, spiring, heeling over and over. That it whirled as +well as floated was now clear, for a strong wind blew before and after +it as it rushed by. This happened as I sat there. Blinding but not +burning, heralded by a keen wind, it came by me and passed; a swift +wind followed it as it went. It swept out toward the hollow of the +eastern valley-head, seemed to strike upon that and glance upward; +thence it swept gladly up, streaming to the zenith, grew thin, fine +and filmy, and seemed to melt into the utmost stars. I had seen +wonders and went home full of thought. + + +II + +I first saw an Oread in this place in a snow-storm which, driven by a +north-westerly gale, did havoc to the lowlands, but not to the folded +hills. I had pushed up the valley in the teeth of the storm to see it +under the white stress. It was hard work for me and my dog; I had to +wade knee-deep, and he to jump, like a cat in long grass, through the +drifts. But we reached our haven and found shelter from the weather. +High above us where we stood the snow-flakes tossed and rioted, but +before they fell upon us being out of the wind, they drifted idly +down, _come ... in Alpe senza vento_. The whole valley was purely +white, its outlines blurred by the slant-driving snow. There was not a +living creature to be seen, and my dog, a little sharp-nosed black +beast, shivered as he looked about, with wide eyes and quick-set ears, +for a friendly sight, and held one paw tentatively in the air, as if +he feared the cold. + +Suddenly he yelped once, and ran, limping on three legs or scuttling +on all four, over the snow toward the great eastern escarpment, but +midway stopped and looked with all his might into its smoothed hollow. +His jet-black ears stood sharp as a hare's; through the white scud I +was conscious that he trembled. He gazed into the sweep of the curving +hill, and following the direction he gave me, all my senses quick, I +gazed also, but for a while saw nothing. + +Very gradually, without alarm on my part, a blur of colour seemed to +form itself and centre in one spot, half-way up the concave of the +down; very pale yellow, a soft, lemon colour. At first scarcely more +than a warm tinge to the snow, it took shape as I watched it, and then +body also. It was now opaque within semi-transparency; one could trace +an outline, a form. Then I made out of it a woman dressed in yellow; a +slim woman, tawny-haired, in a thin smock of lemon-yellow which +flacked and bellied in the gale. Her hair blew out to it in snaky +streamers, sideways. Her head was bent to meet the cold, her bare +white arms were crossed, and hugged her shoulders, as if to keep her +bosom warm. From mid-thigh downward she was bare and very white, yet +distinct upon the snow. That was the white of chilled flesh I could +see. Though she wore but a single garment, and that of the thinnest +and shortest, though she suffered cold, hugged herself and shivered, +she was not of our nature, to die of such exposure. Her eyes, as I +could guess, were long-enduring and steadfast. Her lips were not blue, +though her teeth seemed to chatter; she was not rigid with the +stiffening that precedes frozen death. Drawing near her by degrees, +coming within fifteen yards of where she stood and passioned, though +she saw me, waited for me, in a way expected me, she showed neither +fear nor embarrassment, nor appealed by looks for shelter. She was, +rather, like a bird made tame by winter, that finds the lesser fear +swallowed up in a greater. For myself, as when one finds one's self +before a new thing, one stands and gazes, so was I before this being +of the wild. I would go no nearer, speak I could not. But I had no +fear. She was new to me not strange. I felt that she and I belonged to +worlds apart; that as soon might I hope to be familiar with fox or +marten as with her. My little black dog was of the same mind. He was +glad when I joined him, and wagged his little body--tail he has +none--to say so. But he had no eyes for me, nor I for him. We stood +together for company, and filled our eyes with the tenant of the +waste. How long we watched her I have no notion, but the day fell +swiftly in and found us there. + +She was, I take it, quite young, she was slim and of ordinary +proportions. When I say that I mean that she had nothing inhuman about +her stature, was neither giant nor pygmy. Whether she was what we call +good-looking or not I find it impossible to determine, for when +strangeness is so added to beauty as to absorb and transform it, our +standards are upset and balances thrown out. She was pale to the lips, +had large, fixed and patient eyes. Her arms and legs showed greyish in +the white storm, but where the smock was cut off the shadows it made +upon her were faintly warm. One of her knees was bent, the foot +supported only by the toes. The other was firm upon the ground: she +looked, to the casual eye, to be standing on one leg. Her eyes in a +stare covered me, but were not concerned to see me so near. They had +the undiscerning look of one whose mind is numbed, as hers might well +be. Shelter--a barn, a hayrick--lay within a mile of her; and yet she +chose to suffer the cold, and was able to endure it. She knew it, I +supposed, for a thing not to be avoided; she took it as it came--as +she would have taken the warmth and pleasure of the sun. We humankind +with our wits for ever turned inward to ourselves, grieve or exult as +we bid ourselves: she, like all other creatures else, was not in that +self-relation; her parts were closer-knit, and could not separate to +envisage each other. So, at least, I read her--that she lived as she +could and as she must, neither looked back with regret nor forward +with longing. Time present, the flashing moment, was all her being. +That state will never be ours again. + +I discovered before nightfall what she waited for there alone in the +cruel weather. A moving thing emerged from the heart of the white +fury, came up the valley along the shelving down: a shape like hers, +free-moving, thinly clad, suffering yet not paralysed by the storm. It +shaped as a man, a young man, and her mate. Taller, darker, stoutlier +made, his hardy legs were browner, and so were his arms--crossed like +hers over his breast and clasping his shoulders. His head was bare, +dark and crisply covered with short hair. His smock whipped about him +before, as the wind drove it; behind him it flacked and fluttered like +a flag. Patiently forging his way, bowing his head to the gale, he +came into range; and she, aware of him, waited. + +He came directly to her. They greeted by touchings. He stretched out +his hands to her, touched her shoulders and sides. He touched both her +cheeks, her chin, the top of her head, all with the flat of the palm. +He stroked her wet and streaming hair. He held her by the shoulders +and peered into her face, then put both arms about her and drew her to +him. She, who had so far made no motions of her own, now uncrossed her +arms and daintily touched him in turn. She put both her palms flat +upon his breast; next on his thighs, next, being within the circle of +his arms, she put up her hands and cupped his face. Then, with a +gesture like a sigh, she let them fall to his waist, fastened them +about him and let her head lie on his bosom. She shut her eyes, seemed +contented and appeased. He clasped her, with a fine, protecting air +upon him, looking down tenderly at her resting head. So they stood +together in the dusk, while the wind tore at their thin covering, and +the snow, lying, made a broad patch of white upon his shoulder. + +Breathless I looked at them, and my dog forgot to be cold. High on his +haunches, with lifted forepaw and sharp-cocked ears, he watched, +trembled and whined. + +After a while, impatient as it appeared of the ravaging storm, the +male drew the female to the ground. They used no language, as we +understand it, and made no sign that I could see, but rather sank +together to get the shelter of the drift. He lay upon the snow, upon +the weather side, she close beside him. They crouched like two birds +in a storm, and hid their heads under their interlacing arms. He gave +the weather his back, and raised himself on his elbow, the better to +shield her. Within his arm she lay and cuddled to him snugly. I can +describe his action no more closely than by saying that he covered her +as a hen her chick. As a partridge grouts with her wings in a dusty +furrow, so he worked in the powdered snow to make her a nest. When the +night fell upon them, with its promise of bitter frost in the +unrelenting wind, she lay screened against its rigours by the shelter +of him. They were very still. Their heads were together, their cheeks +touched. I believe that they slept. + + +III + +In the autumn, in harvest-time, I saw her with a little one. She was +lying now, deeply at ease, in the copse wood of the valley-head, +within a nest of brake-fern, and her colouring was richer, more in +tune with the glory of the hour. She had a burnt glow in her cheeks; +her hair showed the hue of the corn which, not a mile away, our people +were reaping afield. From where we were, she and I, one could hear the +rattle of the machine as it swept down the tall and serried wheat. It +was the top of noon when I found her; the sun high in heaven, but so +fierce in his power that you saw him through a mist of his own making, +and the sky all about him white as a sea-fog. The Oread's body was +sanguine brown, only her breast, which I saw half-revealed through a +slit in her smock, was snowy white. It was the breast of a maiden, not +of a mother with a young child. + +She leaned over it and watched it asleep. Once or twice she touched +its head in affection; then presently looked up and saw me. If I had +had no surprise coming upon her, neither now had she. Her eyes took me +in, as mine might take in a tree not noticed before, or a flowering +bush, or a finger-post. Such things might well be there, and might +well not be; I had no particular interest for her, and gave her no +alarm. Nothing assures me so certainly of her remoteness from myself, +and of my kinship with her too, as this absence of shock. + +She allowed me to come nearer, and nearer still, to stand close over +her and examine the child. She did not lift her head, but I knew that +she was aware of me; for her eyelids lifted and fell quickly, and +showed me once or twice her watchful eyes. She was indeed a beautiful +creature, exquisite in make and finish. Her skin shone like the petals +of certain flowers. There is one especially, called _Sisyrinchium_, +whose common name of Satin-flower describes a surface almost metallic +in its lustre. I thought of that immediately: her skin drank in and +exhaled light. I could not hit upon the stuff of which her shift was +made. It looked like coarse silk, had a web, had fibres or threads. It +may have been flax, but that it was much too sinuous. It seemed to +stick to the body where it touched, even to seek the flesh where it +did not touch, that it might cling like gossamer with invisible +tentacles. In colour it was very pale yellow, not worn nor stained. It +was perfectly simple, sleeveless, and stopped half-way between the hip +and the knee. I looked for, but could not discover, either hem or +seam. Her feet and hands were very lovely, the toes and fingers long +and narrow, rosy-brown. I had full sight of her eyes for one throbbing +moment. Extraordinarily bright, quick and pulsing, waxing and waning +in intensity (as if an inner light beat in them), of the grey colour +of a chipped flint stone. The lashes were long, curving and very dark; +they were what you might call smut-colour and gave a blurred effect to +the eyes which was strange. This, among other things, was what set her +apart from us, this and the patient yet palpitating stare of her +regard. She looked at me suddenly, widely and full, taking in much +more than me, yet making me the centre of her vision. It gave me the +idea that she was surprised at my nearness and ready for any attack, +but did not seek to avoid it. There I was overstanding her and her +offspring; and what was must be. + +Of the little one I could not see much. It was on its side in the +fern, fast asleep. Its arms were stretched up the slope, its face was +between them. Its knees were bent and a little foot tucked up to touch +its body. Quite naked, brown all over, it was as plump and smooth and +tender as a little pig. But it was not pink; it was very brown. + +All nature seemed at the top of perfection that wonderful day. A hawk +soared high in the blue, bees murmured all about, the distance +quivered. I could see under the leaves of a great mullein the bright +eyes, then the round body of a mouse. Afar off the corn-cutter rattled +and whirred, and above us on the ridgeway some workmen sat at their +dinner under the telegraph wires. Men were all about us at their +affairs with Nature's face; and here stood I, a man of themselves, and +at my feet the Oread lay at ease and watched her young. There was food +for wonder in all this, but none for doubt. Who knows what his +neighbour sees? Who knows what his dog? Every species of us walks +secret from the others; every species of us the centre of his +universe, its staple of measure, and its final cause. And if at times +one is granted a peep into new heavens and a new earth, and can get no +more, perhaps the best thing we win from that is the conviction that +we must doubt nothing and wonder at everything. Here, now, was I, +common, blundering, trampling, make-shift man, peering upon my +Oread--fairy of the hill, whatever she was--and tempted to gauge her +by my man-taught balances of right and wrong, and use and wont. Was +that young male who had sheltered her in the snow her mate in truth, +the father of her young one? Or what sort of mating had been hers? +What wild love? What mysteries of the night? And where was he now? And +was he one, or were they many, who companioned this beautiful thing? +And would he come if I waited for him? And would he share her watch, +her quiet content, her still rapture? + +Idle, man-made questions, custom-taught! I did wait. I sat by her +waiting. But he did not come. + + +IV + +A month later, in October, I saw a great assembling of Oreads, by +which I was able to connect more than one experience. I could now +understand the phenomenon of the luminous ring. + +I reached the valley by about six o'clock in the evening. It was +twilight, not yet dusk. The sun was off the hollow, which lay in blue +mist, but above the level of the surrounding hills the air was bathed +in the sunset glow. The hush of evening was over all, the great cup of +the down absolutely desert; there were no birds, nor voices of birds; +not a twig snapped, not a leaf rustled. Imperceptibly the shadows +lengthened, faded with the light; and again behind the silence I +guessed at, rather than discerned, a preparatory, gathering music. So +finally, by twos and threes, they came to their assembling. + +Once more I never saw them come. Out of the mist they drifted +together. There had been a moment when they were not there; there was +a moment when I saw them. I saw three of them together, two females +and a male. They formed a circle, facing inwards, their arms +intertwined. The pale colour of their garments, the grey tones in +their flesh were so perfectly in tune with the hazy light, that it +would have been impossible, I am certain, to have seen them at all at +a hundred yards' distance. I could not determine whether they were +conversing or not: if they were, it was without speech. I have never +heard an articulate sound from any one of them, and have no provable +reason for connecting the unvoiced music I have sometimes discerned +with any act of theirs. It has accompanied them, and may have +proceeded from them--but I don't know that. Of these three linked +together I remember that one of them threw back her head till she +faced the sky. She did not laugh, or seem to be laughing: there was no +sound. It was rather as if she was bathing her face in the light. She +threw her head back so far that I could see the gleam in her wild +eyes; her hair streamed downward, straight as a fall of water. The +other two regarded her, and the male presently withdrew one of his +arms from the circle and laid his hand upon her. She let it be so; +seemed not to notice. + +Imperceptibly others had come about these three. If I took my eyes off +a group for a moment they were attracted to other groups or single +shapes. Some lay at ease on the sward, resting on elbow; some prone, +on both elbows; some seemed asleep, their heads on molehill pillows; +some sat huddling together, with their chins upon their knees; some +knelt face to face and held each other fondly; some were teasing, some +chasing others, winding in and out of the scattered groups. But +everything was doing in complete silence. + +Now and again one, flying from another, would rise in the air, the +pursuer following. They skimmed, soared, glided like swallows, in long +sweeping curves--there was no noise in their flight. They were quite +without reticence in their intercourse; desired or avoided, loved or +hated as the moment urged them; strove to win, struggled to escape, +achieved or surrendered without remark from their companions. They +were like children or animals. Desire was reason good; and if love was +soon over, hate lasted no longer. One passion or the other set them +scuffling: when it was spent they had no after-thought. + +One pretty sight I saw. A hare came lolloping over the valley bottom, +quite at his ease. In the midst of the assembly he stopped to nibble, +then reared himself up and cleaned his face. He saw them and they him +without concern on either side. + +The valley filled up; I could not count the shifting, crossing, +restless shapes I saw down there. Presently, without call or signal, +as if by one consent, the Oreads joined hands and enclosed the whole +circuit in their ring. The effect in the dusk was of a pale glow, as +of the softest fire, defining the contour of the valley; and soon they +were moving, circling round and round. Shriller and louder swelled the +hidden music, and faster span the ring. It whirled and wavered, lifted +and fell, but so smoothly, with such inherent power of motion, that it +was less like motion visible than motion heard. Nothing was +distinguishable but the belt of pale fire. That which I had seen +before they had now become--a ring of flame intensely swift. As if +sucked upward by a centripetal force it rose in the air. Wheeling +still with a sound incredibly shrill it rose to my level, swept by me +heralded by a keen wind, and was followed by a draught which caught +leaves and straws of grass and took them swirling along. Round and up, +and ever up it went, narrowing and spiring to the zenith. There, +looking long after it, I saw it diminish in size and brightness till +it became filmy as a cloud, then melted into the company of the +stars. + + + + +A SUMMARY CHAPTER + + +Now, it is the recent publication by Mr. Evans Wentz of a careful and +enthusiastic work upon _The Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries_ which has +inspired me to put these pages before the public. Some of them have +appeared in the magazines as curious recitals and may have afforded +pastime to the idle-minded, but without the courageous initiative of +Mr. Wentz I don't know that I should have attempted to give them such +coherence as they may claim to possess. And that, I fear, will be very +little without this chapter in which I shall, if I can, clear the +ground for a systematic study of the whole subject. No candid reader +can, I hope, rise from the perusal of the book without the conviction +that behind the world of appearance lies another and a vaster with a +thronging population of its own--with many populations, indeed, each +absorbed in uttering its being according to its own laws. If I have +afforded nothing else I have afforded glimpses into that world; and +the question now is, What do we precisely gather, what can we be said +to know of the laws of that world in which these swift, beautiful and +apparently ruthless creatures live and move and utter themselves? I +shall have to draw upon more than I have recorded here: cases which I +have heard of, which I have read of in other men's books, as well as +those which are related here as personal revelation. If I speak +pragmatically, _ex cathedr_, it is not intentional. If I fail +sometimes to give chapter and verse it will be because I have never +taken any notes of what has gone into my memory, and have no documents +to hand. But I don't invent; I remember. + + * * * * * + +There is a chain of Being of whose top alike and bottom we know +nothing at all. What we do know is that our own is a link in it, and +cannot generally, can only fitfully and rarely, have intercourse with +any other. I am not prepared with any modern instances of intercourse +with the animal and vegetable world, even to such a limited extent, +for instance, as that of Balaam with his ass, or that of Achilles with +his horses; but I suspect that there are an enormous number +unrecorded. Speech, of course, is not necessary to such an +intercourse. Speech is a vehicle of human intercourse, but not of that +of any other created order so far as we know.[8] Birds and beasts do +not converse in speech, smell or touch seems to be the sense +employed; and though the vehicles of smell and touch are unknown to +us, in moments of high emotion we ourselves converse otherwise than by +speech. Indeed, seeing that all created things possess a spirit +whereby they are what they are, it does not seem necessary to suppose +intercourse impossible without speech, and I myself have never had any +difficulty in accepting the stories of much more vital mixed +intercourse which we read of in the Greek and other mythologies. If we +read, for instance, that such and such a man or woman was the +offspring of a woman and the spirit of a river, or of a man and the +spirit of a hill or oak-tree, it does not seem to me at all +extraordinary. The story of the wife who suffered a fairy union and +bore a fairy child which disappeared with her is a case in point. The +fairy father was, so far as I can make out, the indwelling spirit of a +rose, and the story is too painful and the detail in my possession too +exact for me to put it down here. I was myself actually present, and +in the house, when the child was born. I witnessed the anguish of the +unfortunate husband, who is now dead. Mr. Wentz has many instances of +the kind from Ireland and other Celtic countries; but fairies are by +no means confined to Celtic countries, though they are more easily +discerned by Celtic races. + +[Footnote 8: The speech of Balaam's ass or of Balaam, of Achilles and +his horses are, of course, necessary conventions of the poet's and do +not imply that words passed between the parties.] + +Of this chain of Being, then, of which our order is a member, the +fairy world is another and more subtle member, subtler in the right +sense of the word because it is not burdened with a material envelope. +Like man, like the wind, like the rose, it has spirit; but unlike any +of the lower orders, of which man is one, it has no sensible wrapping +unless deliberately it consents to inhabit one. This, as we know, it +frequently does. I have mentioned several cases of the kind; Mrs. +Ventris was one, Mabilla By-the-Wood was another. I have not +personally come across any other cases where a male fairy took upon +him the burden of a man than that of Quidnunc. Even there I have never +been satisfied that Quidnunc became man to the extent that Mrs. +Ventris did. Quidnunc, no doubt, was the father of Lady Emily's +children; but were those children human? There are some grounds for +thinking so, and in that case, if "the nature follows the male," +Quidnunc must have doffed his immateriality and suffered real +incarnation. If they were fairy children the case is altered. Quidnunc +need not have had a body at all. Now since it is clear that the fairy +world is a real order of creation, with laws of its own every whit as +fixed and immutable as those of any other order known to naturalists, +it is very reasonable to inquire into the nature and scope of those +laws. I am not at all prepared at present to attempt anything like a +digest of them. That would require a lifetime; and no small part of +the task, after marshalling the evidence, would be to agree upon terms +which would be intelligible to ourselves and yet not misleading. To +take polity alone, are we to understand that any kind of Government +resembling that of human societies obtains among them? When we talk of +Queens or Kings of the Fairies, of Oberon and Titania, for example, +are we using a rough translation of a real something, or are we +telling the mere truth? Is there a fairy king? The King of the Wood, +for instance, who was he? Is there a fairy queen? Who is Queen Mab? +Who is Despoina? Who is the Lady of the Lake? Who is the "_[Greek: +Basilissa tn bounn]_," or "_[Greek: Megal Kura]_" of whom Mr. +Lawson tells us such suggestive things in his _Modern Greek +Folk-lore?_ Who is Despoina, with whom I myself have conversed, "a +dread goddess, not of human speech?" The truth, I suspect, is this. +There are, as we know, countless tribes, clans, or orders of fairies, +just as there are nations of men. They confess the power of some +greater Spirit among themselves, bow to it instantly and submit to its +decrees; but they do not, so far as I can understand, acknowledge a +monarchy in any sense of ours. If there is a Supreme Power over the +fairy creation it is Proserpine; but hers is too remote an empire to +be comparable to any of ours. Not even Csar, not even the Great King, +could hope to rule such myriads as she. She may stand for the +invisible creation no doubt, but she would never have commerce with +it. No fairy hath seen her at any time; no sovereignty such as we are +now discussing would be applicable to her dominion. That of Artemis, +or that of Pan, is more comparable. Artemis is certainly ruler of the +spirits of the air and water, of the hills and shores of the sea, and +to some extent her power overlaps that of Pan who is potent in nearly +all land solitudes. But really the two lord-ships can be exactly +discriminated. They never conflict. The legions of Artemis are all +female, though on earth men as well as women worship her; the legions +of Pan are all male, though on earth he can chasten women as well as +men.[9] But Pan can do nothing against Artemis, nor she anything +against him or any of his. The decree or swift deed of either is +respected by the other. They are not, then, as earthly kings, leaders +of their hosts to battle against their neighbours. Fairies fight and +marshal themselves for war; Mr. Wentz has several cases of the kind. +But Pan and Artemis have no share in these warfares. Queen Mab is one +of the many names, and points to one of the many manifestations of +Artemis; the Lady of the Lake is another. Both of these have died out, +and in the country she is generally hinted at under the veil of +"Mistress of the Wood" or "Lady of the Hill." I heard the latter from +a Wiltshire shepherd; the former is used in Sussex, in the Cheviots, +and in Lincolnshire, and was introduced, I believe, by the Gipsies. +Titania was a name of romance, and so was Oberon, that of her husband +in romance. Queen Mab has no husband, nor will she ever have. + +[Footnote 9: But if this is true, who is the King of the Wood? The +statement is too sweeping.] + +But she is, of course, a goddess, and not a queen in our sense of the +word. The fairies, who partake of her nature just so far as we partake +of theirs, pray to her, invoke her, and make her offerings every day. +But a vital difference between their kind and ours is that they can +see her and live; and we never see the Gods until we die. + +They have no other leaders, I believe, and certainly no royal houses. +Faculty is free in the fairy world to its utmost limit. A fairy's +power within his own order is limited only by the extent of his +personal faculty, and subject only to the Gods. There is no civil law +to restrain him, and no moral law; no law at all except the law of +being.[10] + +[Footnote 10: Apparent eccentricities of this law, such as the +obedience to iron, or zinc (if we may believe Beckwith), should be +noted. I can't explain them. They seem arbitrary at first sight, but +nothing in Nature is arbitrary.] + +We are contemplating, then, a realm, nay, a world, where anarchy is +the rule, and anarchy in the widest sense. The fairies are of a world +where Right and Wrong don't obtain, where Possible and Impossible are +the only finger-posts at cross-roads; for the Gods themselves give no +moral sanction to desire and hold up no moral check. The fairies love +and hate intensely; they crave and enjoy; they satisfy by kindness or +cruelty; they serve or enslave each other; they give life or take it +as their instinct, appetite or whim may be. But there is this +remarkable thing to be noted, that when a thing is dead they cannot be +aware of its existence. For them it is not, it is as if it had never +been. Ruth, therefore, is unknown, their emotions are maimed to that +serious extent that they cannot regret, cannot pity, cannot weep for +sorrow. They weep through rage, but sorrow they know not. Similarly, +they cannot laugh for joy. Laughing with them is an expression of +pleasure, but not of joy. Here then, at least, we have the better of +them. I for one would not exchange my privilege of pity or my +consolation of pure sorrow for all their transcendent faculty. + +It is often said that fairies of both sexes seek our kind because we +know more of the pleasure of love than they do. Since we know more of +the griefs of it that is likely to be true; but it is a great mistake +to suppose that they are unsusceptible to the great heights and deeps +of the holy passion. It is to make the vulgar confusion between the +passion and the expression of it. They are capable of the greatest +devotion to the beloved, of the greatest sacrifice of all--the +sacrifice of their own nature. These fairy-wives of whom I have been +speaking--Miranda King, Mabilla By-the-Wood--when they took upon them +our nature, and with it our power of backward-looking and +forward-peering, was what they could remember, was what they must +dread, no sacrifice? They could have escaped at any moment, mind you, +and been free.[11] Resuming their first nature they would have lost +regret. But they did not. Love was their master. There are many cases +of the kind. With men it is otherwise. I have mentioned Mary Wellwood, +the carpenter's wife, twice taken by a fairy and twice recaptured. The +last time she was brought back to Ashby-de-la-Zouche she died there. +But there is reason for this. A woman marrying a male fairy gets +some, but not all, of the fairy attributes, while her children have +them in full at birth. She bears them with all the signs of human +motherhood, and directly they are born her earthly rights and duties +cease. She does not nurse them and she can only rise in the air when +they are with her. That means that she cannot go after them if they +are long away from her, unless she can get another fairy to keep her +company. By the same mysterious law she can only conceal herself, or +doff her appearance, with the aid of a fairy. For some time after her +abduction or surrender her husband has to nourish her by breathing +into her mouth; but with the birth of her first child she can support +herself in the fairy manner. It was owing to this imperfect state of +being that Mary Wellwood was resumed by her friends the first time. +The second time she went back of her own accord. + +[Footnote 11: When a fairy marries a man she gradually loses her +fairy-power and her children have none of it or only vestiges--so much +as the children of a genius may perhaps exhibit. I am not able to say +how long the fairy-wife's ability to resume her own nature lasts. _The +Forsaken Merman_ occurs to one; but I doubt if Miranda King, at the +time, say, of her son's marriage with Mabilla, could have gone back to +the sea. Sometimes, as in Mrs. Ventris's case, fairy-wives play truant +for a night or for a season. I have reason to believe that not +uncommon. The number of fairy-wives in England alone is very +considerable--over a quarter of a million, I am told.] + +But with regard to their love-business among themselves it is a very +different matter, so far as I can understand it. The fairy child is +initiated at the age of puberty and is then competent to pair. He is +not long in selecting his companion; nor does she often seem to refuse +him, though mating is done by liking in all cases and has nothing +whatever to do with the parents. It must be remembered, of course, +that they are subject to the primitive law from which man only has +freed himself. They frequently fight for the possession of the female, +or measure their powers against each other; and she goes with the +victor or the better man.[12] I don't know any case where the advance +has been made by the female. Pairing may be for a season or for a +period or for life. I don't think there is any rule; but in all cases +of separation the children are invariably divided--the males to the +father, the females to the mother. After initiation the children owe +no allegiance to their parents. Love with them is a wild and wonderful +rapture in all its manifestations, and without regard necessarily to +sex. I never, in my life, saw a more beautiful expression of it than +in the two females whom I saw greet and embrace on Parliament Hill. +Their motions to each other, their looks and their clinging were +beyond expression tender and swift. Nor shall I ever forget the pair +of Oreads in the snow, of whose meeting I have said as much as is +possible in a previous chapter. It must be remembered that I am +dealing with an order of Nature which knows nothing of our shames and +qualms, which is not only unconscious of itself but unconscious of +anything but its immediate desire; but I am dealing with it to the +understanding of a very different order, to whom it is not enough to +do a thing which seems good in its own eyes, but requisite also to be +sure of the approbation of its fellow-men. I should create a wrong +impression were I to enlarge upon this branch of my subject; I should +make my readers call fairies shameful when as a fact they know not the +meaning of shame, or reprove them for shamelessness when, indeed, they +are luckily without it. I shall make bold to say once for all that as +it is absurd to call the lightning cruel, so it is absurd to call +shameful those who know nothing about the deformity. No one can know +what love means who has not seen the fairies at their loving--and so +much for that. + +[Footnote 12: I saw an extraordinary case of that, where a male came +suddenly before a mated pair, asserted himself and took her to himself +incontinent. There was no fighting. He stood and looked. The period of +suspense was breathless but not long.] + +The laws which govern the appearance of fairies to mankind or their +commerce with men and women seem to be conditioned by the ability of +men to perceive them. The senses of men are figuratively speaking +lenses coloured or shaped by personality. How are we to know the form +and pressure of the great river Enipeus, whose shape, for the love of +Tyro, Poseidon took? And so the accounts of fairy appearance, of fairy +shape, size, vesture, will vary in the measure of the faculty of the +percipient. To me, personally, the fairies seem to go in gowns of +yellow, grey, russet or green, but mostly in yellow or grey. The +Oreads or Spirits of the hills vary. In winter their vesture is +yellow, in summer it is ash-green. The Dryad whom I saw was in grey, +the colour of the lichened oak-tree out of which she gleamed. The +fairies in a Norman forest had long brown garments, very close and +clinging, to the ankles. They were belted, and their hair was loose. +But that is invariable. I never saw a fairy with snooded or tied up +hair. They are always bare-footed. Despoina is the only fairy I ever +saw in any other colour than those I have named. She always wears +blue, of the colour of the shadows on a moonlight night, very +beautiful. She, too, wears sandals, which they say the Satyrs weave +for her as a tribute. They lay them down where she has been or is +likely to be; for they never see her. + +But this matter of vesture is really a digression: I have more +important matter in hand, and that is to consider the intercourse +between fairy and mortal, as it is governed by appearance. How does a +man, for instance, gain a fairy-wife? How does a woman give herself to +a fairy-lover? I have given a careful account of a case of each sort +in answer. Young King gained his wife by capture; Lady Emily Rich +followed her lover at a look. + +But this does not really touch the point, which is, rather, how was +Lady Emily Rich brought or put into such a relation with Quidnunc +that she could receive a look from him? How was King put into such a +relation with Mabilla that he could take her away from her own people? +There must have been an incarnation, you would say; and I should agree +with you. Now in Andrew King's case there was belief to go upon, the +belief common to all the Cheviot side, handed down to it from untold +generations and never lost; coupled with that, there was an intense +and probably long-standing desire in the young man himself to realise +and substantiate his belief. He had brooded over it, his fancy had +gone to work upon it; he loved his Mabilla before ever he saw her; his +love, it was, which evoked her. And I take it as proved--at any rate +it is proved to my own satisfaction--that faith coupled with desire +has power--the power of suggestion it is called--over Spirit as it +certainly has over Matter. If I say, then, that Andrew King evoked +Mabilla By-the-Wood, called her out of her own world into his, I +assert two things: the first, that she was really at one time in her +own world, the second, that she was afterward really in his. The +second my own senses can vouch for. That she was fetched back by the +King of the Wood and recaptured by Andrew are minor points. Grant the +first taking and there is no difficulty about them. + +Mr. Lawson gives cases from Greece which point to certain ritual +performances on the part of the lover; the snatching, for instance, of +a handkerchief from the beloved, of which the preservation is +tantamount to the permanence of the subsequent union. He has a curious +case, too, of a peasant who married a nymph and gave her a child but +could not make her speak to him. He consulted a wise woman who advised +him to threaten her with the fire for the baby if she would not talk. +He did it and the charm worked. The Nymph spoke fiercely to him, "You +dog, leave my child alone," she said, and seized it from him, and with +it disappeared. That is parallel to my case where love made Mabilla +speak. It was love for her husband, to be sure; but she had then no +children. + +Mr. Wentz gets no evidence of fairy-wives from Ireland, but a great +number out of Wales. One of them is the beautiful tale of Einion and +Olwen (p. 161) which has many points of resemblance with mine from the +Border. Einion also seems to have met the King of the Wood. Like +Andrew King he was kissed by the nymphs, but only by one of them; but +unlike him he stayed in their country for a year and a day, then went +back to his own people, and finally returned for his fairy-wife. +Taliesin was their son. No conditions seem to have been made. + +So much for fairy brides, but now for fairy grooms. I have two cases +to add to that of Quidnunc, but before giving them, let me say of his +affair that since the suggestion there seems to have come from him to +the woman, the incarnation, if such there were, must have been +voluntary. Evocation was not instrumental in it. He appeared before +her, as she had appeared before others, many others, including myself, +and his subsequent commerce with her was achieved by his own personal +force. You may say that she had been prepared to see him by belief and +desire, by belief and desire acting upon a mind greatly distressed and +probably overwrought. You may say that she saw what she ardently +desired to see. It is quite true, I cannot deny it; but I point to his +previous manifestations, and leave it there. + +Here is a tale to the purpose which I got out of Worcestershire. Two +girls, daughter and niece of a farmer, bosom friends and bed-fellows, +became involved in a love-affair and, desperate of a happy issue, +attempted a charm to win their lovers back. On All Hallow Eve, two +hours before the sun, they went into the garden, barefoot, in their +nightgowns and circled about a stone which was believed to be +bewitched.[13] They used certain words, the Lord's prayer backward or +what not, and had an apparition. A brown man came out of the bushes +and looked at them for some time. Then he came to them, paralysed as +they may have been, and peering closely into the face of one of them +gave her a flower and disappeared. That same evening they kept the +Hallow E'en with the usual play, half-earnest, half-game, and, among +other things which they did, "peascodded" the girls. The game is a +very old one, and consists in setting the victim in a chair with her +back to the door while her companions rub her down with handfuls of +pea-shucks. During this ceremony if any man enter the room he is her +lover, and she is handed over to him. This was done, then, to one of +the girls who had dared the dawn magic; and in the midst of it a brown +man, dressed in a smock-frock tied up with green ribbons, appeared, +standing in the door. He took the girl by the hand and led her out of +the house. She was seen no more that night, nor for many days +afterward, though her parents and neighbours hunted her far and wide. +By-and-by she was reported at a village some ten or twelve miles off +on the Shropshire border, where some shepherds had found her wandering +the hill. She was brought home but could give no good account of +herself, or would not. She said that she had followed her lover, +married him, and lost him. Nothing would comfort her, nothing could +keep her in the house. She was locked in, but made her way out; she +was presently sent to the lunatic asylum, but escaped from that. Then +she got away for good and all and never came back again. No trace of +her body could be found. What are you to make of a thing of the sort? +I give it for what it is worth, with this note only, that the +apparition was manifest to several persons, though not, I fancy, to +any but the girls concerned in the peascodding. + +[Footnote 13: It is said to have been the base of a Roman terminal +statue, but I have not seen it.] + +The Willow-lad's is another tale of the same kind. It was described in +1787 by the Reverend Samuel Jordan in the _Gentleman's Magazine_, if I +am not mistaken. + +The Willow-lad was an apparition which was believed to appear in a +withy-bed on the banks of the Ouse near Huntingdon. He could only be +seen at dusk, and only by women. He had a sinister reputation, and to +say of a girl that she had been to the withy-bed was a broad hint that +she was no better than she should be. Yet, according to Mr. Jordan, +the girls did go there in numbers, and to such effect that by an order +of the Town Council the place was stubbed up. You had to go alone to +the withy-bed between sunset and sunrise of a moonless night, to lay +your hand upon a certain stump and say, and in a loud voice:-- + + Willow-boy, Willow-boy, come to me soon, + After the sun and before the moon. + Hide the stars and cover my head; + Let no man see me when I be wed. + +One would like to know whether the Willow-lad's powers perished with +the withy-bed. They should not, but should have been turned to +malicious uses. There are many cases in Mr. Lawson's book of the +malefical effect upon the Dryads of cutting down the trees whose +spirit they are. And most people know Landor's idyll, or if they +don't, they should. + + * * * * * + +There are queer doings under the sun as well as under the moon. A man +may travel far without leaving his arm-chair by the fire, in countries +where no tourist-tickets obtain, and see stranger things than are +recorded by Herr Baedeker. + + The waies through which my weary steps I guide + In this delightful land of Faery + Are so exceeding spacious and wyde, + And sprinckled with such sweet variety + Of all that pleasant is to eare or eye, + That I, nigh ravisht with rare thoughts' delight, + My tedious travele doe forget thereby; + And when I gin to feele decay of might, + It strength to me supplies, and chears my dulld spright. + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lore of Proserpine, by Maurice Hewlett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LORE OF PROSERPINE *** + +***** This file should be named 18730-8.txt or 18730-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/7/3/18730/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/18730-8.zip b/18730-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e5f4680 --- /dev/null +++ b/18730-8.zip diff --git a/18730-h.zip b/18730-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5ed60e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/18730-h.zip diff --git a/18730-h/18730-h.htm b/18730-h/18730-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fac2d84 --- /dev/null +++ b/18730-h/18730-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5925 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Lore Of Proserpine, by Maurice Hewlett + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + a[name] { position:absolute; } + a:link {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:#ff0000} + table { width:60%; padding: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + .tocch { text-align: right; vertical-align: top;} + .tocpg {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} +.f1 {font-size:smaller; } +.f2 { text-align:center; font-weight:bold; font-size: large; } +.f3 { font-size:small; } +.sig { margin-left:30em; } + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .footnotes {border: solid 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: text-bottom; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 20em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 15em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lore of Proserpine, by Maurice Hewlett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Lore of Proserpine + +Author: Maurice Hewlett + +Release Date: July 1, 2006 [EBook #18730] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LORE OF PROSERPINE *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + + + + + + +<h1>LORE OF PROSERPINE</h1> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>MAURICE HEWLETT</h2> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> + <span class="i4"> "Thus go the fairy kind,</span> + <span class="i8"> Whither Fate driveth; not as we</span> + <span class="i8"> Who fight with it, and deem us free</span> + <span class="i8"> Therefore, and after pine, or strain</span> + <span class="i8"> Against our prison bars in vain;</span> + <span class="i8"> For to them Fate is Lord of Life</span> + <span class="i8"> And Death, and idle is a strife</span> + <span class="i8"> With such a master ..."</span> + +</div> +</div> + +<div class="sig"><i>Hypsipyle</i>.</div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS<br /> + NEW YORK : : : : 1913</h3> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1913, <span class="smcap">by</span></p> + +<p class="center">CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS +</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h4>TO</h4> +<h2>DESPOINA</h2> + +<h4>FROM WHOM, TO WHOM</h4> +<h4>ALL</h4> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE</h2> + + +<p>I hope nobody will ask me whether the things in this book are true, +for it will then be my humiliating duty to reply that I don't know. +They seem to be so to me writing them; they seemed to be so when they +occurred, and one of them occurred only two or three years ago. That +sort of answer satisfies me, and is the only one I can make. As I grow +older it becomes more and more difficult to distinguish one kind of +appearance from another, and to say, that is real, and again, that is +illusion. Honestly, I meet in my daily walks innumerable beings, to +all sensible signs male and female. Some of them I can touch, some +smell, some speak with, some see, some discern otherwise than by +sight. But if you cannot trust your eyes, why should you trust your +nose or your fingers? There's my difficulty in talking about reality.</p> + +<p>There's another way of getting at the truth after all. If a thing is +not sensibly true it may be morally so. If it is not phenomenally true +it may be so substantially. And it is possible that one may see +substance in the idiom, so to speak, of the senses. That, I take it, +is how the Greeks saw thunder-storms and other huge convulsions; that +is how they saw meadow, grove and stream—in terms of their own <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span>fair +humanity. They saw such natural phenomena as shadows of spiritual +conflict or of spiritual calm, and within the appearance apprehended +the truth. So it may be that I have done. Some such may be the +explanation of all fairy experience. Let it be so. It is a fact, I +believe, that there is nothing revealed in this book which will not +bear a spiritual, and a moral, interpretation; and I venture to say of +some of it that the moral implications involved are exceedingly +momentous, and timely too. I need not refer to such matters any +further. If they don't speak for themselves they will get no help from +a preface.</p> + +<p>The book assumes up to a certain point an autobiographical cast. This +is not because I deem my actual life of any interest to any one but +myself, but because things do occur to one "in time," and the +chronological sequence is as good as another, and much the most easy +of any. I had intended, but my heart failed me, to pursue experience +to the end. There was to have been a section, to be called "Despoina," +dealing with my later life. But my heart failed me. The time is not +yet, though it is coming. I don't deny that there are some things here +which I learned from the being called Despoina and could have learned +from nobody else. There are some such things, but there is not very +much, and won't be any more just yet. Some of it there will never be +for the sorry reason that our race won't bear to be told fundamental +facts about itself, still less about other orders of creation which +are <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span>sufficiently like our own to bring self-consciousness into play. +To write of the sexes in English you must either be sentimental or a +satirist. You must set the emotions to work; otherwise you must be +quiet. Now the emotions have no business with knowledge; and there's a +reason why we have no fairy lore, because we can't keep our feelings +in hand. The Greeks had a mythology, the highest form of Art, and we +have none. Why is that? Because we can neither expound without wishing +to convert the soul, nor understand without self-experiment. We don't +want to know things, we want to feel them—and are ashamed of our +need. Mythology, therefore, we English must make for ourselves as we +can; and if we are wise we shall keep it to ourselves. It is a pity, +because since we alone of created things are not self-sufficient, +anything that seems to break down the walls of being behind which we +agonise would be a comfort to us; but there's a worse thing than being +in prison, and that is quarrelling with our own nature.</p> + +<p>I shall have explained myself very badly if my reader leaves me with +the impression that I have been writing down marvels. The fact that a +thing occurs in nature takes it out of the portentous. There's nothing +either good or bad but thinking makes it so. With that I end.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + + + +<table class="f3" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td> </td><td class="tocpg f1">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr><td><a href="#PREFACE">PREFACE</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_vii">vii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><a href="#LORE_OF_PROSERPINE">THE WINDOWS</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_BOY_IN_THE_WOOD">A BOY IN THE WOOD</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><a href="#HARKNESSS_FANCY">HARKNESS'S FANCY</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_GODS_IN_THE_SCHOOLHOUSE">THE GODS IN THE SCHOOLHOUSE</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_SOUL_AT_THE_WINDOW">THE SOUL AT THE WINDOW</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><a href="#QUIDNUNC">QUIDNUNC</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_SECRET_COMMONWEALTH">THE SECRET COMMONWEALTH</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><a href="#BECKWITHS_CASE">BECKWITH'S CASE</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_FAIRY_WIFE">THE FAIRY WIFE</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><a href="#OREADS">OREADS</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_SUMMARY_CHAPTER">A SUMMARY CHAPTER</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="LORE_OF_PROSERPINE" id="LORE_OF_PROSERPINE"></a>LORE OF PROSERPINE</h2> + +<h3>THE WINDOWS</h3> +<p>You will remember that Socrates considers every soul of us to be at +least three persons. He says, in a fine figure, that we are two horses +and a charioteer. "The right-hand horse is upright and cleanly made; +he has a lofty neck and an aquiline nose; his colour is white and his +eyes dark; he is a lover of honour and modesty and temperance, and the +follower of true glory; he needs no touch of the whip, but is guided +by word and admonition only. The other is a crooked lumbering animal, +put together anyhow; he has a short thick neck; he is flat-faced and +of a dark colour, with grey eyes of blood-red complexion; the mate of +insolence and pride, shag-eared and deaf, hardly yielding to whip and +spur." I need not go on to examine with the philosopher the acts of +this pair under the whip and spur of love, because I am not going to +talk about love. For my present purpose I shall suggest another +dichotomy. I will liken the soul itself of man to a house, divided +according<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> to the modern fashion into three flats or apartments. Of +these the second floor is occupied by the landlord, who wishes to be +quiet, and is not, it seems, afraid of fire; the ground-floor by a +business man who would like to marry, but doubts if he can afford it, +goes to the city every day, looks in at his club of an afternoon, +dines out a good deal, and spends at least a month of the year at +Dieppe, Harrogate, or one of the German spas. He is a pleasant-faced +man, as I see him, neatly dressed, brushed, anointed, polished at the +extremities—for his boots vie with his hair in this particular. If he +has a fault it is that of jingling half-crowns in his trouser-pocket; +but he works hard for them, pays his rent with them, and gives one +occasionally to a nephew. That youth, at any rate, likes the cheerful +sound. He is rather fond, too, of monopolising the front of the fire +in company, and thinks more of what he is going to eat, some time +before he eats it, than a man should. But really I can't accuse him of +anything worse than such little weaknesses. The first floor is +occupied by a person of whom very little is known, who goes out +chiefly at night and is hardly ever seen during the day. Tradesmen, +and the crossing-sweeper at the corner, have caught a glimpse on rare +occasions of a white face at the window, the startled face of a queer +creature, who blinks and wrings at his nails with his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> teeth; who +peers at you, jerks and grins; who seems uncertain what to do; who +sometimes shoots out his hands as if he would drive them through the +glass: altogether a mischancy, unaccountable apparition, probably mad. +Nobody knows how long he has been here; for the landlord found him in +possession when he bought the lease, and the ground-floor, who was +here also, fancies that they came together, but can't be sure. There +he is, anyhow, and without an open scandal one doesn't like to give +him notice. A curious thing about the man is that neither landlord nor +ground-floor will admit acquaintance with him to each other, although, +if the truth were known, each of them knows something—for each of +them has been through his door; and I will answer for one of them, at +least, that he has accompanied the Undesirable upon more than one +midnight excursion, and has enjoyed himself enormously. If you could +get either of these two alone in a confidential mood you might learn +some curious particulars of their coy neighbour; and not the least +curious would be the effect of his changing the glass of the first +floor windows. It seems that he had that done directly he got into his +rooms, saying that it was impossible to see out of such windows, and +that a man must have light. Where he got his glass from, by whom it +was fitted, I can't tell you, but the effect of it is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> most +extraordinary. The only summary account I feel able to give of it at +the moment is that it transforms the world upon which it opens. You +look out upon a new earth, literally that. The trees are not trees at +all, but slim grey persons, young men, young women, who stand there +quivering with life, like a row of Caryatides—on duty, but tiptoe for +a flight, as Keats says. You see life, as it were, rippling up their +limbs; for though they appear to be clothed, their clothing is of so +thin a texture, and clings so closely that they might as well not be +clothed at all. They are eyed, they see intensely; they look at each +other so closely that you know what they would be doing. You can see +them love each other as you watch. As for the people in the street, +the real men and real women, as we say, I hardly know how to tell you +what they look like through the first floor's windows. They are +changed of everything but one thing. They occupy the places, fill the +standing-room of our neighbours and friends; there is a something +about them all by which you recognise them—a trick of the hand, a +motion of the body, a set of the head (God knows what it is, how +little and how much); but for all that—a new creature! A thing like +nothing that lives by bread! Now just look at that policeman at the +corner, for instance; not only is he stark naked—everybody is like +that—but he's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> perfectly different from the sturdy, good-humoured, +red-faced, puzzled man you and I know. He is thin, woefully thin, and +his ears are long and perpetually twitching. He pricks them up at the +least thing; or lays them suddenly back, and we see them trembling. +His eyes look all ways and sometimes nothing but the white is to be +seen. He has a tail, too, long and leathery, which is always curling +about to get hold of something. Now it will be the lamp-post, now the +square railings, now one of those breathing trees; but mostly it is +one of his own legs. Yet if you consider him carefully you will agree +with me that his tail is a more expressive remnant of the man you have +always seen there than any other part of him. You may say, and truly, +that it is the only recognisable thing left. What do you think of his +feet and hands? They startled me at first; they are so long and +narrow, so bony and pointed, covered with fine short hair which shines +like satin. That way he has of arching his feet and driving his toes +into the pavement delights me. And see, too, that his hands are +undistinguishable from feet: they are just as long and satiny. He is +fond of smoothing his face with them; he brings them both up to his +ears and works them forward like slow fans. Transformation indeed. I +defy you to recognise him for the same man—except for a faint +reminiscence about his tail.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<p>But all's of a piece. The crossing-sweeper now has shaggy legs which +end in hoofs. His way of looking at young people is very +unpleasant;—and one had always thought him such a kindly old man. The +butcher's boy—what a torso!—is walking with his arm round the waist +of the young lady in Number seven. These are lovers, you see; but it's +mostly on her side. He tilts up her chin and gives her a kiss before +he goes; and she stands looking after him with shining eyes, hoping +that he will turn round before he gets to the corner. But he doesn't.</p> + +<p>Wait, now, wait, wait—who is this lovely, straining, beating creature +darting here and there about the square, bruising herself, poor +beautiful thing, against the railings? A sylph, a caught fairy? +Surely, surely, I know somebody—is it?—It can't be. That careworn +lady? God in Heaven, is it she? Enough! Show me no more. I will show +you no more, my dear sir, if it agitates you; but I confess that I +have come to regard it as one of the most interesting spectacles in +London. The mere information—to say nothing of the amusement—which I +have derived from it would fill a volume; but if it did, I may add, I +myself should undoubtedly fill a cell in Holloway. I will therefore +spare you what I know about the Doctor's wife, and what happens to +Lieutenant-Colonel Storter when I see him through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> these windows—I +could never have believed it unless I had seen it. These things are +not done, I know; but observed in this medium they seem quite +ordinary. Lastly—for I can't go through the catalogue—I will speak +of the air as I see it from here. My dear sir, the air is alive, +thronged with life. Spirits, forms, lovely immaterial diaphanous +shapes, are weaving endless patterns over the face of the day. They +shine like salmon at a weir, or they darken the sky as redwings in the +autumn fields; they circle, shrieking as they flash, like swallows at +evening; they battle and wrangle together; or they join hands and +whirl about the square in an endless chain. Of their beauty, their +grace of form and movement, of the shifting filmy colour, hue blending +in hue, of their swiftness, their glancing eyes, their exuberant joy +or grief I cannot now speak. Beside them one man may well seem rat, +and another goat. Beside them, indeed, you look for nothing else. And +if I go on to hint that the owner of these windows is of them, though +imprisoned in my house; that he does at times join them in their +streaming flights beyond the housetops, and does at times carry with +him his half-bewildered, half-shocked and wholly delighted fellow +lodgers, I have come to the end of my tether and your credulity, and, +for the time at least, have flowered myself to death. The figure is as +good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> as Plato's though my Pegasus will never stable in his stall.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>We may believe ourselves to be two persons, at least, in one, and I +fancy that one at least of them is a constant. So far as my own pair +is concerned, either one of them has never grown up at all, or he was +born whole and in a flash, as the fairies are. Such as he was, at any +rate, when I was ten years old, such he is now when I am heavily more +than ten; and the other of us, very conscious of the flight of time +and of other things with it, is free to confess that he has little +more hold of his fellow with all this authority behind him than he had +when we commenced partnership. He has some, and thinks himself lucky, +since the bond between the pair is of such a nature as to involve a +real partnership—a partnership full of perplexity to the working +member of it, the ordinary forensic creature of senses, passions, +ambitions, and self-indulgences, the eating, sleeping, vainglorious, +assertive male of common experience—and it is not to be denied that +it has been fruitful, nor again that by some freak of fate or fortune +the house has kept a decent front to the world at large. It is still +solvent, still favourably regarded by the police. It is not, it never +will be, a mere cage of demons; its walls have not been fretted to +trans<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>parency; no passing eye can detect revelry behind its decent +stucco; no passing ear thrill to cries out of the dark. No, no. +Troubles we may have; but we keep up appearances. The heart knoweth +its own bitterness, and if it be a wise one, keepeth it to itself. I +am not going to be so foolish as to deny divergences of opinion, even +of practice, between the pair in me; but I flatter myself that I have +not allowed them to become a common nuisance, a cause of scandal, a +stumbling-block, a rock of offence, or anything of that kind. Uneasy +tenant, wayward partner as my recondite may be, he has had a +relationship with my forensic which at times has touched cordiality. +Influential he has not been, for his colleague has always had the +upper hand and been in the public eye. He may have instigated to +mischief, but has not often been allowed to complete his purpose. If I +am a respectable person it is not his fault. He seeks no man's +respect. If he has occasionally lent himself to moral ends, it has +been without enthusiasm, for he has no morals of his own, and never +did have any. On the other hand, he is by nature too indifferent to +temporal circumstances to go about to corrupt his partner. His main +desire has ever been to be let alone. Anything which tended to tighten +the bonds which held him to his co-tenant would have been a thing to +avoid. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> desires liberty, and nothing less will content him. This he +will only have by inaction, by mewing his sempiternal youth in his +cage and on his perch.</p> + +<p>But the tie uniting the pair of us is of such a nature that neither +can be uninfluenced by the other. It is just that you should hear both +sides of the case. My forensic, eating and arguing self has bullied my +other into hypocrisy over and over again. He has starved him, deprived +him of his holidays, ignored him, ridiculed him, snubbed him +mercilessly. This is severe treatment, you'll allow, and it's worse +even than it seems. For the unconscionable fellow, owing to this +coheirship which he pretends to disesteem, has been made privy to +experiences which must not only have been extraordinary to so plain +and humdrum a person, but which have been, as I happen to know, of +great importance to him, and which—to put the thing at its +highest—have lifted him, dull dog as he is, into regions where the +very dogs have wings. Out upon it! But he has been in and out with his +victim over leagues of space where not one man in ten thousand has +been privileged to fare. He has been familiar all his life with +scenes, with folk, with deeds undreamed of by thirty-nine and +three-quarters out of forty millions of people, and by that +quarter-million only known as nursery tales. Not only so, but he has +been awakened to the signifi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>cance of common things, having at hand an +interpreter, and been enabled to be precise where Wordsworth was +vague. He has known Zeus in the thunder, in the lightning beheld the +shaking of the dread Ægis. In the river source he has seen the +breasted nymph; he has seen the Oreads stream over the bare hillside. +There are men who see these things and don't believe them, others who +believe but don't see. He has both seen and believed. The painted, +figured universe has for him a new shape; whispering winds and falling +rain speak plainly to his understanding. He has seen trees as men +walking. His helot has unlocked the world behind appearance and made +him free of the Spirits of Natural Fact who abide there. If he is not +the debtor of his comrade—and he protests the debt—he should be. But +the rascal laps it all up, as a cat porridge, without so much as a wag +of the tail for Thank-you. Such are the exorbitant overlords in mortal +men, who pass for reputable persons, with a chief seat at +feasts.</p> + +<p>Such things, you may say, read incredibly, but, <i>mutatis mutandis</i>, I +believe them to be common, though unrecorded, experience. I deprecate +in advance questions designed to test the accuracy of my eyesight or +the ingenuous habit of my pen. I have already declared that the +windows of my first-floor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> lodger are of such properties that they +show you, in Xenophon's phrase, τὰ ὄντα τε ὡϛ ὄντα, και τὰ μὴ ὄντα ὡϛ +οὐκ ὄνγα. Now consider it from his side. If I were to tell +the owner of those windows that I saw the policeman at the corner, a +helmeted, blue-tunicked, chin-scratching, ponderous man, some six foot +in his boots, how would he take it? Would he not mock me? What, that +rat? Ridiculous! And what on earth could I reply? I tell you, the +whole affair is one of windows, or, sometimes, of personally-conducted +travel; and who is Guide and who Guided, is one of those nice +questions in psychology which perhaps we are not yet ready to handle. +Of the many speculations as to the nature of the subliminal Self I +have never found one to be that he may be a fairy prisoner, +occasionally on parole. But I think that not at all unlikely. May not +metempsychosis be a scourge of two worlds? If the soul of my grandam +might fitly inhabit a bird, might not a Fairy ruefully inhabit the +person of my grandam? If Fairy Godmothers, perchance, were Fairy +Grandmothers! I have some evidence to place before the reader which +may induce him to consider this hypothesis. Who can doubt, at least, +that Shelley's was not a case where the not-human was a prisoner in +the human? Who can doubt that of Blake's? And what was the result, +forensically?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> Shelley was treated as a scoundrel and Blake as a +madman. Shelley, it was said, broke the moral law, and Blake +transcended common sense; but the first, I reply, was in the guidance +of a being to whom the laws of this world and the accidents of it +meant nothing at all; and to the second a wisdom stood revealed which +to human eyes was foolishness. Windows! In either case there was a +martyrdom, and human exasperation appeased by much broken glass. Let +us not, however, condemn the wreckers of windows. Who is to judge even +them? Who is to say even of their harsh and cruel reprisals that they +were not excusable? May not they too have been ridden by some wild +spirit within them, which goaded them to their beastly work? But if +the acceptance of the doctrine of multiple personality is going to +involve me in the reconsideration of criminal jurisprudence, I must +close this essay.</p> + +<p>I will close it with the sentence of another philosopher who has +considered deeply of these questions. "It is to be observed," he says, +"that the laws of human conduct are precisely made for the conduct of +this world of Men, in which we live, breed, and pay rent. They do not +affect the Kingdom of the Dogs, nor that of the Fishes; by a parity of +reasoning they need not be supposed to obtain in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> the Kingdom of +Heaven, in which the schoolmen discovered the citizens dwelling in +nine spheres, apart from the blessed immigrants, whose privileges did +not extend so near to the Heart of the Presence. How many realms there +may be between mankind's and that ultimate object of pure desire +cannot at present be known, but it may be affirmed with confidence +that any denizen of any one of them, brought into relation with human +beings, would act, and reasonably act, in ways which to men might seem +harsh and unconscionable, without sanction or convenience. Such a +being might murder one of the ratepayers of London, compound a felony, +or enter into a conspiracy to depose the King himself, and, being +detected, very properly be put under restraint, or visited with +chastisement, either deterrent or vindictive, or both. But the true +inference from the premises would be that although duress or +banishment from the kingdom might be essential, yet punishment, +so-called, ought not to be visited upon the offender. For he or she +could not be <i>nostri juris</i>, and that which were abominable to us +might well be reasonable to him or her, and indeed a fulfilment of the +law of his being. Punishment, therefore, could not be exemplary, since +the person punished exemplified nothing to Mankind; and if vindictive, +then would be shocking, since that which is vindi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>cated, in the mind +of the victim either did not exist, or ought not. The Ancient Greek +who withheld from the sacrifice to Showery Zeus because a thunder-bolt +destroyed his hayrick, or the Egyptian who manumitted his slaves +because a God took the life of his eldest son, was neither a pious, +nor a reasonable person."</p> + +<p>There is much debatable matter in this considered opinion.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="A_BOY_IN_THE_WOOD" id="A_BOY_IN_THE_WOOD"></a>A BOY IN THE WOOD</h2> + + +<p>I had many bad qualities as a child, of which I need mention only +three. I was moody, irresolute, and hatefully reserved. Fate had +already placed me the eldest by three years of a large family. Add to +the eminence thus attained intentions which varied from hour to hour, +a will so little in accordance with desire that I had rather give up a +cherished plan than fight for it, and a secretive faculty equalled +only by the magpie, and you will not wonder when I affirm that I lived +alone in a household of a dozen friendly persons. As a set-off and +consolation to myself I had very strongly the power of impersonation. +I could be within my own little entity a dozen different people in a +day, and live a life thronged with these companions or rivals; and yet +this set me more solitary than ever, for I could never appear in any +one of my characters to anybody else. But alone and apart, what worlds +I inhabited! Worlds of fact and worlds of fiction. At nine years old I +knew Nelson's ardour and Wellesley's phlegm; I had Napoleon's egotism, +Galahad's purity, Lance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>lot's passion, Tristram's melancholy. I +reasoned like Socrates and made Phædo weep; I persuaded like Saint +Paul and saw the throng on Mars' Hill sway to my words. I was by turns +Don Juan and Don Quixote, Tom Jones and Mr. Allworthy, Hamlet and his +uncle, young Shandy and his. You will gather that I was a reader. I +was, and the people of my books stepped out of their pages and +inhabited me. Or, to change the figure, I found in every book an open +door, and went in and dwelt in its world. Thus I lived a thronged and +busy life, a secret life, full of terror, triumph, wonder, frantic +enterprise, a noble and gallant figure among my peers, while to my +parents, brothers and sisters I was an incalculable, fitful creature, +often lethargic and often in the sulks. They saw me mooning in +idleness and were revolted; or I walked dully the way I was bid and +they despaired of my parts. I could not explain myself to them, still +less justify, having that miserable veil of reserve close over my +mouth, like a yashmak. To my father I could not speak, to my mother I +did not; the others, being my juniors all, hardly existed. Who is to +declare the motives of a child's mind? What was the nature of this +reticence? Was it that my real habit was reverie? Was it, as I +suspect, that constitutional timidity made me diffident? I was a +coward, I am very sure, for I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> was always highly imaginative. Was it, +finally, that I was dimly conscious of matters which I despaired of +putting clearly? Who can say? And who can tell me now whether I was +cursed or blessed? Certainly, if it had been possible to any person my +senior to share with me my daily adventures, I might have conquered +the cowardice from which I suffered such terrible reverses. But it was +not. I was the eldest of a large family, and apparently the easiest to +deal with of any of it. I was what they call a tractable child, being, +in fact, too little interested in the world as it was to resent any +duties cast upon me. It was not so with the others. They were +high-spirited little creatures, as often in mischief as not, and +demanded much more pains then I ever did. What they demanded they got, +what I did not demand I got not: "Lo, here is alle! What shold I more +seye?"</p> + +<p>How it was that, taking no interest in my actual surroundings, I +became aware of unusual things behind them I cannot understand. It is +very difficult to differentiate between what I imagined and what I +actually perceived. It was a favourite string of my poor father's +plaintive lyre that I had no eyes. He was a great walker, a poet, and +a student of nature. Every Sunday of his life he took me and my +brother for a long tramp over the country, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> intense spiritual +fatigue of which exercise I should never be able to describe. I have a +sinking of the heart, even now, when I recall our setting out. +Intolerable labour! I saw nothing and said nothing. I did nothing but +plug one dull foot after the other. I felt like some chained slave +going to the hulks, and can well imagine that my companions must have +been very much aware of it. My brother, whose nature was much happier +than mine, who dreamed much less and observed much more, was the life +of these woeful excursions. Without him I don't think that my father +could have endured them. At any rate, he never did. I amazed, +irritated, and confounded him at most times, but in nothing more than +my apathy to what enchanted him.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> The birds, the flowers, the trees, +the waters did not exist for me in my youth. The world for me was +uninhabited, a great empty cage. People passed us, or stood at their +doorways watching us, but I never saw them. If by chance I descried +somebody coming whom it would be necessary to salute, or to whom I +might have to speak, I turned aside to avoid them. I was not only shy +to a fault, as a diffident child must be, but the world of sense +either did not exist for me or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>was thrust upon me to my discomfort. +And yet all the while, as I moved or sat, I was surrounded by a stream +of being, of infinite constituents, aware of them to this extent that +I could converse with them without sight or speech. I knew they were +there, I knew them singing, whispering, screaming. They filled my +understanding not my senses. I did not see them but I felt them. I +knew not what they said or sang, but had always the general sense of +their thronging neighbourhood.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> And me also when I was enabled at a later day to perceive +them. I am thankful to remember and record for my own comfort that +that day came not too late for my enchantment to overtake his and +proceed in company.</p></div></div> + +<p>I enlarge upon this because I think it justifies me in adding that, +observing so little, what I did observe with my bodily eyes must +almost certainly have been observable. But now let the reader judge.</p> + +<p>The first time I ever saw a creature which was really outside ordinary +experience was in the late autumn of my twelfth year. My brother, next +in age to me, was nine, my eldest sister eight. We three had been out +walking with our mother, and were now returning at dusk to our tea +through a wood which covered the top of a chalk down. I remember +vividly the scene. The carpet of drenched leaves under bare branches, +the thin spear-like shafts of the underwood, the grey lights between, +the pale frosty sky overhead with the sickle moon low down in it. I +remember, too, various sensations,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> such as the sudden chill which +affected me as the crimson globe of the sun disappeared; and again +how, when we emerged from the wood, I was enheartened by the sight of +the village shrouded under chimney smoke and by the one or two +twinkling lights dotted here and there about the dim wolds.</p> + +<p>In the wood it was already twilight and very damp. Perhaps I had been +tired, more likely bored—as I always was when I was not being +somebody else. I remember that I had found the path interminable. I +had been silent, as I mostly was, while the other two had chattered +and played about our mother; and when presently I stayed behind for a +purpose I remember that I made no effort to catch them up. I knew the +way perfectly, of course, and had no fear of the dark. Oddly enough I +had no fear of that. I was far less imaginative in the night than in +the day. Besides that, by the time I was ready to go after them I had +much else to think of.</p> + +<p>I must have been looking at him for some time before I made out that +he was there. So you may peer into a thicket a hundred times and see +nothing, and then a trick of the light or a flutter of the mood and +you see creatures where you had been sure was nothing. As children +will, I had stayed longer than I need, looking and wondering into the +wood, not observing but yet absorbing the effects of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> lights and +shades. The trees were sapling chestnuts if I am not mistaken, Spanish +chestnuts, and used for hop-poles in those parts. Their leaves decay +gradually, the fleshy part, so to speak, dropping away from the +articulation till at last bleached skeleton leaves remain and flicker +at every sigh of the wind. The ground was densely carpeted with other +leaves in the same state, or about to become so. The silver grey was +cross-hatched by the purple lines of the serried stems, and as the +view receded this dipped into blue and there lost itself. It was very +quiet—a windless fall of the light. To-day I should find it most +beautiful; and even then, I suspect, I felt its beauty without knowing +it to be so. Looking into it all without realising it, I presently and +gradually did realise something else: a shape, a creature, a thing of +form and pressure—not a wraith, not, I am quite certain, a trick of +the senses.</p> + +<p>It was under a clump of the chestnut stems, kneeling and sitting on +its heels, and it was watching me with the bright, quick eyes of a +mouse. If I were to say that my first thought was of some peering and +waiting animal, I should go on to qualify the thought by reference to +the creature's eyes. They were eyes which, like all animals', could +only express one thing at a time. They expressed now attention, the +closest: not fear, not surprise, not apprehension of anything<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> that I +might be meditating against their peace, but simply minute attention. +The absence of fear, no doubt, marked their owner off from the animals +of common acquaintance; but the fact that they did not at the same +time express the being itself showed him to be different from our +human breed. For whatever else the human pair of eyes may reveal, it +reveals the looker.</p> + +<p>The eyes of this creature revealed nothing of itself except that it +was watching me narrowly. I could not even be sure of its sex, though +I believe it to have been a male, and shall hereafter treat of it as +such. I could see that he was young; I thought about my own age. He +was very pale, without being at all sickly—indeed, health and vigour +and extreme vivacity were implicit in every line and expressed in +every act; he was clear-skinned, but almost colourless. The shadow +under his chin, I remember, was bluish. His eyes were round, when not +narrowed by that closeness of his scrutiny of me, and though probably +brown, showed to be all black, with pupil indistinguishable from iris. +The effect upon me was of black, vivid black, unintelligent +eyes—which see intensely but cannot translate. His hair was dense and +rather long. It covered his ears and touched his shoulders. It was +pushed from his forehead sideways in a thick, in a solid fold, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> if +it had been the corner of a frieze cape thrown back. It was dark hair, +but not black; his neck was very thin. I don't know how he was +dressed—I never noticed such things; but in colour he must have been +inconspicuous, since I had been looking at him for a good time without +seeing him at all. A sleeveless tunic, I think, which may have been +brown, or grey, or silver-white. I don't know. But his knees were +bare—that I remember; and his arms were bare from the shoulder.</p> + +<p>I standing, he squatting on his heels, the pair of us looked full at +one another. I was not frightened, no more was he. I was excited, and +full of interest; so, I think, was he. My heart beat double time. Then +I saw, with a curious excitement, that between his knees he held a +rabbit, and that with his left hand he had it by the throat. Now, what +is extraordinary to me about this discovery is that there was nothing +shocking in it.</p> + +<p>I saw the rabbit's wild and panic-blown eye, I saw the bright white +rim of it, and recognised its little added terror of me even in the +midst of its anguish. That must have been the conventional fright of a +beast of chase, an instinct to fear rather than an emotion; for of +emotions the poor thing must have been having its fill. It was not +till I saw its mouth horribly open, its lips curled back to show<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> its +shelving teeth that I could have guessed at what it was suffering. But +gradually I apprehended what was being done. Its captor was squeezing +its throat. I saw what I had never seen before, and have never seen +since, I saw its tongue like a pale pink petal of a flower dart out as +the pressure drove it. Revolting sight as that would have been to me, +witnessed in the world, here, in this dark wood, in this outland +presence, it was nothing but curious. Now, as I watched and wondered, +the being, following my eyes' direction, looked down at the huddled +thing between his thighs, and just as children squeeze a snap-dragon +flower to make it open and shut its mouth, so precisely did he, +pressing or releasing the windpipe, cause that poor beast to throw +back its lips and dart its dry tongue. He did this many times while he +watched it; and when he looked up at me again, and while he continued +to look at me, I saw that his cruel fingers, as by habit, continued +the torture, and that in some way he derived pleasure from the +performance—as if it gratified him to be sure that effect was +following on cause inevitably.</p> + +<p>I have never, I believe, been cruel to an animal in my life. I hated +cruelty then as I hate it now. I have always shirked the sight of +anything in pain from my childhood onwards. Yet the fact is that not +only did I nothing to interfere in what I saw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> going on, but that I +was deeply interested and absorbed in it. I can only explain that to +myself now, by supposing that I knew then, that the creature in front +of me was not of my own kind, and was not, in fact, outraging any law +of its own being. Is not that possible? May I not have collected +unawares so much out of created nature? I am unable to say: all I am +clear about is that here was a thing in the semblance of a boy doing +what I had never observed a boy do, and what if I ever had observed a +boy do, would have flung me into a transport of rage and grief. Here, +therefore, was a thing in the semblance of a boy who was no boy at +all. So much must have been as certain to me then as it is +indisputable now.</p> + +<p>One doesn't, at that age, reason things out; one knows them, and is +dumb, though unconvinced, before powerful syllogisms to the contrary. +All children are so, confronted by strange phenomena. And yet I had +facts to go upon if, child as I was, I had been capable of inference. +I need only mention one. If this creature had been human, upon seeing +that I was conscious of its behaviour to the rabbit, it would either +have stopped the moment it perceived that I did not approve or was not +amused, or it would have continued deliberately out of bravado. But it +neither stopped nor hardily continued. It watched its experiment with +interest for a little,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> then, finding me more interesting, did not +discontinue it, but ceased to watch it. He went on with it +mechanically, dreamingly, as if to the excitation of some other sense +than sight, that of feeling, for instance. He went on lasciviously, +for the sake of the pleasure so to be had. In other words, being +without self-consciousness and ignorant of shame, he must have been +non-human.</p> + +<p>After all, too, it must be owned that I cannot have been confronted by +the appearance for more than a few minutes. Allow me three to have +been spent before I was aware of him, three more will be the outside I +can have passed gazing at him. But I speak of "minutes," of course, +referring to my ostensible self, that inert, apathetic child who +followed its mother, that purblind creature through whose muddy lenses +the pent immortal had been forced to see his familiar in the wood, and +perchance to dress in form and body what, for him, needed neither to +be visible. It was this outward self which was now driven by +circumstances to resume command—the command which for "three minutes" +by his reckoning he had relinquished. Both of us, no doubt, had been +much longer there had we not been interrupted. A woodman, homing from +his work, came heavily up the path, and like a guilty detected rogue I +turned to run and took my incorruptible with me. Not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> until I had +passed the man did I think to look back. The partner of my secret was +not then to be seen. Out of sight out of mind is the way of children. +Out of mind, then, withdrew my incorruptible. I hurried on, ran, and +overtook my party half-way down the bare hillside. I still remember +the feeling of relief with which I swept into the light, felt the cold +air on my cheeks, and saw the intimacy of the village open out below +me. I am almost sure that my eyes held tears at the assurance of the +sweet, familiar things which I knew and could love. There, literally, +were my own people: that which I had left behind must be unlawful +because it was so strange. In the warmth and plenty of the lighted +house, by the schoolroom table, before the cosily covered teapot, amid +the high talk, the hot toast and the jam, my experience in the dusky +wood seemed unreal, lawless, almost too terrible to be +remembered—never, never to be named. It haunted me for many days, and +gave rise to curious wonderings now and then. As I passed the patient, +humble beasts of common experience—a carter's team nodding, jingling +its brasses, a donkey, patient, humble, hobbled in a paddock, dogs +sniffing each other, a cat tucked into a cottage window, I mused +doubtfully and often whether we had touched the threshold of the heart +of their mystery. But for the most part, being con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>stitutionally +timid, I was resolute to put the experience out of mind. When next I +chanced to go through the wood there is no doubt I peered askance to +right and left among the trees; but I took good care not to desert my +companions. That which I had seen was unaccountable, therefore out of +bounds. But though I never saw him there again I have never forgotten +him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HARKNESSS_FANCY" id="HARKNESSS_FANCY"></a>HARKNESS'S FANCY</h2> + + +<p>I may have been a precocious child, but I cannot tell within a year or +two how soon it was that I attained manhood. There must have been a +moment of time when I clothed myself in skins, like Adam; when I knew +what this world calls good and evil—by which this world means nothing +more nor less than men and women, and chiefly women, I think. Savage +peoples initiate their young and teach them the taboos of society by +stripes. We allow our issue to gash themselves. By stripes, then, upon +my young flesh, I scored up this lesson for myself. Certain things +were never to be spoken of, certain things never to be looked at in +certain ways, certain things never to be done consciously, or for the +pleasure to be got out of them. One stepped out of childish +conventions into mannish conventions, and did so, certainly, without +any instruction from outside. I remember, for instance, that, as +children, it was a rigid part of our belief that our father was the +handsomest man in the world—handsome was the word. In the same way +our mother was by prerogative the most beautiful woman. If some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> hero +flashed upon our scene—Garibaldi, Lancelot of the Lake, or +another—the greatest praise we could possibly have given him for +beauty, excellence, courage, or manly worth would have put him second +to our father. So also Helen of Sparta and Beatrice of Florence gave +way. That was the law of the nursery, rigid and never to be questioned +until unconsciously I grew out of it, and becoming a man, put upon me +the panoply of manly eyes. I now accepted it that to kiss my sister +was nothing, but that to kiss her friend would be very wicked. I +discovered that there were two ways of looking at a young woman, and +two ways of thinking about her. I discovered that it was lawful to +have some kinds of appetite, and to take pleasure in food, exercise, +sleep, warmth, cold water, hot water, the smell of flowers, and quite +unlawful so much as to think of, or to admit to myself the existence +of other kinds of appetite. I discovered, in fact, that love was a +shameful thing, that if one was in love one concealed it from the +world, and, above all the world, from the object of one's love. The +conviction was probably instinctive, for one is not the descendant of +puritans for nothing; but the discovery of it is another matter. +Attendance at school and the continuous reading of romance were partly +responsible for that; physical development clinched the affair,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> I was +in all respects mature at thirteen, though my courage (to use the word +in Chaucer's sense) was not equal to my ability. I had more than usual +diffidence against me, more than usual reserve; and +self-consciousness, from which I have only lately escaped, grew upon +me hand in hand with experience.</p> + +<p>But being now become a day-scholar at the Grammar School, and thrown +whether I would or not among other boys of my own age, I sank my +recondite self deeply under the folds of my quickened senses. I became +aware of a world which was not his world at all. I watched, I heard, I +judged, I studied intently my comrades; and while in secret I shared +their own hardy lives, I was more than content to appear a cipher +among them. I had no friends and made none. All my comradeship with my +school-mates took place in my head, for however salient in mood or +inclination I may have been I was a laggard in action. In company I +was lower than the least of them; in my solitude, at their head I +captured the universe. Daily, to and fro, for two or three years I +journeyed between my home and this school, with a couple of two-mile +walks and a couple of train journeys to be got through in all weathers +and all conditions of light. I saw little or nothing of my +school-fellows out of hours, and lived all my play-time, if you can so +call it, intensely alone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> with the people of my imagination—to whose +number I could now add gleanings from the Grammar School.</p> + +<p>I don't claim objective reality for any of these; I am sure that they +were of my own making. Though unseen beings throng round us all, +though as a child I had been conscious of them, though I had actually +seen one, in these first school years of mine the machinery I had for +seeing the usually unseen was eclipsed; my recondite self was fast in +his <i>cachot</i>—and I didn't know that he was there! But one may imagine +fairies enough out of one's reading, and going beyond that, using it +as a spring-board, advance in the work of creation from realising to +begetting. So it was with me. The <i>Faerie Queen</i> was as familiar as +the Latin Primer ought to have been. I had much of Mallory by heart—a +book full of magic. Forth of his pages stepped men-at-arms and damsels +the moment I was alone, and held me company for as long as I would. +The persons of Homer's music came next to them. I was Hector and held +Andromache to my heart. I kissed her farewell when I went forth to +school, and hurried home at night from the station, impatient for her +arms. I was never Paris, and had only awe of Helen. Even then I dimly +guessed her divinity, that godhead which the supremest beauty really +is. But I was often Odys<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>seus the much-enduring, and very well +acquainted with the wiles of Calypso. Next in power of enchantment +came certainly Don Quixote, in whose lank bones I was often encased. +Dulcinea's charm was very real to me. I revelled in her honeyed name. +I was Don Juan too, and I was Tom Jones; but my most natural +impersonation in those years was Tristram. The luxury of that +champion's sorrows had a swooning sweetness of their own of which I +never tired. Iseult meant nothing. I cared nothing for her. I was +enamoured of the hero, and saw myself drenched in his passion. Like +Narcissus in the fable, I loved myself, and saw myself, in Tristram's +form, the most beautiful and the most beloved of beings.</p> + +<p>Chivalry and Romance chained me at that time and not the supernatural. +The fairy adventures of the heroes of my love swept by me untouched. +Morgan le Fay, Britomart, Vivien, Nimue, Merlin did not convince me; +they were picturesque conventions whose decorative quality I felt, +while so far as I was concerned they were garniture or apparatus. And +yet the fruitful meadows through which I took my daily way were as +forests to me; the grass-stems spired up to my fired fancy like great +trees. Among them I used to minish myself to the size of an ant and +become a pioneer hewing out a pathway through virgin thickets. I had +my ears alert for the sound<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> of a horn, of a galloping horse, of the +Questing Beast and hounds in full cry. But I never looked to encounter +a fairy in these most fairy solitudes. Beleaguered ladies, +knights-errant, dwarfs, churls, fiends of hell, leaping like flames +out of pits in the ground: all these, but no fairies. It's very odd +that having seen the reality and devoured the fictitious, I should +have had zest for neither, but so it is.</p> + +<p>As for my school-mates, though I had very little to say to them, or +they to me, I used to watch them very closely, and, as I have said, +came to weave them into my dreams. Some figured as heroes, some as +magnanimous allies, some as malignant enemies, some who struck me as +beautiful received of me the kind of idolatry, the insensate +self-surrender which creatures of my sort have always offered up to +beauty of any sort. I remember T——e, a very shapely and +distinguished youth. I worshipped him as a god, and have seen him +since—alas! I remember B—— also, a tall, lean, loose-limbed young +man. He was a great cricketer, a good-natured, sleepy giant, perfectly +stupid (I am sure) but with marks of breed about him which I could not +possibly mistake. Him, too, I enthroned upon my temple-frieze; he +would have figured there as Meleager had I been a few years older. As +it was, he rode a blazoned charger, all black, and feutred his lance +with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> Knights of King Arthur's court. Then there was H——n, a +good-looking, good-natured boy, and T——r, another. Many and many a +day did they ride forth with me adventuring—that is, spiritually they +did so; physically speaking, I had no scot or lot with them. We were +in plate armour, visored and beplumed. We slung our storied shields +behind us; we had our spears at rest; we laughed, told tales, sang as +we went through the glades of the forest, down the rutted +charcoal-burner's track, and came to the black mere, where there lay a +barge with oars among the reeds. I can see, now, H——n throw up his +head, bared to the sky and slanting sun. He had thick and dark curly +hair and a very white neck. His name of chivalry was Sagramor. T——r +was of stouter build and less salient humour. He was Bors, a brother +of Lancelot's. I, who was moody, here as in waking life, was Tristram, +more often Tramtris.</p> + +<p>Of other more sinister figures I remember two. R——s, who bullied me +until I was provoked at last into facing him; a greedy, pale, +lecherous boy, graceless, a liar, but extremely clever. I had a horror +of him which endures now. If he, as I have, had a dweller in the deeps +of him, his must have been a satyr. I cannot doubt it now. Disastrous +ally for mortal man! Vice sat upon his face like a grease;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> vice made +his fingers quick. He had a lickorous tongue and a taste for sweet +things which even then made me sick. So repulsive was he to me, so +impressed upon my fancy, that it was curious he did not haunt my inner +life. But I never met him there. No shape of his ever encountered me +in the wilds and solitary places. In the manifest world he afflicted +me to an extent which the rogue-fairy in the wood could never have +approached. Perhaps it was that all my being was forearmed against +him, and that I fought him off. At any rate he never trespassed in my +preserves.</p> + +<p>The other was R——d, a bleared and diseased creature, a thing of pity +and terror to the wholesome, one of those outcasts of the world which +every school has to know and reckon with. A furtive, nail-bitten, +pick-nose wretch with an unholy hunger for ink, earth-worms and the +like. What terrible tenant do the likes of these carry about with +them! He, too, haunted me, but not fearfully; but he, too, I now +understand too well, was haunted and ridden to doom. I pitied him, +tried to be kind to him, tried to treat him as the human thing which +in some sort he was. I discovered that when he was interested he +forgot his loathsome cravings, and became almost lovable. I went home +with him once, to a mean <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>house in ——. He took me into the backyard +and showed me his treasury—half a dozen rabbits, as many guinea-pigs, +and a raven with a bald head. He was all kindness to these prisoners, +fondled them with hands and voice, spoke a kind of inarticulate baby +language to them, and gave them pet names. He forgot his misery, his +poverty—I remember that he never had a handkerchief and always wanted +one, that his jacket-sleeves were near his elbow, and that his wrist +bones were red and broken. But now there shone a clear light in his +eye; he could face the world as he spoke to me of the habits of his +friends. We got upon some sort of terms by these means, and I always +had a kind of affection for poor R——d. In a sense we were both +outcasts, and might have warmed the world for each other. If I had not +been so entirely absorbed in my private life as to grudge any moment +of it unnecessarily spent I should have asked him home. But boys are +exorbitant in their own affairs, and I had no time to spare him.</p> + +<p>I was a year at —— before I got so far with any schoolfellow of mine +there; but just about the time of my visit to R——d I fell in with +another boy, called Harkness, who, for some reason of his own, desired +my closer acquaintance and got as much of it as I was able to give to +anybody, and a good deal more than he deserved or I was the better of. +He, too, was a day-boy, whose people lived in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> suburb of the town +which lay upon my road. We scraped acquaintance by occasionally +travelling together so much of the way as he had to traverse; from +this point onward all the advances were his. I had no liking for him, +and, in fact, some of his customs shocked me. But he was older than I, +very friendly, and very interesting. He evidently liked me; he asked +me to tea with him; he used to wait for me, going and returning. I had +no means of refusing his acquaintance, and did not; but I got no good +out of him.</p> + +<p>As he was older, so he was much more competent. Not so much vicious as +curious and enterprising, he knew a great many things which I only +guessed at, and could do much—or said that he could—which I only +dreamed about. He put a good deal of heart into my instruction, and +left me finally with my lesson learned. I never saw nor heard of him +after I left the school. We did not correspond, and he left no mark +upon me of any kind. The lesson learned, I used the knowledge +certainly; but it did not take me into the region which he knew best. +His grove of philosophy was close to the school, in K—— Park, which +is a fine enclosure of forest trees, glades, brake-fern and deer. +Here, in complete solitude, for we never saw a soul, my sentimental +education was begun by this self-appointed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> professor. As I remember, +he was a good-looking lad enough, with a round and merry face, high +colour, bright eyes, a moist and laughing mouth. Had he known the way +in he would have been at home in the Garden of Priapus, where perhaps +he is now. He was hardy in address, a ready speaker, rather eloquent +upon the theme that he loved, and I dare say he may have been as +fortunate as he said, or very nearly. Certainly what he had to tell me +of love and women opened my understanding. I believe that I envied him +his ease of attainment more than what he said he had attained. I might +have been stimulated by his adventures to be adventurous on my own +account, but I never was, neither at that time nor at any other. I am +quite certain that never in my life have I gone forth conquering and +to conquer in affairs of the heart. You need to be a Casanova—which +Harkness was in his little way—and I have had no aptitude for the +part. But as I said just now I absorbed his teachings and made use of +them. So far as he gave me food for reflection I ate it, and +assimilated it in my own manner. Neither by him nor by any person far +more considerable than himself has my imagination been moved in the +direction of the mover of it. Let great poet, great musician, great +painter stir me ever so deeply, I have never been able to follow him +an inch. I was excited by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> pictures to see new pictures of my own, by +poems to make poems—of my own, not of theirs. In these, no doubt, +were elements of theirs; there was a borrowed something, a quality, an +accent, a spirit of attack. But the forms were mine, and the setting +always so. All my life I have used other men's art and wisdom as a +spring-board. I suppose every poet can say the same. This was to be +the use to me of the lessons of the precocious, affectionate, and +philoprogenitive Harkness.</p> + +<p>I remember very well one golden summer evening when he and I lay +talking under a great oak—he expounding and I plucking at the grass +as I listened, or let my mind go free—how, quite suddenly, the mesh +he was weaving about my groping mind parted in the midst and showed me +for an appreciable moment a possibility of something—it was no +more—which he could never have seen.</p> + +<p>From the dense shade in which we lay there stretched out an avenue of +timber trees, whereunder the bracken, breast high, had been cut to +make a ride. Upon this bracken, and upon this smooth channel in the +midst the late sun streamed toward us, a soft wash of gold. Behind all +this the sky, pale to whiteness immediately overhead, deepened to the +splendid orange of the sunset. Each tree cast his shadow upon his +neighbour, so that only the topmost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> branches burned in the light. +Over and above us floated the drowsy hum of the insect world; rarely +we heard the moaning of a wood-dove, more rarely still the stirring of +deer hidden in the thicket shade. This was a magical evening, primed +with wonders, in the glamour of which Master Harkness could find +nothing better for him to rehearse than the progress of his amours +with his mother's housemaid. Yet something of the evening glow, +something of the opulence of summer smouldered in his words. He +painted his mistress with the colour of the sunset, he borrowed of it +burnt gold to deck her clay. He hymned the whiteness of her neck, her +slender waist, her whispers, the kisses of her mouth. The scamp was +luxuriating in his own imaginings or reminiscences, much less of a +lover and far more of a rhapsodist than he suspected. As such his pæan +of precocious love stirred my senses and fired my imagination, but not +in the direction of his own. For the glow which he cast upon his +affair was a borrowed one. He had dipped without knowing into the +languid glory of the evening, which like a pool of wealth lay ready to +my hand also. I gave him faint attention from the first. After he had +started my thoughts he might sing rapture after rapture of his young +and ardent sense. For me the spirit of a world not his whispered, "<i>A +te convien tenere altro viaggio</i>," and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> little as I knew it, in my +vague exploration of that scene of beauty, of those scarcely stirring, +stilly burning trees, of that shimmering-fronded fern, of that misty +splendour, I was hunting for the soul of it all, for the informing +spirit of it all. Harkness's erotics gave ardour to my search, but no +clew. I lost him, left him behind, and never found him again. He fell +into the Garden of Priapus, I doubt. As for me, I believed that I was +now looking upon a Dryad. I was looking certainly at a spirit +informed. A being, irradiate and quivering with life and joy of life, +stood dipt to the breast in the brake; stood so, bathing in the light; +stood so, preening herself like a pigeon on the roof-edge, and saw me +and took no heed.</p> + +<p>She had appeared, or had been manifest to me, quite suddenly. At one +moment I saw the avenue of lit green, at another she was dipt in it. I +could describe her now, at this distance of time—a radiant young +female thing, fiercely favoured, smiling with a fierce joy, with a +gleam of fierce light in her narrowed eyes. Upon her body and face was +the hue of the sun's red beam; her hair, loose and fanned out behind +her head, was of the colour of natural silk, but diaphanous as well as +burnished, so that while the surfaces glittered like spun glass the +deeps of it were translucent and showed the fire behind.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> Her garment +was thin and grey, and it clung to her like a bark, seemed to grow +upon her as a creeping stone-weed grows. Harkness would have admired +the audacity of her shape, as I did; but I found nothing provocative +in it. As well might a boy have enamoured himself of a slim tree as of +that unearthly shaft of beauty.</p> + +<p>I said that she preened herself; the word is inexact. She rather stood +bathing in the light, motionless but for the lifting of her face into +it that she might dip, or for the bending of her head that the warmth +behind her might strike upon the nape of her neck. Those were all her +movements, slowly rehearsed, and again and again rehearsed. With each +of them she thrilled anew; she thrilled and glowed responsive to the +play of the light. I don't know whether she saw me, though it seemed +to me that our looks had encountered. If her eyes had taken me in I +should have known it, I think; and if I had known it I should have +quailed and looked at her no more. So shamefaced was I, so +self-conscious, that I can be positive about that; for far from +avoiding her I watched her intently, studied her in all her parts, and +found out some curious things.</p> + +<p>Looking at her beside the oaks, for instance, whence she must have +emanated, I could judge why<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> it was that I had not seen her come out. +Her colouring was precisely that of her background. Her garment, smock +or frock or vest as you will, was grey-green like the oak stems, her +whites were those of the sky-gleams, her roses those of the sun's +rays. The maze of her hair could hardly be told from the photosphere. +I tested this simply and summarily. Shutting my eyes for a second, +when I opened them she was gone. Shutting them again and opening, +there she was, sunning herself, breathing deep and long, watching her +own beauties as the light played with them. I tried this many times +and it did not fail me. I could, with her assistance, bring her upon +my retina or take her off it, as if I had worked a shutter across my +eyes. But as I watched her so I got very excited. Her business was so +mysterious, her pleasure in it so absorbing; she was visible and yet +secret; I was visible, and yet she could be ignorant of it. I got the +same throbbing sort of interest out of her as many and many a time I +have got since out of watching other wild creatures at their affairs, +crouching hidden where they could not discern me by any of their +senses. Few things enthral me more than that—and here I had my first +taste of it. I remember that my heart beat, I remember that I +trembled. Nothing could have torn me from the spot but what precisely +did, an alien inter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>vention. The besotted Harkness stopped short in +his recital and asked me what I was staring at.</p> + +<p>That was the end of it. I had rather have died than tell him. Perhaps +I was afraid of his mockery, perhaps I dared not risk his unbelief, +perhaps I felt ashamed that I had been prying, perhaps I grudged him +the sight of her moulded beauty and keen wild face. "What am I staring +at? Why, nothing," I said. I got up and put the strap of my school +satchel over my head. I never looked for her again before I walked +away. Whether she left when I left, whether she was really there or a +projection of my mind, whether my inner self, my prisoner, had seen +her, or my schoolboy self through his agency, whether it was a trick +of the senses, a dream, or the like I can't tell you. I only know that +I have now recalled exactly what I seemed to see, and that I have seen +her since—her or her co-mate—once or twice.</p> + +<p>I can account for her now easily enough. I can assure myself that she +was really there, that she, or the like of her, pervades, haunts, +indwells all such places; but it seems that there must be a right +relation between the seer and the object before the unseen can become +the seen. Put it like this, that form is a necessary convention of our +being, a mode of consciousness just as space is, just as time, just +as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> rhythm are; then it is clear enough that the spirits of natural +fact must take on form and sensible body before we can apprehend them. +They take on such form for us or such body through our means; that is +what I mean by a right relation between them and ourselves. Now some +persons have the faculty of discerning spirits, that is, of clothing +them in bodily form, and others have not; but of those who have it all +do not discern them in the same form, or clothe them in the same body. +The form will be rhythmical to some, to other some audible, to others +yet again odorous, "aromatic pain," or bliss. These modes are no +matter, they are accidents of our state. They cause the form to be +relative, just as the conception of God is; but the substance is +constant. I have seen innumerable spirits, but always in bodily form. +I have never perceived them by means of any other sense, such as +hearing, though sight has occasionally been assisted by hearing. If +during an orchestral symphony you look steadily enough at one musician +or another you can always hear his instrument above the rest and +follow his part in the symphony. In the same way when I look at fairy +throngs I can hear them sing. If I single out one of them for +observation I hear him or her sing—not words, never words; they have +none. I saw once, like a driven cloud, the spirits of the North-west<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +wind sweep down the sky over the bare ridge of a chalk down, winged +and shrouded, eager creatures, embattled like a host. They were grey +and dun-coloured, pale in the face. Their hair swept forward, not +back; for it seemed as if the wind in gusts went faster than +themselves, and was driving them faster than they could go. Another +might well have heard these beings like a terrible, rushing music, as +cries of havoc or desolation, wild peals of laughter, fury and +exultation. But to me they were inaudible. I heard the volleying of +the wind, but them I saw. So in the still ecstasy of that Dryad +bathing in light I saw, beyond doubt, what the Greeks called by that +name, what some of them saw; and I saw it in their mode, although at +the time of seeing I knew nothing of them or their modes, because it +happened to be also my mode. But so far I did not more than see her, +for though I haunted the place where she had been she never came there +again, nor never showed herself. It became to me sacred ground, where +with awed breath I could say, "Here indeed she stood and bathed +herself. Here I really saw her, and she me;" and I encompassed it with +a fantastic cult of my own invention. It may have been very comic, or +very foolish, but I don't myself think it was either, because it was +so sincere, and because the impulse to do it came so naturally. I used +to bare my head;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> I made a point of saving some of my luncheon (which +I took with me to school) that I might leave it there. It was real +sacrifice that, because I had a fine appetite, and it was pure +worship. In my solitary hours, which were many, I walked with her of +course, talked and played with her. But that was another thing, +imagination, or fancy, and I don't remember anything of what we said +or did. It needs to be carefully distinguished from the first +apparition with which imagination, having nothing whatever to proceed +upon, had nothing whatever to do. One thing, however, I do remember, +that our relations were entirely sexless; and, as I write, another +comes into mind. I saw no affinity between her and the creature of my +first discovery. It never occurred to me to connect the two either +positively, as being inhabitants of a world of their own, or +negatively, as not being of my world. I was not a reflective boy, but +my mind proceeded upon flashes, by leaps of intuition. When I was +moved I could conceive anything, everything; when I was unmoved I was +as dull as a clod. It was idle to tell me to think. I could only think +when I was moved from within to think. That made me the despair of my +father and the vessel of my schoolmaster's wrath. So here I saw no +relationship whatsoever between the two appearances. Now, of course, I +do. I see now that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> both were fairies, informed spirits of certain +times or places. For time has a spirit as well as space. But more of +this in due season. I am not synthesising now but recording. One had +been merely curious, the other for a time enthralled me. The first had +been made when I was too young to be interested. The second found me +more prepared, and seeded in my brain for many a day. Gradually, +however, it too faded as fancy began to develop within me. I took to +writing, I began to fall in love; and at fifteen I went to a +boarding-school. Farewell, then, to rewards and fairies!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_GODS_IN_THE_SCHOOLHOUSE" id="THE_GODS_IN_THE_SCHOOLHOUSE"></a>THE GODS IN THE SCHOOLHOUSE</h2> + + +<p>Who am I to treat of the private affairs of my betters, to evoke your +fragrant names, Félicité, Perpetua, loves of my tender youth? Shall I +forget thee, Emilia, thy slow smile and peering brown eyes of mischief +or appeal? Rosy Lauretta, or thee, whom I wooed desperately from afar, +lured by thy buxom wellbeing, thy meek and schooled replies? And if I +forget you not, how shall I explore you as maladies, trace out the +stages of your conquest as if you were spores? Never, never. Worship +went up from me to you, and worship is religion, and religion is +sacred. So, my dears, were you, each of you in your turn, sacred in +your shrines. Before each of you in turn I fell down, suddenly, "<i>Come +corpo morto cadde</i>." And to each of you in turn I devoted those waking +hours which fancy had hitherto claimed of me. Yet this I do feel free +to say, by leave of you ladies, that calf-love has not the educative +value of the genuine passion. It is blind worship by instinct; it is a +sign of awakening sense, but it is not its awakener. It is a lovely +thing as all quick<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> or burning growth is, but it has little relation +to the soul, and our Northern state is the more gracious that +consummation of it is not feasible. Apart from the very obvious +drawbacks there is one not quite so obvious: I mean the early +exhaustion of imaginative sympathy. Love, indeed, is an affair of +maturity. I don't believe that a man, in this country, can love before +forty or a woman before thirty-five. They may marry before that and +have children; and they will love their children, but very rarely each +other. I am thinking now of love at its highest rating, as that +passion which is able to lift a man to the highest flight of which the +soul is capable here on earth—a flight, mind you, which it may take +without love, as the poet's takes it, or the musician's, but which the +ordinary man's can only take by means of love. Calf-love is wholly a +sex matter, perfectly natural, mostly harmless, and nearly always a +beautiful thing, to be treated tenderly by the wise parent.</p> + +<p>In my own case my mother treated it so, with a tact and a reverential +handling which only good women know, and I had it as I had mumps and +measles, badly, with a high temperature and some delirium but with no +aggravation from outside. It ran its course or its courses and left me +sane. One of its effects upon me was that it diverted the mind of my +forensic self from the proceedings or aptitudes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> of my recondite. I +neither knew nor cared what my wayward tenant might be doing; indeed, +so much was my natural force concerned in the heart-affair of the +moment that the other wretch within me lay as it were bound in a +dungeon. He never saw the light. The sun to him was dark and silent +was the moon. There, in fact, he remained for some five or six years, +while sex pricked its way into me intent upon the making of a man. He, +maybe, was to have something to say to that, something to do with +it—but not yet.</p> + +<p>So much for calf-love; but now for a more important matter. I left the +Grammar School at S——, at the age when boys usually go to their +Harrow and Winchester, as well equipped, I daresay, as most boys of my +years; for with the rudiments I had been fairly diligent, and with +some of them even had become expert. I was well grounded in Latin and +French grammar, and in English literature was far ahead of boys much +older than myself. Looking back now upon the drilling I had at S——, +I consider it was well done; but I have to set against the benefits I +got from the system the fact that I had much privacy and all the +chance which that gives a boy to educate himself withal. My school +hours limited my intercourse with the school world. Before and after +them I could develop at my own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> pace and in my own way—and I did. I +believe that when I went to my great school I had the makings of an +interesting lad in me; but I declare upon my conscience that it was +that place only which checked the promise for ten years or more, and +might have withered it altogether.</p> + +<p>My father was an idealist of 1851; he showed the enthusiasm and nursed +in his bosom the hopes and beliefs of the promoters of the +International Exhibition of that year. There was a plentiful planting +of foreign stock in England after that, and one of its weedy saplings +was an International Education Company, which out of a magniloquent +prospectus and some too-confident shareholders bore one fruit, the +London International College at Spring Grove. It never came to +maturity, and is now dropped and returned to the ground of all such +schemes. I suppose it had been on the stalk some fifteen years when I +went to feed of it.</p> + +<p>The scheme, in fact, sprang out of enthusiasm and had no bottom in +experience. It may be true that all men are brothers, but it is not +logical to infer from that that all brothers are the better for each +other's society. The raw Brazilians, Chilians, Nicaraguans and what +not who were drawn from their native forests and plunged into the +company of blockish Yorkshire lads, or sharp-faced London boys,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> were +only scared into rebellion and to demonstration after their manner. +They used the knife sometimes; they hardly ever assimilated; and they +taught us nothing that we were the better of knowing. Quite the +contrary. We taught them football, I think, and I remember a negro +from Bermuda, a giant of a fellow who raged over the ground like a +goaded bull when that game was being played, to the consternation of +his opponents. He had a younger brother with inordinately long arms, +like a great lax ape, a cheerful, grinning, harmless creature as I +remember him. He was a football player too; his hug was that of an +octopus which swallowed you all. As for the English, in return for +their football lore they received the gift of tobacco. I learned to +smoke at fifteen from a Chilian called Perez, a wizened, +preternaturally wise, old youth. Nobody in the world could have been +wise as he looked, and nobody else in the school as dull as he really +was. Over this motley assembly was set as house-master a ferocious +Scotchman of great parts, but no discretion; and there were +assistants, too, of scholarship and refinement, who, if they had had +the genius for education, without which these things are nothing, +might have put humanity into some of us. When it was past the time I +discovered this, and one of them became my friend and helper. I then +discovered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> the tragedy of our system from the other side. For the +pain is a two-edged sword, and imbrues the breast of the pedagogue +even while it bleeds the pupil to inanition. That poor man, scholar, +gentleman, humourist, poet, as he was, held boys in terror. He +misdoubted them; they made him self-conscious, betrayed him into +strange hidden acts of violence, rendered him incapable of instruction +except of the most conventional kind. All his finer nature, his +humanism, was paralysed. We thought him a poor fool, and got a crude +entertainment out of his antics. Actually he was tormenting in a +flame; and we thought his contortions ridiculous. God help us all, how +are we to get at each other, caged creatures as we are! But this is +indeed a tragic business, and I don't want you to tear your hair.</p> + +<p>I remained at Spring Grove, I think, four or five years, a barren, +profitless time. I remember scarcely one gleam of interest which +pierced for more than a few moments the thick gloom of it. The cruel, +dull, false gods of English convention (for thought it is not) held me +fast; masters and pupils alike were jailers to me. I ate and drank of +their provision and can recall still with nausea the sour, stale +taste, and still choke with the memory of the chaff and grit of its +quality. Accursed, perverse generation! God forbid that any child of +mine should suffer as I suf<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>fered, starve as I starved, stray where I +was driven to stray. The English boarding-school system is that of the +straw-yard where colts are broken by routine, and again of the +farmyard where pups are walked. Drill in school, <i>laissez-faire</i> out +of it. It is at once too dull and too indolent to recognise character +or even to look for it; it recks nothing of early development or late; +it measures young humanity for its class-rooms like a tailor, with the +yard measure. The discipline of boy over boy is, as might be expected, +brutal or bestial. The school-yard is taken for the world in small, +and so allowed to be. There is no thought taken, or at least betrayed, +that it is nothing more than a preparation for the world at large. +There is no reason, however, to suppose that the International College +was worse than any other large boarding-school. I fancy, indeed, that +it was in all points like the rest. There were no traces in my time of +the Brotherhood of Man about it. A few Portuguese, a negro or two were +there, and a multitude of Jews. But I fancy I should have found the +same sort of thing at Eton.</p> + +<p>I was not in any sense suited to such a place as this; if I had been +sent to travel it had been better for me. I was "difficult," not +because I was stiff but because I was lax. I resisted nothing except +by inertia. If my parents did not know me—and how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> should they?—if I +did not know myself, and I did not, my masters, for their part, made +no attempt to know me nor even inquired whether there might be +anything to know. I was unpopular, as might have been expected, made +no friends, did no good. My brother, on the other hand, was an ideal +schoolboy, diligent, brisk, lovable, abounding in friendships, good at +his work and excellent at his play. His career at Spring Grove was one +long happy triumph, and he deserved it. He has a charming nature, and +is one of the few naturally holy persons I know. Wholesome, thank God, +we all are, or could be; pious we nearly all are; but holiness is a +rare quality.</p> + +<p>If I were to try and set down here the really happy memories which I +have of Spring Grove they would be three. The first was the revelation +of Greece which was afforded me by Homer and Plato. The surging music +and tremendous themes of the poet, the sweet persuasion of the sophist +were a wonder and delight. I remember even now the thrill with which I +heard my form-master translate for us the prayer with which the +<i>Phædrus</i> closes: "Beloved Pan, and all ye other gods who haunt this +place...." Beloved Pan! My knowledge of Pan was of the vaguest, and +yet more than once or twice did I utter that prayer wandering alone +the playing field, or watching the evening mist roll down the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> Thames +Valley and blot up the elm trees, thick and white, clinging to the day +like a fleece. The third Iliad again I have never forgotten, nor the +twenty-fourth; nor the picture of the two gods, like vulture birds, +watching the battle from the dead tree. Nor, again, do I ever fail to +recapture the beat of the heart with which I apprehended some of +Homer's phrases: "Sandy Pylos," Argos "the pasture land of horses," or +"clear-seen" Ithaca. These things happened upon by chance in the dusty +class-room, in the close air of that terrible hour from two to three, +were as the opening of shutters to the soul, revealing blue distances, +dim fields, or the snowy peaks of mountains in the sun. One seemed to +lift, one could forget. It lasted but an instant; but time is of no +account to the inner soul, of no more account than it is to God. I +have never forgotten these moments of escape; nor can I leave Homer +without confessing that his books became my Bible. I accepted his +theology implicitly; I swallowed it whole. The Godhead of the +Olympians, the lesser divinity of Thetis and Alpheios and Xanthos were +indisputable. They were infinitely more real to me than the deities of +my own land; and though I have found room for these later on in life, +it has not been by displacing the others. Nor is there any need for +that, so far as I see. I say that out of Homer I took his Gods;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> I add +that I took them instantly. I seemed to breathe the air of their +breath; they appealed to my reason; I knew that they had existed and +did still exist. I was not shocked or shaken in my faith, either, by +anything I read about them. Young as I was and insipient, I was +prepared for what is called the burlesque Olympus of the Iliad, so +grievous to Professor Murray. I think I recognised then, what seems +perfectly plain to me now, that you might as well think meanly of a +God of Africa because the natives make him of a cocoanut on a stick, +as of Zeus and Hera because Homer says that they played peccant +husband and jealous wife. If Homer halted it is rash to assume that +Hephaistos did. The pathetic fallacy has crept in here. Mythology was +one of the few subjects I diligently read at school, and all I got out +of it was pure profit—for I realised that the Gods' world was not +ours, and that when their natures came in conflict with ours some such +interpretation must always be put upon their victory. We have a moral +law for our mutual wellbeing which they have not. We translate their +deeds in terms of that law of ours, and it certainly appears like a +standing fact of Nature that when the beings of one order come into +commerce with those of another the result will be tragic. There is +only a harmony in acquiescence, and the way to that is one of blood +and tears.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> + +<p>Brooding over all this I discerned dimly, even in that dusty, brawling +place, and time showed me more and more clearly, that I had always +been aware of the Gods and conscious of their omnipresence. It seemed +plain to me that Zeus, whose haunt is dark Dodona, lorded it over the +English skies and was to be heard in the thunder crashing over the +elms of Middlesex. I knew Athené in the shrill wind which battled +through the vanes and chimneys of our schoolhouse. Artemis was Lady of +my country. By Apollo's light might I too come to be led. Poseidon of +the dark locks girdled my native seas. I had had good reason to know +the awfulness of Pan, and guessed that some day I should couch with +Koré the pale Queen. I called them by these names, since these names +expressed to me their essence: you may call them what you will, and so +might I, for I had not then reasoned with myself about names. By their +names I knew them. The Gods were there, indeed, ignorantly worshipped +by all and sundry. Then the Dryad of my earlier experience came up +again, and I saw that she stood in such a relation to the Gods as I +did, perhaps, to the Queen of England; that she, no less than they, +was part of a wonderful order, and the visible expression of the +spirit of some Natural Fact. But whether above all the Gods and +nations of men and beasts there were one God and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> Father of us all, +whether all Nature were one vast synthesis of Spirit having +innumerable appearance but one soul, I did not then stay to inquire, +and am not now prepared to say. I don't mean by that at all that I +don't believe it. I do believe it, but by an act of religion; for +there are states of the individual mind, states of impersonal soul in +which this belief is a positive truth, in the which one exults madly, +or by it is humbled to the dust. Religion, to my mind, is the result +of this consciousness of kinship with the principle of Life; all the +emotion and moral uplifting involved in this tremendous certainty, and +all the lore gathered and massed about it—this is Religion. Young as +I was at the time I now speak of, ignorant and dumb as I was, I had my +moments of exultation and humility,—moments so wild that I was +transported out of myself. I left my body supine in its narrow bed and +soared above the stars. At such times, in an æther so deep that the +blue of it looked like water, I seemed to see the Gods themselves, a +shining row of them, upon the battlements of Heaven. I called Heaven +Olympus, and conceived of Olympus as a towered city upon a white hill. +Looming up out of the deep blue arch, it was vast and covered the +whole plateau: I saw the walls of it run up and down the ridges, in +and out of the gorges which cut into the mass. It had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> gates, but I +never saw forms of any who entered or left it. It was full of light, +and had the look of habitancy about it; but I saw no folk. Only at +rare moments of time while I hovered afar off looking at the wonder +and radiance of it, the Gods appeared above the battlements in a +shining row—still and awful, each of them ten feet high.</p> + +<p>These were fine dreams for a boy of sixteen in a schoolhouse +dormitory. They were mine, though: but I dreamed them awake. I awoke +before they began, always, and used to sit up trembling and wait for +them.</p> + +<p>An apologue, if you please. On the sacred road from Athens to Eleusis, +about midway of its course, and just beyond the pass, there is a fork +in it, and a stony path branches off and leads up into the hills. +There, in the rock, is a shallow cave, and before that, where once was +an altar of Aphrodite, the ruins of her shrine and precinct may be +seen. As I was going to Eleusis the other day, I stopped the carriage +to visit the place. Now, beside the cave is a niche, cut square in the +face of the rock, for offerings; and in that niche I found a fresh +bunch of field flowers, put there by I know not what dusty-foot +wayfarer. That was no longer ago than last May, and the man who did +the piety was a Christian, I suppose. So do I avow myself, without +derogation, I hope, to the profession; for no more than Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> Robert +Kirk, a minister of religion in Scotland in the seventeenth century, +do I consider that a knowledge of the Gods is incompatible with belief +in God. There is a fine distinction for you: I believe that God +exists; I infer him by reason stimulated by desire. But I know that +the Gods exist by other means than those. If I could be as sure of God +as I am of the Gods, I might perhaps be a better Christian, but I +should not believe any less in the Gods.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I found religion through Homer: I found poetry through Milton, whose +<i>Comus</i> we had to read for examination by some learned Board. If any +one thing definitely committed me to poesy it was that poem; and as +has nearly always happened to me, the crisis of discovery came in a +flash. We were all there ranked at our inky desks on some drowsy +afternoon. The books lay open before us, the lesson, I suppose, +prepared. But what followed had not been prepared—that some one began +to read:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The star that bids the shepherd fold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now the top of Heav'n doth hold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the gilded car of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His glowing axle doth allay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the steep Atlantic stream"—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and immediately, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, it was +changed—for me—from verse to poetry; that is, from a jingle to a +significant fact.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> It was more than it appeared; it was transfigured; +its implication was manifest. That's all I can say—except this, that, +untried as I was, I jumped into the poetic skin of the thing, and felt +as if I had written it. I knew all about it, "<i>e'l chi, e'l quale</i>"; I +was privy to its intricacy; I caught without instruction the +alternating beat in the second line, and savoured all the good words, +<i>gilded car</i>, <i>glowing axle</i>, <i>Star that bids the shepherd fold</i>. +<i>Allay</i> ravished me, young as I was. I knew why he had called the +Atlantic stream <i>steep</i>, and remembered Homer's "Στυγὸς ὔδατος αἰπὰ ῥέεθρα." Good soul, our pedagogue suggested <i>deep</i>! I +remember to this hour the sinking of the heart with which I heard him. +But the flash passed and darkness again gathered about me, the normal +darkness of those hateful days. "Sabrina fair" lifted it; my sky +showed me an amber shaft. I am recording moments, the reader will +remember, the few gleams which visited me in youth. I was far from the +time when I could connect them, see that poetry was the vesture of +religion, the woven garment whereby we see God. Love had to teach me +that. I was not born until I loved.</p> + +<p>My third happy memory is of a brief and idyllic attachment, very +fervent, very romantic, entirely my own, and as I remember it, now, +entirely beautiful. Nothing remains but the fragrance of it, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> its +dream-like quality, the sense I have of straying with the beloved +through a fair country. Such things assure me that I was not wholly +dead during those crushing years of servitude.</p> + +<p>But those are, as I say, gleams out of the dark. They comfort me with +the thought that the better part of me was not dead, but buried here +with the worse. They point also to the truth, as I take it to be, that +the lack of privacy is one of the most serious detriments of +public-school life. I don't say that privacy is good for all boys, or +that it is good for any unless they are provided with a pursuit. It is +true that many boys seek to be private that they may be vicious, and +that the having the opportunity for privacy leads to vice. But that is +nearly always the fault of the masters. Vice is due to the need for +mental or material excitement; it is a crude substitute for romance. +If a boy is debarred from good romance, because he doesn't feel it or +hasn't been taught to feel it, he will take to bad. It is nothing else +at all: he is bored. And remembering that a boy can only think of one +thing at a time, the single aim of the master should be to give every +boy in his charge some sane interest which he can pursue to the death, +as a terrier chases a smell, in and out, up and down, every nerve bent +and quivering. There is a problem of the teaching art which the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +College at Spring Grove made no attempt to solve while I was there. +You either played football and cricket or you were negligible. I was +bad at both, was negligible, and neglected.</p> + +<p>I suspect that my experiences are very much those of other people, and +that is why I have taken the trouble to articulate them, and perhaps +to make them out more coherent than they were. We don't feel in images +or think in words. The images are about us, the words may be at hand; +but it may well be that we are better without them. This world is a +tight fit, and life in it, as the Duke said of one day of his own +life, is "a devilish close-run thing." If the blessed Gods and the +legions of the half-gods in their habit as they live, were to be as +clear to us as our neighbour Tom or our chief at the office, what +might be the lot of Tom's wife, or what the security of our high stool +at the desk? As things are, our blank misgivings are put down to +nerves, our yearning for wings to original sin. The policeman at the +street corner sees to it, for our good, that we put out of sight these +things, and so we grow rich and make a good appearance. It is only +when we are well on in years that we can afford to be precise and, +looking back, to remember the celestial light, the glory and the +freshness of the dream in which we walked and bathed ourselves.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_SOUL_AT_THE_WINDOW" id="THE_SOUL_AT_THE_WINDOW"></a>THE SOUL AT THE WINDOW</h2> + + +<p>When I had been in London a year or two, and the place with its hordes +was become less strange and less formidable to me, I began to discover +it for myself. Gradually the towering cliffs resolved themselves into +houses, and the houses into shrouded holds, each with character and +each hiding a mystery. They now stood solitary which had before been +an agglutinated mass. Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.... I knew +one from the other by sight, and had for each a specific sensation of +attraction or repulsion, of affection or terror. I read through the +shut doors, I saw through the blank windows; not a house upon my daily +road but held a drama or promised a tragedy. I had no sense for comedy +in those days; life to me, waking life, was always a dreadful thing. +And sometimes my bodily eyes had glimpses which confirmed my +fancy—unexpected, sudden and vivid flashes behind curtained windows. +I once saw two men fighting, shadowed black upon a white blind. I once +looked out of a window at the Army and Navy Stores into a mean<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +bedroom across the way. There was a maidservant in there, making beds, +emptying slops, tidying this and that. Quite suddenly she threw her +head up with a real despair, and next moment she was on her knees by +the bed. Praying! I never saw prayer like that in this country. The +soul went streaming from her mouth like blown smoke. And again, one +night, very late, I was going to bed, and leaned out of my window for +air. Before me, across back yards, leafless trees, and a litter of +packing-cases and straw, rose up a dark rampart of houses, in the +midst of it a lit window. I saw a poorly furnished sitting-room—a +table with a sewing machine, a paraffin lamp, a chair with an +antimacassar. A man in his shirt sleeves sat there by the table, +smoking a pipe. Then the door opened and a tall, slim woman came in, +all in white, with loose dark hair floating about her shoulders. She +stood between door and table and rested her hand upon the edge of the +table. The man, after a while of continuing to read, quite suddenly +looked up and saw her. They looked at each other motionless. He cast +down his paper, sprang up and went to her. He fell to his knees before +her and clasped hers. She looked across, gravely considering, then +laid her hand upon his head. That was all. I saw no more. Husband and +wife? Mother and son? Sinner and Saviour? What do I know?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> + +<p>As with the houses, homes of mystery, so with the men and women one +passed; homes, they too, of things hidden yet more deep. The noise of +the streets, at first paralysing, died down to a familiar rumble, and +the ear began to distinguish voices in the tide. Sounds of crying, +calls for help, hailings, laughter, tears, separated themselves and +appealed. You heard them, like the cries of the drowning, drifting by +you upon a dark tide-way. You could do nothing; a word would have +broken the spell. The mask which is always over the face would have +covered the tongue or throttled the larynx. You could do nothing but +hear.</p> + +<p>Finally, the passing faces became sometimes penetrable, betrayed by +some chance gleam of the eyes, some flicker of the lips, a secret to +be shared, or conveyed by a hint some stabbing message out of the deep +into the deep. That is what I mean by the soul at the window. Every +one of us lives in a guarded house; door shut, windows curtained. Now +and then, however, you look up above the street level and catch a +glimpse of the scared prisoner inside. He may be a satyr, a fairy, an +ape or an angel; he's a prisoner anyhow, who sometimes comes to the +window and looks strangely out. You may see him there by chance, +saying to himself like Chaucer's Creseyde in the temple, "Ascaunces,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +What! May I not stonden here?" And I found out for myself that there +is scarcely a man or woman alive who does not hold such a tenant more +or less deeply within his house.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the walls of the house are transparent, like a frog's foot, +and you see the prisoner throbbing and quivering inside. This is rare. +Shelley's house must have been a filmy tenement of the kind. With +children—if you catch them young enough—it is more common. I +remember one whom I used to see nearly every day, the child of poor +parents, who kept a green-grocer's shop in Judd Street, Saint Pancras, +a still little creature moving about in worlds not recognised. She was +slim and small, fair-haired, honey-coloured, her eyes wells of blue. I +used to see her standing at the door of the shop, amid baskets of +green stuff, crimsoned rhubarb, pyramided dates, and what not. I never +saw her dirty or untidy, nor heard her speak, nor saw her laugh. She +stood or leaned at the lintel, watching I know not what, but certainly +not anything really there, as we say. She appeared to be looking +through objects rather than at them. I can describe it no otherwise +than that I, or another, crossed her field of vision and was conscious +that her eyes met mine and yet did not see me. To me she was instantly +remarkable, not for this and not for any beauty she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> had—for she was +not at all extraordinary in that quality—but for this, that she was +not of our kind. Surrounded by other children, playing gaily, circling +about her, she was <i>sui generis</i>. She carried her own atmosphere, +whereby in the company of others she seemed unaccountable, by herself +only, normal. Nature she fitted perfectly, but us she did not fit. +Now, it is a curious thing, accepted by all visionaries, that a +supernatural being, a spirit, fairy, not-human creature, if you see it +among animals, beasts and birds, on hills or in the folds of hills, +among trees, by waters, in fields of flowers, <i>looks at home</i> and +evidently is so. The beasts are conscious of it, know it and have no +fear of it; the hills and valleys are its familiar places in a way +which they will never be to the likes of us. But put a man beside it +and it becomes at once supernatural. I have seen spirits, beings, +whatever they may be, in empty space, and have observed them as part +of the landscape, no more extraordinary than grazing cattle or +wheeling plover. Again I have seen a place thick with them, as thick +as a London square in a snow-storm, and a man walk clean through them +unaware of their existence, and make them, by that act, a mockery of +the senses. So precisely it was with this strange child, unreal to me +when she was real to everybody else.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> + +<p>She had a name, a niche in the waking world. Marks, Greengrocer, was +the inscription of the shop. She was Elsie Marks. Her father was a +stout, florid man of maybe fifty years, with a chin-beard and +light-blue eyes. Good-humoured he seemed, and prosperous, something of +a ready wit, a respected and respectable man, who stamped his way +about the solid ground in a way which defied dreams.</p> + +<p>If I had been experienced, I should have remarked the mother, but in +fact I barely remember her, though I spoke with her one day. She was +somewhat heavy and grave, I think, downcast and yet watchful. She did +her business efficiently, without enthusiasm, and did not enter into +general conversation with her customers. Her husband did that part of +the business. Marks was a merry Jew. I bought oranges of her once for +the sake of hearing her speak, and while she was serving me the child +came into the shop and stood by her. She leaned against her rather +than stood, took the woman's disengaged arm and put it round her neck. +Looks passed between them; the mother's sharply down, the child's +searchingly up. On either side there was pain, as if each tried to +read the other.</p> + +<p>I was very shy with strangers. The more I wanted to get on terms with +them the less I was able to do it. I asked the child whether she liked +oranges.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>I asked the child, but the mother answered me, measuring her words.</p> + +<p>"She likes nothing of ours. It's we that like and she that takes." +That was her reply.</p> + +<p>"I am sure that she likes you at any rate," I said. Her hold on the +child tightened, as if to prevent an escape.</p> + +<p>"She should, since I bore her. But she has much to forgive me."</p> + +<p>Such a word left me dumb. I was not then able to meet women on such +terms. Nor did I then understand her as I do now.</p> + +<p>Here is another case. There was a slatternly young woman whom I +caught, or who caught me, unawares; who suddenly threw open the +windows and showed me things I had never dreamed.</p> + +<p>Opposite the chambers in R—— Buildings where I worked, or was +intended to work, and across a wall, there was a row of tenements +called, if I remember, Gaylord's Rents. Part mews, part warehouses, +and all disreputable, the upper story of it, as it showed itself to me +over the wall, held some of the frowsiest of London's horde. Exactly +before my eyes was one of the lowest of these hovels, the upper part +of a stable, I imagine, since it had, instead of a window, a door, of +which half was always shut and half always open, so that light might +get in or the tenants lean out to take the air.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> + +<p>Here, and so leaning her bare elbows, I saw on most days of the week a +slim young woman airing herself—a pale-faced, curling-papered, +half-bodiced, unwashed drab of a girl, who would have had shame +written across her for any one to read if she had not seemed of all +women I have ever seen the least shamefaced. Her brows were as +unwritten as a child's, her smile as pure as a seraph's, and her eyes +blue, unfaltering and candid. She laughed a greeting, exchanged +gossip, did her sewing, watched events, as the case might be, was not +conscious of her servitude or anxious to market it. Sometimes she +shared her outlook with an old woman—a horrible, greasy go-between, +with straggling grey hair and a gin-inflamed face. She chatted with +this beldame happily, she cupped her vile old dewlap, or stroked her +dishonourable head; sometimes a man in shirt sleeves was with her, +treated her familiarly, with rude embraces, with kisses, nudges and +leers. She accepted all with good-humour and, really, complete good +breeding. She invited nothing, provoked nothing, but resented nothing. +It seemed to me as if all these things were indeed nothing to her; +that she hardly knew that they were done; as if her soul could render +them at their proper worth, transmute them, sherd them off, discard +them. It was, then, her surface which took them; what her soul +received was a distillation, an essence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then one night I had all made plain. She entranced me on a summer +night of stillness, under a full yellow moon. I was working late, till +past ten, past eleven o'clock, and looking out of my open window +suddenly was aware of her at hers. The shutter was down, both wings of +it, and she stood hovering, seen at full length, above the street. +She! Could this be she? It was so indeed—but she was transfigured, +illuminated from within; she rayed forth light. The moon shone full +upon her, and revealed her pure form from head to foot swathed in +filmy blue—a pale green-blue, the colour of ocean water seen from +below. Translucent webbery, whatever it was, it showed her beneath it +as bare as Venus was when she fared forth unblemished from the sea. +Her pale yellow hair was coiled above her head; her face looked mild +and radiant with a health few Londoners know. Her head was bent in a +considering way; she stood as one who is about to plunge into deep +water, and stands hesitating at the shock. Once or twice she turned +her face up, to bathe it in the light. I saw that in it which in human +faces I had never seen—communion with things hidden from men, secret +knowledge shared with secret beings, assurance of power above our +hopes.</p> + +<p>Breathless I watched her, the drab of my daily observation, radiant +now; then as I watched she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> stretched out her arms and bent them +together like a shield so that her burning face was hidden from me, +and without falter or fury launched herself into the air, and dropt +slowly down out of my sight.</p> + +<p>Exactly so she did it. As we may see a pigeon or chough high on the +verge of a sea-cliff float out into the blue leagues of the air, and +drift motionless and light—or descend to the sea less by gravity than +at will—so did she. There was nothing premeditated, there was nothing +determined on: mood was immediately translated into ability—she was +at will lighter or heavier than the air. It was so done that here was +no shock at all—she in herself foreshadowed the power she had. +Rather, it would have been strange to me if, irradiated, transplendent +as she was, she had not considered her freedom and on the instant +indulged it. I accepted her upon her face value without question—I +did not run out to spy upon her. <i>Ecce unus fortior me!</i></p> + +<p>In this case, being still new to the life into which I was gradually +being drawn, it did not for one moment occur to me to start an +adventure of my own. I might have accosted the woman, who was, as the +saying goes, anybody's familiar; or I might have spied for another +excursion of her spirit, and, with all preparation made, have followed +her. But I did neither of these things at the time. I saw her next<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +day leaning bare-elbowed on the ledge of her half-door, her hair in +curl-papers, her face the pale unwholesome pinched oval of most London +women of her class. Her bodice was pinned across her chest; she was +coarse-aproned, new from the wash-tub or the grate. Not a sign upon +her but told of her frowsy round. The stale air of foul lodgment was +upon her. I found out indeed this much about her ostensible state, +that she was the wife of a cab-driver whose name was Ventris. He was +an ill-conditioned, sottish fellow who treated her badly, but had +given her a child. But he was chiefly on night-work at Euston, and the +man whom I had seen familiar with her in the daytime was not he. Her +reputation among her neighbours was not good. She was, in fact, no +better than she should be—or, as I prefer to put it, no better than +she could be.</p> + +<p>Yet I knew her, withal, as of the fairy-kind, bound to this +earth-bondage by some law of the Universe not yet explored; not +pitiable because not self-pitying, and (what is more important) not +reprehensible because impossible to be bound, as we are, soul to body. +I know that now, but did not know it then; and yet—extraordinary +thing—I was never shocked by the contrast between her two states of +being. This is to me a clear and certain evidence of their +reality—just as it is evidence to me that when, at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> ten years old, I +seemed to see the boy in the wood, I really did see him. An +hallucination or a dream upsets your moral balance. The things +impressed upon you are abnormal; and the abnormal disturbs you. Now +these apparitions did not seem abnormal. I saw nothing wonderful in +Mrs. Ventris's act. I was impressed by it, I was excited by it, as I +still am by a convulsion of nature—a thunder-storm in the Alps, for +instance, a water-spout at sea. Such things hold beauty and terror; +they entrance, they appal; but they never shock. They happen, and they +are right. I have not seen what people call a ghost, and I have often +been afraid lest I should see one. But I know very well that if ever I +did I should have no fear. I know very well that a natural fact +impresses its conformity with law upon you first and last. It becomes, +on the moment of its appearance, a part of the landscape. If it does +not, it is an hallucination, or a freak of the imagination, and will +shock you. I have much more extraordinary experiences than this to +relate, but there will be nothing shocking in these pages—at least +nothing which gave me the least sensation of shock. One of them—a +thing extraordinary to all—must occupy a chapter by itself. I cannot +precisely fit a date to it, though I shall try. And as it forms a +whole, having a beginning, a middle and an end, I shall want<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> to +depart from my autobiographical plan and put it in as a whole. The +reader will please to recollect that it did not work itself out in my +consciousness by a flash. The first stages of it came so, in flashes +of revelation; but the conclusion was of some years later, when I was +older and more established in the world.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>But before I embark upon it I should like to make a large jump forward +and finish with the young woman of Gaylord's Rents. It was by accident +that I happened upon her at her mysteries, at a later day when I was +living in London, in Camden Town.</p> + +<p>By that time I had developed from a lad of inarticulate mind and +unexpressed desires into a sentient and self-conscious being. I was +more or less of a man, not only adventurous but bold in the pursuit of +adventure. I lived for some two or three years in that sorry quarter +of London in complete solitude—"in poverty, total idleness and the +pride of literature," like Doctor Johnson, for though I wrote little I +read much, and though I wrote little I was most conscious that I was +about to write much. It was a period of brooding, of mewing my youth, +and whatever facility of imagination and expression I have since +attained I owe very much to my hermitage in Albert Street.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>If I walked in those days it was by night. London at night is a very +different place from the town of business and pleasure of ordinary +acquaintance. During the day I fulfilled my allotted hours at the +desk; but immediately they were over I returned to my lodgings, got +out my books, and sat enthralled until somewhere near midnight. But +then, instead of going to bed, I was called by the night, and forth I +sallied all agog. I walked the city, the embankment, skirted the +parks, unless I were so fortunate as to slip in before gate-shutting. +Often I was able to remain in Kensington Gardens till the opening +hour. Highgate and its woods, Parliament Hill with its splendid +panorama of twinkling beacons and its noble tent of stars, were great +fields for me. Hampstead Heath, Wimbledon, even Richmond and Bushey +have known me at their most secret hour. Such experiences as I have +had of the preternatural will find their place in this book, but not +their chronological place, for the simple reason that, as I kept no +diary, I cannot remember in what order of time they befell me. But it +was on the southern slope of Parliament Hill that I came again upon +the fairy-woman of Gaylord's Rents.</p> + +<p>I was there at midnight, a mild radiant night of late April. There +were sheep at graze there, for though it was darkish under the +three-quarter moon,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> I was used to the dark, and could see them, a +woolly mass, quietly feeding close together. I saw no shepherd +anywhere; but I remember that his dog sat on his haunches apart, +watching them. He was prick-eared, bright-eyed; he grinned and panted +intensely. I didn't then know why he was so excited, but very soon I +did.</p> + +<p>I became aware, gradually, that a woman stood among the sheep. She had +not been there when I first saw them, I am sure; nor did I see her +approach them or enter their school. Yet there she was in the midst of +them, seen now by me as she had evidently been seen for some time by +the dog, seen, I suppose, by the sheep—at any rate she stood in the +midst of them, as I say, with her hand actually upon the shoulder of +one of them—but not feared or doubted by any soul of us. The dog was +vividly interested, but did not budge; the sheep went on feeding; I +stood bolt upright, watching.</p> + +<p>I knew her the moment I saw her. She was the exquisitely formed, slim +and glowing creature I had seen before, when she launched herself into +the night as a God of Homer—Hermes or Thetis—launched out from +Olympus' top into the sea—"ἐξ αἰθέρος ἔμπεσε πόντῳ," and +words fail me to describe the perfection of her being, a radiant +simulacrum of our own, the inconscient self-sufficiency, the buoyancy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +and freedom which she showed me. You may sometimes see boys at their +maddest tip of expectation stand waiting as she now stood, quivering +on the extreme edge of adventure; yet even in their case there is a +consciousness of well being, a kind of rolling of anticipation upon +the palate, a getting of the flavours beforehand. That involves a +certain dissipation of activity; but here all was concentrated. The +whole nature of the creature was strung to one issue only, to that +point when she could fling headlong into activity—an activity in +which every fibre and faculty would be used. A comparison of the +fairy-kind with human beings is never successful, because into our +images of human beings we always import self-consciousness. They know +what they are doing. Fairies do not. But wait a moment; there is a +reason. Human creatures, I think, know what they are doing only too +well, because performance never agrees with desire. They know what +they are doing because it is never exactly what they meant to do, or +what they wanted to do. Now, with fairies, desire to do and +performance are instinctive and simultaneous. If they think, they +think in action. In this they are far more like animals than human +creatures, although the form in which they appear to us, their shape +and colouring are like ours, enhanced and refined. Here now stood this +crea<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>ture in the semblance of a woman glorified, quivering; and so, +perched high on his haunches, sat the shepherd's dog, and no one could +look at the two and not see their kinship. <i>Arrière-pensée</i> they had +none—and all's said in that. They were shameless, and we are full of +shame. There's the difference; and it is a gulf.</p> + +<p>After a while of this quivering suspense she gave a low call, a long +mellow and tremulous cry which, gentle as it was, startled by its +suddenness, as the unexpected call of a water-fowl out of the reeds of +a pond makes the heart jump toward the throat. It was like some bird's +call, but I know of no bird's with which to get a close comparison. It +had the soft quality, soft yet piercing, of a redshank's, but it +shuddered like an owl's. And she held it on as an owl does. But it was +very musical, soft and open-throated, and carried far. It was answered +from a distance, first by a single voice; but then another took it up, +and another; and then another. Slowly so the soft night was filled +with musical cries which quavered about me as fitfully as fire-flies +gleam and glance in all quarters of a garden of olive-trees. It was +enchantment to the ear, a ravishing sound; but it was my eyes which +claimed me now, for soon I saw them coming from all quarters. Or +rather, I saw them there, for I can't say definitely that I saw any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +one of them on the way. It is truer to say that I looked and they were +there. Where had been one were now two. Now two were five; now five +were a company; now the company was a host. I have no idea how many +there were of them at any time; but when they joined hands and set to +whirling in a ring they seemed to me to stretch round Parliament Hill +in an endless chain.</p> + +<p>How can I be particular about them? They were of both sexes—that was +put beyond doubt; they were garbed as the first of them in something +translucent and grey. It had been quite easy in the lamplight to see +the bare form of the woman whom I first saw in Gaylord's Rents. It was +plain to me that her companions were in the same kind of dress. I +don't think they had girdles; I think their arms and legs were bare. I +should describe the garment as a sleeveless smock to the knees, or +perhaps, more justly, as a sack of silky gauze with a hole for the +head and two for the arms. That was the effect of it. It hung straight +and took the folds natural to it. It was so light that it clung +closely to the body where it met the air. What it was made of I have +no notion; but it was transparent or nearly so. I am pretty sure that +its own colour was grey.</p> + +<p>They greeted each other; they flitted about from group to group +greeting; and they greeted by touch<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>ing, sometimes with their hands, +sometimes with their cheeks. They neither kissed nor spoke. I never +saw them kiss even when they loved—which they rarely did. I saw one +greeting between two females. They ran together and stopped short +within touching distance. They looked brightly and intently at each +other, and leaning forward approached their cheeks till they +touched.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> They touched by the right, they touched by the left. Then +they took hands and drew together. By a charming movement of +confidence one nestled to the side of the other and resting her head +looked up and laughed. The taller embraced her with her arm and held +her for a moment. The swiftness of the act and its grace were +beautiful to see. Then hand in hand they ran to others who were a +little further off. The elder and taller had a wild dark face with +stern lips, like a man's; the younger was a beautiful little creature +with quick, squirrel's motions. I remember her hair, which looked +white in that light, but was no doubt lint colour. It was extremely +long, and so fine that it clung to her shoulders and back like a web +of thin silk.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> I argue from this peculiar manner of greeting, which I +have observed several times, that these beings converse by contact, as +dogs, cats, mice, and other creatures certainly do. I don't say that +they have no other means of converse; but I am sure I am exact in +saying that they have no articulate speech.</p></div></div> + +<p>They began to play very soon with a zest for mere <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>irresponsible +movement which I have never seen in my own kind. I have seen young +foxes playing, and it was something like that, only incomparably more +graceful. Greyhounds give a better comparison where the rippling of +the body is more expressive of their speed than the flying of their +feet. These creatures must have touched the earth, but their bodies +also ran. And just as young dogs play for the sake of activity, +without method or purpose, so did these; and just as with young +animals the sexes mingle without any hint of sexuality, so did these. +If there was love-making I saw nothing of it there. They met on exact +equality so far as I could judge, the male not desirous, the female +not conscious of being desired.</p> + +<p>But it was a mad business under the cloudy moon. It had a dream-like +element of riot and wild triumph. I suppose I must have been there for +two or three hours, during all which time their swift play was never +altogether stopped. There were interludes to be seen, when some three +or four grew suddenly tired and fell out. They threw themselves down +on the sward and lay panting, beaming, watching the others, or they +disappeared into the dark and were lost in the thickets which dot the +ground. Then finally I saw the great whirling ring of them form—under +what common impulse to frenzy I cannot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> divine. There was no signal, +no preparation, but as if fired in unison they joined hands, and +spreading out to a circumference so wide that I could distinguish +nothing but a ring of light, they whirled faster and faster till the +speed of them sang in my ears like harps, and whirling so, melted +away.</p> + +<p>Later on and in wilder surroundings than this I saw, and shall relate +in its place, a dance of Oreads. It differed in detail from this one, +but not, I think, in any essential. This was my first experience of +the kind.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="QUIDNUNC" id="QUIDNUNC"></a>QUIDNUNC</h2> + + +<p>I was so fired by that extraordinary adventure, that I think I could +have overcome my constitutional timidity and made myself acquainted +with the only actor in it who was accessible if I had not become +involved in another matter of the sort. But I don't know that I should +have helped myself thereby. To the night the things of the night +pertain. If I could have had speech with Mrs. Ventris in that season +of her radiancy there would have been no harm; but by day she was +another creature. Thereby contact was impossible because it would have +been horrible. It is true that a certain candour of conduct +distinguished her from the frowsy drabs with whom she must have +jostled in public-house bars or rubbed elbows at lodging-house doors, +a sort of unconsciousness of evil, which I take to have been due to an +entire absence of a moral sense. It is probable that she was not a +miserable sinner because she did not know what was miserable sin. Heat +and cold she knew, hunger and thirst, rage and kindness. She could not +be unwomanly because she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> was not woman, nor good because she could +not be bad. But I could have been very bad; and to me she was, +luckily, horrible. I could not divorce her two apparent natures, still +less my own. We are bound—all of us—by our natures, bound by them +and bounded. I could not have touched the pitch she lived with, the +pitch of which she was, without defilement. Let me hope that I +realised that much. I shall not say how my feet burned to enter that +slum of squalor where hovered this bird of the night, unless I add, as +I can do with truth, that I did not slake them there. I saw her on and +off afterward for a year, perhaps; but tenancies are short in London. +There was a flitting during one autumn when I was away on vacation, +and I came back to see new faces in the half-doorway and other elbows +on the familiar ledge.</p> + +<p>But as I have said above, a new affair engrossed me shortly after my +night pageant on Parliament Hill. This was concerned with a famous +personage whom all knowing London (though I for one had not known it) +called Quidnunc.</p> + +<p>But before I present to the curious reader the facts of a case which +caused so much commotion in distinguished bosoms of the late +"eighties," I think I should say that, while I have a strong +conviction as to the identity of the person himself, I shall not +ex<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>press it. I accept the doctrine that there are some names not to be +uttered. Similarly I shall neither defend nor extenuate; if I throw it +out at all it will be as a hint to the judicious, or a clew, if you +like, to those who are groping a way in or out of the labyrinth of +Being. To me two things are especially absurd: one is that the +trousered, or skirted, forms we eat with, walk with, or pass unheeded, +are all the population of our world; the other, that these creatures, +ostensibly men or women with fancies, hopes, fears, appetites like our +own, are necessarily of the same nature as ourselves. If beings from +another sphere should, by intention or chance, meet and mingle with +us, I don't see how we could apprehend them at all except in our own +mode, or unless they were, so to speak, translated into our idiom. But +enough of that. The year in which I first met Quidnunc, so far as my +memory serves me, was 1886.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I was in those days a student of the law, with chambers in Gray's Inn +which I daily attended; but being more interested in palæography than +in modern practice, and intending to make that my particular branch of +effort, I spent much of my time at the Public Record Office; indeed, a +portion of every working day. The track between R—— Buildings and +Rolls Yard must have been sensibly thinned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> by my foot-soles; there +can have been few of the frequenters of Chancery Lane, Bedford Row and +the squares of Gray's Inn who were not known to me by sight or +concerning whom I had not imagined (or discerned) circumstances +invisible to their friends or themselves to account for their acts or +appearances. Among these innumerable personages—portly solicitors, +dashing clerks, scriveners, racing tipsters, match-sellers, postmen, +young ladies of business, young ladies of pleasure, clients descending +out of broughams, clients keeping rendezvous in public-houses, and +what not—Quidnunc's may well have been one; but I believe that it was +in Warwick Court (that passage from Holborn into the Inn) that, quite +suddenly, I first saw him, or became aware that I saw him; for being, +as he was, to all appearance an ordinary telegraphic messenger, I may +have passed him daily for a year without any kind of notice. But on a +day in the early spring of 1886—mid-April at a guess—I came upon him +in such a way as to remark him incurably. I saw before me on that +morning of tender leafage, of pale sunlight and blue mist contending +for the day, a strangely assorted pair proceeding slowly toward the +Inn. A telegraph boy was one; by his side walked, vehemently +explaining, a tall, elderly solicitor—white-whiskered, drab-spatted, +frock-coated, eye-glassed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> silk-hatted—in every detail the trusted +family lawyer. I knew the man by sight, and I knew him by name and +repute. He was, let me say—for I withhold his real name—George +Lumley Fowkes, of Fowkes, Vizard and Fowkes, respectable head of a +more than respectable firm; and here he was, with his hat pushed back +from his dewy forehead, tip-toeing, protesting, extenuating to a slip +of a lad in uniform. The positions of the odd pair were unaccountably +reversed; Jack was better than his master, the deference was from the +elder to the brat. The stoop of Fowkes's shoulder, the anxious angle +of his head, his care to listen to the little he got—and how little +that was I could not but observe—his frequent ejaculations of "God +bless my soul!" his deep concern—and the boy's unconcern, curtly +expressed, if expressed at all—all this was singular. So much more +than singular was it to myself that it enthralled me.</p> + +<p>They stopped at the gateway which admits you to Bedford Row to finish +their colloquy. The halt was made by Fowkes, barely acquiesced in by +his companion. Poor old Fowkes, what with his asthma, the mopping of +his head, the flacking of his long fingers, exhibited signals of the +highest distress. "I need hardly assure you, sir ..." I heard; and +then, "Believe me, sir, when I say...." He was mark<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>ing time, unhappy +gentleman, for with such phrases does the orator eke out his waning +substance. The lad listened in a critical, staring mood, and once or +twice nodded. While I was wondering how long he was going to put up +with it, presently he jerked his head back and showed Fowkes, by the +look he gave him, that he had had enough of him. The old lawyer knew +it for final, for he straightened his back, then his hat, touched the +brim and made a formal bow. "I leave it so, sir," he said; "I am +content to leave it so;" and then, with every mark of respect, he went +his way into Bedford Row. I noticed that he walked on tiptoe for some +yards, and then more quickly, flapping his arms to his sides.</p> + +<p>The boy stood thoughtful where he was, communing by the looks of him +quite otherwhere, and I had the opportunity to consider him. He +appeared to be a handsome, well-built lad of fifteen or so, big for +his age, and precocious. By that I mean that his scrutiny of life was +mature; that he looked capable, far beyond the warrant of his years. +He was ruddy of complexion, freckled, and had a square chin. His eyes +were light grey, with dark lashes to them; they were startlingly light +and bright for such a sunburnt face, and seemed to glow in it like +steady fires. It was in them that resided, that sat, as it were, +enthroned, that mature, masterful ex<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>pression which I never saw before +or since in one so young. I have seen the eyes of children look as if +they were searching through our world into another; that is almost +habitual in children. But here was one, apparently a boy, who seemed +to read into our circumstances (as you or I into a well-studied book) +as though they held nothing inexplicable, nothing unaccounted for. +Beyond these singular two eyes of his, his smiling mouth, with its +reminder of archaic statuary, was perhaps his only noticeable feature. +He wore the ordinary uniform of a telegraphic messenger, which in +those days was grey, with a red line down the trousers and a belt for +the tunic. His boots were of the service pattern, so were his +ankle-jacks. His hands were not cleaner than they ought to have been, +his nails well bitten back. Such was he.</p> + +<p>Studying him closely over the top of my newspaper, by-and-by he fixed +me with his intent, bright eyes. My heart beat quicker; but when he +smiled—like the Pallas of Ægina—I smiled too. Then, without varying +his expression, even while he smiled upon me, he vanished.</p> + +<p>Vanished! There's no other word for it: he vanished; I did not see him +go; I don't know whether he went or where he went. At one moment he +was there, smiling at me, looking into my eyes; at the next moment he +was not there. That's all there is to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> say about it. I flashed a +glance through the gate into Bedford Row, another up to R—— +Buildings, and even ran to the corner which showed me the length and +breadth of Field Place. He was not gone any of these ways. These +things are certain.</p> + +<p>Now for the sequel. Mere fortune led me at four that afternoon into +Bedford Row. A note had been put into my hands at the Record Office +inviting me to call upon a client whose chambers were in that quarter, +and I complied with it directly my work was over. Now as I walked +along the Row, the boy of that morning's encounter was going into the +entry of the house in which Fowkes and Vizards have their offices. I +had just time to recognise him when the double knock announced his +errand. I stopped immediately; he delivered in a telegram and came +out. I was on the step. Whether he knew me or not he did not look his +knowledge. His eyes went through me, his smiling mouth did not smile +at me. My heart beat, I didn't know why; but I laughed and nodded. He +went his leisurely way and I watched him, this time, almost out of +sight. But while I stood so, watching, old Fowkes came bursting out of +his office, tears streaming down his face, the telegram in his hand. +"Where is he? Where is he?" This was addressed to me. I pointed the +way. Old Fowkes saw his benefactor (as I suppose him to have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> been) +and began to run. The lad turned round, saw him coming, waved him +away, and then—disappeared. Again he had done it; but old Fowkes, in +no way surprised, stood rooted to the pavement with his hands extended +so far toward the mystery that I could see two or three inches of bony +old wrist beyond his shirt-cuffs. After a while he turned and slowly +came back to his chambers. He seemed now not to see me; or he was +careless whether I saw him or not. As he entered the doorway he held +up the telegram, bent his head and laid a kiss upon the pink paper.</p> + +<p>But that is by no means all. Now I come, to the Richborough story, +which all London that is as old as I am remembers. That part of +London, it may be, will not read this book; or if it does, will not +object to the recall of a case which absorbed it in 1886-87. I am not +going to be indiscreet. The lady married, and the lady left England. +Moreover, naturally, I give no names; but if I did I don't see that +there is anything to be ashamed of in what she was pleased to do with +her hand and person. It was startling to us of those days, it might be +startling in these; what was more than startling was the manner in +which the thing was done. That is known to very few persons indeed.</p> + +<p>I had seen enough upon that April day, whose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> events form my prelude, +to give me remembrance of the handsome telegraph boy. The next time I +saw him, which was near midnight in July—the place Hyde Park—I knew +him at once.</p> + +<p>I had been sharing in Prince's Gate, with a dull company, an +interminable dinner, one of those at which you eat twice as much as +you intend, or desire, because there is really nothing else to do. On +one side of me I had had a dowager whom I entirely failed to interest, +on the other, a young person who only cared to talk with her left-hand +neighbour. There was a reception afterward to which I had to stop, so +that I could not make my escape till eleven or more. The night was +very hot and it had been raining; but such air as there was was balm +after the still furnace of the rooms. I decided immediately to walk to +my lodging in Camden Town, entered by Prince's Gate, crossed the +Serpentine Bridge and took a bee-line for the Marble Arch. It was +cloudy, but not at all dark. I could see all the ankle-high railings +which beset the unwary passenger and may at any moment break his legs +and his nose, imperil his dignity and ruin his hat. Dimly ahead of me, +upon a broad stretch of grass, I presently became aware of a +concourse. There was no sound to go by, and the light afforded me no +definite forms; the luminous haze was blurred; but certainly people +were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> there, a multitude of people. I was surprised, but not alarmed. +Save for an occasional wastrel of civilisation, incapable of +degradation and concerned only for sleep, the park is wont to be a +desert at that hour; but the hum of the traffic, the flashing cab +lamps, never quite out of sight, prevent fear. Far from being afraid I +was highly interested, and hastening my steps was soon on the +outskirts of a throng.</p> + +<p>A throng it certainly was, a large body of persons, male and female, +scattered yet held together by a common interest, loitering and +expectant, strangely silent, not concerned with each other, rarely in +couples, with all their faces turned one way—namely, to the +south-east, or (if you want precision) precisely to Hyde Park Corner. +I have remarked upon the silence: that was really surprising; so also +was the order observed, and what you may call decorum. There was no +ribaldry, no skylarking, no shrill discord of laughter without mirth +in it to break the solemnity of the gracious night. These people just +stood or squatted about; if any talked together it was in secret +whispers. It is true that they were under the watch of a tall +policeman; yet he too, I noticed, watched nobody, but looked steadily +to the south-east, with his lantern harmless at his belt. As my eyes +grew used to the gloom I observed that all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> ranks composed the +company. I made out the shell jacket, the waist and elongated limbs of +a life-guardsman, the open bosom of an able seaman. I happened upon a +young gentleman in the crush hat and Inverness of the current fashion; +I made certain of a woman of the pavement and of ladies of the +boudoir, of a hospital nurse, of a Greenwich pensioner, of two +flower-girls sitting on the edge of one basket, of a shoeblack (I +think), of a costermonger, and a nun. Others there were, and more than +one or two of most categories: in a word, there was an assembly.</p> + +<p>I accosted the policeman, who heard me civilly but without committing +himself. To my first question, what was going to happen? he carefully +answered that he couldn't say, but to my second, with the +irrepressible scorn of one who knows for one who wants to know, he +answered more frankly, "Who are they waiting for? Why, Quidnunc. +Mister Quidnunc. That's who it is. Him they call Quidnunc. So now you +know." In fact, I did not know. He had told me nothing, would tell me +no more, and while I stood pondering the oracle I was sensible of some +common movement run through the company with a thrill, unite them, +intensify them, draw them together to be one people with one faith, +one hope, one assurance. And then the nun, who stood near<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> me, fell to +her knees, crossed herself and began to pray; and not far off her a +slim girl in black turned aside and covered her face with her hands. A +perceptible shiver of emotion, a fluttering sigh such as steals over a +pine-wood toward dawn ran through all ranks. Far to the south-east a +speck of light now showed, which grew in intensity as it came swiftly +nearer, and seemed presently to be a ball of vivid fire surrounded by +a shroud of lit vapour. Again, as by a common consent, the crowd +parted, stood ranked, with an open lane between. The on-coming flare, +grown intolerably bright, now seemed to fade out as it resolved itself +into a human figure. A human figure at the entry of the lane of people +there undoubtedly was, a figure with so much light about him, raying +(I thought) from him, that it was easy to observe his form and +features. Out of the flame and radiant mist he grew, and showed +himself to me in the trim shape and semblance, with the small head and +alert air of a youth; and such as he was, in the belted tunic and +peaked cap of a telegraph messenger, he came smoothly down the lane +formed by the obsequious throng, and stood in the midst of it and +looked keenly, with his cold, clear eyes and fixed and inscrutable +smile, from one expectant face to another. There was no mistaking him +whom all those people so eagerly awaited; he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> was my former wonder of +Gray's Inn, the saviour of old Mr. Fowkes.</p> + +<p>But all my former wonder paled before this my latter. For he stood +here like some young Eastern king among his slaves, one hand on his +hip, the other at his chin, his face expressionless, his eyes fixed +but unblinking. Meantime, the crowd, which had stretched out arms to +him as he came, was now seated quietly on the grass, intently waiting, +watching for a sign. They sat, all those people, in a wide ring about +him; he was in the midst, a hand to his chin.</p> + +<p>Whether sign was made or not, I saw none; but after some moments of +pause a figure rose erect out of the ring and hobbled toward the boy. +I made out an old woman, an old wreck of womanhood, a scant-haired, +blue-lipped ruin of what had once been woman. I heard her snivel and +sniff and wheeze her "Lord ha' mercy" as she went by, slippering +forward on her miserable feet, hugging to her wasted sides what +remnant of gown she had, fawning before the boy, within the sphere of +light that came from him. If he loathed, or scorned, or pitied her, he +showed no sign; if he saw her at all his fixed eyes looked beyond her; +if he abhorred her, his nostrils did not betray him. He stood like +marble and suffered what followed. It was strange.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + +<p>Enacting what seemed to be a proper rite, she put her shaking left +hand upon his right shoulder, her right hand under his chin, as if to +cup it; and then, with sniffs and wailings interspersed, came her +petition to his merciful ears.</p> + +<p>What she precisely asked of him, muttering, wheezing, whining, +snivelling, as she did, repeating herself—with her burthen of "O +dear, O dear, O dear!"—I don't know. Her lost girl, her fine +up-standing girl, her Nance, her only one, figured in it as needing +mercy. Her "Oh, sir, I ask you kindly!" and "Oh, sir, for this once +...!" made me sick: yet he bore with her as she ran on, dribbling +tears and gin in a mingled flood; he bore with her, heard her in +silence, and in the end, by a look which I was not able to discover, +quieted and sent her shuffling back to her place. So soon as she was +down, the life-guardsman was on his feet, a fine figure of a man. He +marched unfalteringly up, stiffened, saluted, and then, observing the +ritual of hand to shoulder, hand to chin, spoke out his piece like the +honest fellow he was; spoke it aloud and without fear, evenly and +plainly. I thought that he had got it by heart, as I thought also of +another person I was to hear by-and-by. He wanted, badly it seemed, +news of his sweetheart, whom he was careful to call Miss Dixon. She +had last been heard of outside the Brixton Bon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> Marché, where she had +been seen with a lady friend, talking to "two young chaps" in +Volunteer uniform. They went up the Brixton Road toward Acre Lane, and +Miss Dixon, at any rate, was never heard of again. It was wearing him +out; he wasn't the man he had been, and had no zest for his meals. She +had never written; his letters to her had come back through the "Dead +Office." He thought he should go out of his mind sometimes; was afraid +to shave, not knowing what he might be after with "them things." If +anything could be done for him he should be thankful. Miss Dixon was +very well connected, and sang in a choir. Here he stopped, saluted, +turned and marched away into the night. I heard him pass a word or two +to the policeman, who turned aside and blew his nose. The hospital +nurse, who spoke in a feverish whisper, then a young woman from the +Piccadilly gas-lamps, who cried and rocked herself about, followed; +and then, to my extreme amazement, two ladies with cloaks and hoods +over evening gowns—one of them a Mrs. Stanhope, who was known to me. +The taller and younger lady, chaperoned by my friend, I did not +recognise. Her face was hidden by her hood.</p> + +<p>I was now more than interested, it seemed to me that I was, in a +sense, implicated. At any rate I felt very delicate about overhearing +what was to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> come. It is one thing to become absorbed in a ritual the +like of which, in mid-London, you can never have experienced before, +but quite another thing to listen to the secret desires of a friend in +whose house you may have dined within the month. However—by whatever +casuistries I might have compassed it—I did remain. Let me hope, nay, +let me believe of myself that if the postulant had proved to be my +friend, Mrs. Shrewton Stanhope, herself, I should either have stopped +my ears or immediately retired.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Stanhope, I saw at once, was no more than <i>dame de +compagnie</i>. She stood in mid-ring with bent head and hands clasped +before her while the graceful, hooded girl approached nearer to the +mysterious oracle and fulfilled the formal rites demanded of all who +sought his help. Her ringed left hand was laid upon his right +shoulder, her fair right hand upheld his chin. When she began to +speak, which she did immediately and without a tremor, again I had the +sensation of hearing one who had words by heart. This was her burden, +more or less. "I am very unhappy about a certain person. It is Captain +Maxfield. I am engaged to him, and want to break it off. I must do +that—I must indeed. If I don't I shall do a more dreadful thing. I do +hope you will help me. Mrs. ——, my friend, was sure that you would. I +do hope so. I am very unhappy."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> She had commanded her voice until the +very end; but as she pitied herself there came a break in it. I heard +her catch her breath; I thought she would fall,—and so did Mrs. +Stanhope, it was clear, for she went hurriedly forward and put an arm +round her waist. The younger lady drooped to her shoulder; Mrs. +Stanhope inclined her head to the person—not a sign from him, mind +you—and gently withdrew her charge from the ring. The pair then +hurried across the park in the direction of Knightsbridge, and left +me, I may admit, consuming in the fire of curiosity and excitement +which they had lit.</p> + +<p>Petitions succeeded, of various interest, but they seemed pale and +ineffectual to me. Before all or nearly all of the waiting throng had +been heard I saw uneasiness spread about it. Face turned to face, head +to head; subtle but unmistakable movements indicated unrest. Then, of +the suddenest, amid lifted hands and sighed-forth prayers the youthful +object of so much entreaty, receiver of so many secret sorrows, seemed +to fade and, without effort, to recede. I know not how else to +describe his departure. He backed away, as it were, into the dark. The +people were on their feet ere this. Sighs, wailing, appeals, sobs, +adjurations broke the quietness of the night. Some ran stumbling after +him with extended arms; most of them stayed where they were, watching +him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> fade, hoping against hope. He emptied himself, so to speak, of +light; he faded backward, diminishing himself to a luminous glow, to a +blur, to a point of light. Thus he was gone. The disappointed crept +silently away, each into silence, solitude and the night, and I found +myself alone with the policeman.</p> + +<p>Now, what in the name of God was all this? I asked him, and must have +it. He gave me some particulars, admitting at the outset that it was a +"go." "They seem to think," he said, "that they will get what they +want out of him—by wire. Let him bring them a wire in the morning; +that's the way of it. Anything in life, from sudden death to a +penn'orth of bird-seed. Death! Ah, I've heard 'em cringe to him for +death, times and again. They crawl for it—they must have it. Can't do +it theirselves, d'ye see? No, no. Let him do it—somehow. Once a week, +during the season—his season, I should say, because he ain't here +always, by no means—they gets about like this; and how they know +where to spot him is more than I can tell you. If I knew it, I +would—but I don't. Nobody knows that—and yet they know it. Sometimes +he's to be found here two weeks running; then it'll be the Regent's +Park, or the Knoll in the Green Park. He's had 'em all the way to +Hampstead before now, and Primrose Hill's a likely place, they tell +me. Telegrams: that's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> what he gives 'em—if he's got the mind. But +they don't get all they want, not by no means. And some of 'em gets +more than they want, by a lot." He thought, then chuckled at a rather +grim instance.</p> + +<p>"Why, there was old Jack Withers, 'blue-nosed Jack' they calls him, +who works a Hammersmith 'bus! Did you ever hear of that? That was a +good one, if you like. Now you listen. This Jack was coming up the +Brompton Road on his 'bus—and I was on duty by the Boltons and see +him coming. There was that young feller there too—him we've just had +here—standing quiet by a pillar-box, reading a letter. One foot he +had in the roadway, and his back to the 'bus. Up comes old Jack, +pushing his horses, and sees the boy. Gives a great howl like a +tom-cat. 'Hi! you young frog-spawn,' he says, 'out of my road,' and +startled the lad. I see him look up at Jack very steady, and keep his +eye on him. I thought to myself, 'There's something to pay on +delivery, my boy, for this here.' Jack owned up to it afterwards that +he felt queer, but he forgot about it. Now, if you'll believe me, sir, +the very next morning Jack was at London Bridge after his second +journey, when up comes this boy, sauntering into the yard. Comes up to +Jack and nods. 'Name of Withers?' he says. 'That's me,' says old Jack. +'Thought so,' he says. 'Telegram for you.' Jack<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> takes it, opens it, +goes all white. 'Good God!' he says; 'good God Almighty! My wife's +dead!' She'd been knocked down by a Pickford that morning, sure as a +gun. What do you think of that for a start?</p> + +<p>"He served Spotty Smith the fried-eel man just the very same, and lots +more I could tell you about. They call him Quidnunc—Mister Quidnunc, +too, and don't you forget it. There's that about him I—well, sir, if +it was to come to it that I had to lay a hand on him for something out +of Queer Street I shouldn't know how to do it. Now I'm telling you a +fact. I shouldn't—know—how—to—do it."</p> + +<p>He was not, obviously, telling me a fact, but certainly he was much in +earnest. I commented upon the diversity of the company, and so learned +the name of my friend Mrs. Stanhope's friend. He clacked his tongue. +"Bless you," he said, "I've seen better than to-night, though we did +have a slap-up ladyship and all. That was Lady Emily Rich, that young +thing was, Earl of Richborough's family—Grosvenor Place. But we had a +Duchess or something here one night—ah, and a Bishop another, a Lord +Bishop. You'd never believe the tales we hear. He's known to every +night-constable from Woolwich to Putney Bridge—and the company he +gets about him you'd never believe. High and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> low, and all huddled +together like so many babes in a nursing-home. No distinction. You saw +old Mother Misery get first look-in to-night? My lady waited her turn, +like a good girl!" His voice sank to a whisper. "They tell me he's the +only living soul—if he <i>is</i> a living soul—that's ever been inside +the Stock Exchange and come out tidy. He goes and comes in as he +likes—quite the Little Stranger. They all know him in Throgmorton +Street. No, no. There's more in this than meets the eye, sir. He's not +like you and me. But it's no business of mine. He don't go down in my +pocket-book, I can tell you. I keep out of his way—and with reason. +He never did no harm to me, nor shan't if I can help it. Quidnunc! +Mister Quidnunc! He might be a herald angel for all I know."</p> + +<p>I went my way home and to bed, but was not done with Quidnunc.</p> + +<p>The next day, which was the first day of the Eton and Harrow Match, I +read a short paragraph in the <i>Echo</i>, headed "Painful Scene at +Lord's," to the effect that a lady lunching on Lord Richborough's drag +had fainted upon the receipt of a telegram, and would have fallen had +she not been caught by the messenger—"a strongly built youth," it +said, "who thus saved what might have been a serious accident." That +was all, but it gave me food for thought, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> a suspicion which +Saturday confirmed in a sufficiently startling way. On that Saturday I +was at luncheon in the First Avenue Hotel in Holborn, when a man came +in—Tendring by name—whom I knew quite well. We exchanged greetings +and sat at our luncheon, talking desultorily. A clerk from his office +brought in a telegram for Tendring. He opened it and seemed +thunder-struck. "Good Lord!" I heard him say. "Good Lord, here's +trouble." I murmured sympathetically, and then he turned to me, quite +beyond the range where reticence avails. "Look here," he said, "this +is a shocking business. A man I know wires to me—from Bow Street. +He's been taken for forgery—that's the charge—and wants me to bail +him out." He got up as we finished and went to write his reply: I +turned immediately to the clerk. "Is the boy waiting?" I asked. He +was. I said "Excuse me, Tendring," and ran out of the restaurant to +the street door. There in the street, as I had suspected, stood my +inscrutable, steady-eyed, smiling Oracle of the night. I stood, +meeting his look as best I might. He showed no recognition of me +whatsoever. Then, as I stood there, Tendring came out. "Call me a +cab," he told the hall-porter; and to Quidnunc he said, "There's no +answer. I'm going at once." Quidnunc went away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now Tendring's friend, I learned by the evening paper, was one Captain +Maxfield of the Royal Engineers. He was committed for trial, bail +refused. I may add that he got seven years.</p> + +<p>So much for Captain Maxfield! But much more for Lady Emily Rich, of +whose fate I have now to tell. My friend, Mrs. Shrewton Stanhope, was +very reserved, would tell me nothing, even when I roundly said that I +had fancied to see her in the park one evening. She had the hardihood +to meet my eyes with a blank denial, and very plainly there was +nothing to be learned from her. A visit, many visits to the London +parks at the hour between eleven and midnight taught me no more; but +being by now thoroughly interested in the affairs of Lady Emily Rich I +made it my business to get a glimpse of her. She was, it seemed, the +only unmarried daughter of the large Richborough family which had done +so well in that sex, and so badly in the other that there was not only +no son, but no male heir to the title. That, indeed, expired with Lady +Emily's father. I don't really know how many daughters there were, or +were not. Most of them married prosperously. One of them became a +Roman princess; one married a Mr. Walker, an American stock-jobber +(with a couple of millions of money); another was Baroness de +Grass—De Grass being a Jew; one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> became an Anglican nun to the +disgust (I was told) of her family. Lady Emily, whose engagement to +the wretched Maxfield was so dramatically terminated was, I think, the +youngest of them. I saw her one night toward the end of the season at +the Opera. Tendring, who was with me, pointed her out in a box. She +was dressed in black and looked very scared. She hardly moved once +throughout the evening, and when people spoke to her seemed not to +hear. She was certainly a very pretty girl. It may have been fancy, or +it may not, but I could have sworn to the corner of a pinky-brown +envelope sticking out of the bosom of her dress. I don't think I was +mistaken; I had a good look through the glasses. She touched it +shortly afterward and poked it down. At the end I saw her come out. A +tall girl, rather thin; very pretty certainly, but far from well. Her +eyes haunted me; they had what is called a hag-ridden look. And yet, +thought I, she had got her desire of Quidnunc. Ah, but had she? Hear +the end of the tale.</p> + +<p>I say that I saw her come out, that's not quite true. I saw her come +down the staircase and stand with her party in the crowded lobby. She +stood in it, but not of it; for her vague and shadowed eyes sought +otherwhere than in those of the neat-haired young man who was +chattering in front of her. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> scanned, rather, the throng of people +anxiously and guardedly at once, as if she was looking for somebody, +and must not be seen to look. As time wore on and the carriage +delayed, her nervousness increased. She seemed to get paler, she shut +her eyes once or twice as though to relieve the strain which watching +and waiting put upon them, and then, quite suddenly, I saw that she +had found what she expected; I saw that her empty eyes were now +filled, that they held something without which they had faded out. In +a word, I saw her look fixedly, fiercely and certainly at something +beyond the lobby. Following the direction she gave me, I looked also. +There, assuredly, in the portico, square, smiling and assured of his +will, I saw Quidnunc stand, and his light eyes upon hers. For quite a +space of time, such as that in which you might count fifteen +deliberately, those two looked at each other. Messages, I am sure, +sped to and fro between them. His seemed to say, "Come, I have +answered you. Now do you answer me." Hers cried her hurt, "Ah, but +what can I do?" His, with their cool mastery of time and occasion, +"You must do as I bid you. There's no other way." Hers pleaded, "Give +me time," and his told her sternly, "I am master of time—since I made +it." The throng of waiting people began to surge toward the door; out +there in the night link-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>boys yelled great names. I heard "Lord +Richborough's carriage," and saw Lady Emily clap her hand to her side. +I saw her reach the portico and stand there hastily covering her head +with a black scarf; I saw her sway alone there. I saw her party go +down the steps. The next moment Quidnunc flashed to her side. He said +nothing, he did not touch her. He simply looked at her—intently, +smiling, self-possessed, a master. Her face was averted; I could see +her tremble; she bowed her head. Another carriage was announced—the +Richborough coach then was gone. I saw Quidnunc now put his hand upon +her arm; she turned him her face, a faint and tender smile, very +beautiful and touching, met his own. He drew her with him out of the +press and into the burning dark. London never saw her again.</p> + +<p>I don't attempt to explain what is to me inexplicable. Was my +policeman right when he called Quidnunc a herald angel? Is there any +substance behind the surmise that the ancient gods still sway the +souls and bodies of men? Was Quidnunc, that swift, remorseless, +smiling messenger, that god of the winged feet? The Argeïphont? Who +can answer these things? All I have to tell you by way of an epilogue +is this.</p> + +<p>A curate of my acquaintance, a curate of St. Peter's, Eaton Square, +some few years after these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> events, took his holiday in Greece. He +went out as one of a tourist party, but having more time at his +disposal than was contemplated by the contracting agency, he stayed +on, chartered a dragoman and wandered far and wide. On his return he +told me that he had seen Lady Emily Rich at Pheræ in Arcadia, and that +he had spoken to her. He had seen her sitting on the door-step of a +one-storied white house, spinning flax. She wore the costume of the +peasants, which he told me is very picturesque. Two or three +half-naked children tumbled about her. They were beautiful as angels, +he said, with curly golden hair and extremely light eyes. He noticed +that particularly, and recurred to it more than once. Now Lady Emily +was a dark girl, with eyes so deeply blue as to be almost black.</p> + +<p>My friend spoke to her, he said. He had seen that she recognised him; +in fact, she bowed to him. He felt that he could not disregard her. +Mere commonplaces were exchanged. She told him that her husband was +away on a journey. She fancied that he had been in England; but she +explained half-laughingly that she knew very little about his affairs, +and was quite content to leave them to him. She had her children to +look after. My friend was surprised that she asked no question of +England or family matters; but, in the circumstances, he added,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> he +hardly liked to refer to them. She served him with bread and wine +before he left her. All he could say was that she appeared to be +perfectly happy.</p> + +<p>It is odd, and perhaps it is more than odd, that there was a famous +temple of Hermes in Pheræ in former times. Pindar, I believe, +acclaimed it in one of his Epinikean odes; but I have not been able to +verify the reference.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_SECRET_COMMONWEALTH" id="THE_SECRET_COMMONWEALTH"></a>THE SECRET COMMONWEALTH</h2> + + +<p>The interest of my matter has caused me to lose sight of myself and to +fail in my account of the flight of time over my head. That is, +however, comparable with the facts, which were that my attention was +then become solely objective. I had other things to think of than the +development of my own nature. I had other things to think of, indeed, +than those which surround us all, and press upon us until we become +permanently printed by their contact. Solitary as I had ever been in +mind, I now became literally so by choice. I became wholly absorbed in +that circumambient world of being which was graciously opening itself +to my perceptions—how I knew not. I was in a state of momentary +expectation of apparitions; as I went about my ostensible business I +had my ears quick and my eyes wide for signs and tokens that I was +surrounded by a seething and whirling invisible population of beings, +like ourselves, but glorified: yet unlike ourselves in this, that what +seemed entirely right, because natural, to them would have been in +ourselves horrible. The ruthlessness,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> for instance, of Quidnunc as he +pursued and obtained his desire, had Quidnunc been a human creature, +would have been revolting; the shamelessness of the fairy wife of +Ventris had she been capable of shame, how shameful had that been! But +I knew that these creatures were not human; I knew that they were not +under our law; and so I explained everything to myself. But to myself +only. It is not enough to explain a circumstance by negatives. If +Quidnunc and Mrs. Ventris were not under our law, neither are the sun, +moon and stars, neither are the apes and peacocks. But all these are +under some law, since law is the essence of the Kosmos. Under what law +then were Mrs. Ventris and Quidnunc? I burned to know that. For many +years of my life that knowledge was my steady desire; but I had no +means at hand of satisfying it. Reading? Well, I did read in a +fashion. I read, for example, Grimm's <i>Teutonic Mythology</i>, a stout +and exceedingly dull work in three volumes of a most unsatisfying +kind. I read other books of the same sort, chiefly German, dealing in +etymology, which I readily allow is a science of great value within +its proper sphere. But to Grimm and his colleagues etymology seemed to +me to be the contents of the casket rather than the key; for Grimm and +his colleagues started with a prejudice, that Gods, fairies and the +rest have never existed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> and don't exist. To them the interest of the +inquiry is not what is the nature, what are the laws of such beings, +but what is the nature of the primitive people who imagined the +existence of such beings? I very soon found out that Grimm and his +colleagues had nothing to tell me.</p> + +<p>Then there was another class of book; that which dealt in demonology +and witchcraft, exemplified by a famous work called <i>Satan's Invisible +World Discovered</i>. Writers of these things may or may not have +believed in witches and fairies (which they classed together); but in +any event they believed them to be wicked, the abomination of +uncleanness. That made them false witnesses. My judgment revolted +against such ridiculous assumptions. Here was a case, you see, where +writers treated their subject too seriously, having the pulpit-cushion +ever below their hand, and the fear of the Ordinary before their +eyes.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> Grimm and his friends, on the other hand, took it too +lightly, seeing in it matter for a treatise on language. I got no good +out of either school, and as time goes on I don't see a prospect of +any adequate handling of the theme. I should like to think that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>I +myself was to be the man to expound the fairy-kind candidly and +methodically—candidly, that is, without going to literature for my +data, and with the notion definitely out of mind that the fairy +God-mother ever existed. But I shall never be that man, for though I +am candid to the point of weakness, I am not to flatter myself that I +have method. But to whomsoever he may be that undertakes the subject I +can promise that the documents await their historian, and I will +furnish him with a title which will indicate at a glance both the +spirit of his attack and the nature of his treatise.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> The Reverend Robert Kirk, author of the <i>Secret +Commonwealth</i>, was a clergyman and a believer in the beings of whom +his book professed to treat. He found them a place in his Pantheon; +but he knew very little about them. I shall have to speak of him again +I expect. He is himself an object-lesson, though his teachings are +naught.</p></div></div> + +<p>"The Natural History of the Præternatural" it should be. I make him a +present of that—the only possible line for a sincere student. God go +with him whosoever he be, for he will have rare qualities and rare +need of them. He must be cheerful without assumption, respectful +without tragic airs, as respectable as he please in the eyes of his +own law, so that he finds respect in his heart also for the laws of +the realm in which he is privileged to trade. Let him not stand, as +the priest in the Orthodox Church, a looming hierophant. Let him avoid +any rhetorical pose, any hint of the grand manner. Above all, let him +not wear the smirk of the conjuror when he prepares with flourishes to +whip the handkerchief away from his guinea-pig. Here is one who +con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>descends to reader and subject alike. He would do harm all round: +moreover he would be a quack, for he is just as much of a quack who +makes little of much as he who makes much of little. No! Let his +attitude be that of the contadino in some vast church in Italy, who +walking into the cool dark gazes round-eyed at the twinkling candles +ahead of him in the vague, and that he may recover himself a little +leans against a pillar for a while, his hat against his heart and his +lips muttering an Ave. Reassured by his prayer, or the peace of the +great place, he presently espies the sacristan about to uncover a +picture not often shown. Here is an occasion! The tourists are +gathered, intent upon their Baedekers; he tiptoes up behind them and +kneels by another pillar—for the pillars of a church are his friendly +rocks, touching which he can face the unknown. The curtain is brailed +up, and the blue and crimson, the mournful eyes, the wimple, the +pointed chin, the long idle fingers are revealed upon their golden +background. While the girls flock about papa with his book, and mamma +wonders where we shall have luncheon, Annibale, assured familiar of +Heaven, beatified at no expense to himself, settles down to a quiet +talk with the Mother of God. His attitude is perfect, and so is hers. +The firmament is not to be shaken, but Annibale is not a <i>farceur</i>, +nor his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> Blessed One absurd. Mysteries are all about us. Some are for +the eschatologist and some for the shepherd; some for Patmos and some +for the <i>podere</i>. Let our historian remember, in fact, that the +natures into which he invites us to pry are those of the little +divinities of earth and he can't go very far wrong. Nor can we.</p> + +<p>That, I am bold to confess, is my own attitude toward a lovely order +of creation. Perhaps I may go on to give him certain hints of +treatment. Nearly all of them, I think, tend to the same point—the +discarding of literature. Literature, being a man's art, is at its +best and also at its worst, in its dealing with women. No man, +perhaps, is capable of writing of women as they really are, though +every man thinks he is. A curious consequence to the history of +fairies has been that literature has recognised no males in that +community, and that of the females it has described it has selected +only those who are enamoured of men or disinclined to them. The fact, +of course, is that the fairy world is peopled very much as our own, +and that, with great respect to Shakespeare, an Ariel, a Puck, a +Titania, a Peas-blossom are abnormal. It is as rare to find a fairy +capable of discerning man as the converse is rare. I have known a +person intensely aware of the Spirits that reside, for instance, in +flowers, in the wind, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> rivers and hills, none the less bereft of +any intercourse whatever with these interesting beings by the simple +fact that they themselves were perfectly unconscious of him. It is +greatly to be doubted whether Shakespeare ever saw a fairy, though his +age believed in fairies, but almost certain that Shelley must have +seen many, whose age did not believe. If our author is to have a +poetical guide at all it had better be Shelley.</p> + +<p>Literature will tell him that fairies are benevolent or mischievous, +and tradition, borrowing from literature, will confirm it. The +proposition is ridiculous. It would be as wise to say that a gnat is +mischievous when it stings you, or a bee benevolent because he cannot +prevent you stealing his honey. There would be less talk of benevolent +bees if the gloves were off. That is the pathetic fallacy again; and +that is man all over. Will nothing, I wonder, convince him that he is +not the centre of the Universe? If Darwin, Newton, Galileo, Copernicus +and Sir Norman Lockyer have failed, is it my turn to try? Modesty +forbids. Besides, I am prejudiced. I think man, in the conduct of his +business, inferior to any vegetable. I am a tainted source. But such +talk is idle, and so is that which cries havoc upon fairy morality. +Heaven knows that it differs from our own; but Heaven also knows that +our own dif<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>fers <i>inter nos</i>; and that to discuss the customs and +habits of the Japanese in British parlours is a vain thing. <i>The +Forsaken Merman</i> is a beautiful poem, but not a safe guide to those +who would relate the ways of the spirits of the sea. But all this is +leading me too far from my present affair, which is to relate how the +knowledge of these things—of these beings and of their laws—came +upon me, and how their nature influenced mine. I have said enough, I +think, to establish the necessity of a good book upon the subject, and +I take leave to flatter myself that these pages of my own will be +indispensable Prolegomena to any such work, or to any research tending +to its compilation.</p> + +<p>In the absence of books, in the situation in which I found myself of +reticence, I could do nothing but brood upon the things I had seen. +Insensibly my imagination (latent while I had been occupied with +observation) began to work. I did not write, but I pictured, and my +waking dreams became so vivid that I was in a fair way to treat them +as the only reality, and might have discarded the workaday world +altogether. Luckily for me, my disposition was tractable and +law-abiding. I fulfilled by habit the duties of the day; I toiled at +my dreary work, ate and slept, wrote to my parents, visited them, +having got those tasks as it were by heart, but I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> went through the +rites like an automaton; my mind was elsewhere, intensely dogging the +heels of that winged steed, my fancy, panting in its tracks, and +perfectly content so only that it did not come up too late to witness +the glories which its bold flights discovered. Thanks to it—all +thanks to it—I did not become a nympholept. I did not haunt +Parliament Hill o' nights. I did not spy upon the darkling motions of +Mrs. Ventris. Desire, appetite, sex were not involved at all in this +affair; nor yet was love. I was very prone to love, but I did not love +Mrs. Ventris. In whatsoever fairy being I had seen there had been +nothing which held physical attraction for me. There could be no +allure when there was no lure. So far as I could tell, not one of +these creatures—except Quidnunc, and possibly the Dryad, the sun-dyed +nymph I had seen long ago in K—— Park—had been aware of my +presence. I guessed, though I did not know (as I do now) that +manifestation is not always mutual, but that a man may see a fairy +without being seen, and conversely, a fairy may be fully aware of +mankind or of some man or men without any suspicion of theirs. +Moreover, though I saw them all extraordinarily beautiful, I had never +yet seen one supremely desirable. The instinct to possess, which is an +essential part of the love-passion of every man—had never stirred in +me in the presence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> of these creatures. If it had I should have +yielded to it, I doubt not, since there was no moral law to hold me +back. But it never had, so far, and I was safe from the wasting misery +of seeking that which could not, from its very nature (and mine) be +sought.</p> + +<p>There was really nothing I could do, therefore, but wait, and that is +what I did. I waited intensely, very much as a terrier waits at the +hole of the bolting rabbit. By the merest accident I got a clew to a +very interesting case which added enormously to my knowledge. It was a +clear case of fairy child-theft, the clearest I ever met with. I shall +devote a chapter to it, having been at the pains to verify it in all +particulars. I did not succeed in meeting the hero, or victim of it, +because, though the events related took place in 1887, they were not +recorded until 1892, when the record came into my hands. By that time +the two persons concerned had left the country and were settled in +Florida. I did see Mr. Walsh, the Nonconformist Minister who +communicated the tale to his local society, but he was both a dull and +a cautious man, and had very little to tell me. He had himself seen +nothing, he only had Beckwith's word to go upon and did not feel +certain that the whole affair was not an hallucination on the young +man's part. That the child had disappeared was certain, that both +parents were equally distressed is certain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> Not a shred of suspicion +attached to the unhappy Beckwith. But Mr. Walsh told me that he felt +the loss so keenly and blamed himself so severely, though +unreasonably, to my thinking, that it would have been impossible for +him to remain in England. He said that the full statement communicated +to the Field Club was considered by the young man in the light of a +confession of his share in the tragedy. It would, he said, have been +exorbitant to expect more of him. And I quite agree with him; and now +had better give the story as I found it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="BECKWITHS_CASE" id="BECKWITHS_CASE"></a>BECKWITH'S CASE</h2> + + +<p>The facts were as follows. Mr. Stephen Mortimer Beckwith was a young +man living at Wishford in the Amesbury district of Wiltshire. He was a +clerk in the Wilts and Dorset Bank at Salisbury, was married and had +one child. His age at the time of the experience here related was +twenty-eight. His health was excellent.</p> + +<p>On the 30th November, 1887, at about ten o'clock at night, he was +returning home from Amesbury where he had been spending the evening at +a friend's house. The weather was mild, with a rain-bearing wind +blowing in squalls from the south-west. It was three-quarter moon that +night, and although the sky was frequently overcast it was at no time +dark. Mr. Beckwith, who was riding a bicycle and accompanied by his +fox-terrier Strap, states that he had no difficulty in seeing and +avoiding the stones cast down at intervals by the road-menders; that +flocks of sheep in the hollows were very visible, and that, passing +Wilsford House, he saw a barn owl quite plainly and remarked its +heavy, uneven flight.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> + +<p>A mile beyond Wilsford House, Strap, the dog, broke through the +quick-set hedge upon his right-hand side and ran yelping up the down, +which rises sharply just there. Mr. Beckwith, who imagined that he was +after a hare, whistled him in, presently calling him sharply, "Strap, +Strap, come out of it." The dog took no notice, but ran directly to a +clump of gorse and bramble half-way up the down, and stood there in +the attitude of a pointer, with uplifted paw, watching the gorse +intently, and whining. Mr. Beckwith was by this time dismounted, +observing the dog. He watched him for some minutes from the road. The +moon was bright, the sky at the moment free from cloud.</p> + +<p>He himself could see nothing in the gorse, though the dog was +undoubtedly in a high state of excitement. It made frequent rushes +forward, but stopped short of the object that it saw and trembled. It +did not bark outright but rather whimpered—"a curious, shuddering, +crying noise," says Mr. Beckwith. Interested by the animal's +persistent and singular behaviour, he now sought a gap in the hedge, +went through on to the down, and approached the clumped bushes. Strap +was so much occupied that he barely noticed his master's coming; it +seemed as if he dared not take his eyes for one second from what he +saw in there.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> + +<p>Beckwith, standing behind the dog, looked into the gorse. From the +distance at which he still stood he could see nothing at all. His +belief then was that there was either a tramp in a drunken sleep, +possibly two tramps, or a hare caught in a wire, or possibly even a +fox. Having no stick with him he did not care, at first, to go any +nearer, and contented himself with urging on his terrier. This was not +very courageous of him, as he admits, and was quite unsuccessful. No +verbal excitations would draw Strap nearer to the furze-bush. Finally +the dog threw up his head, showed his master the white arcs of his +eyes and fairly howled at the moon. At this dismal sound Mr. Beckwith +owned himself alarmed. It was, as he describes it—though he is an +Englishman—"uncanny." The time, he owns, the aspect of the night, +loneliness of the spot (midway up the steep slope of a chalk down), +the mysterious shroud of darkness upon shadowed and distant objects +and flood of white light upon the foreground—all these circumstances +worked upon his imagination.</p> + +<p>He was indeed for retreat; but here Strap was of a different mind. +Nothing would excite him to advance, but nothing either could induce +him to retire. Whatever he saw in the furze-bush Strap must continue +to observe. In the face of this Beckwith summoned up his courage, took +it in both hands and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> went much nearer to the furze-bushes, much +nearer, that is, than Strap the terrier could bring himself to go. +Then, he tells us, he did see a pair of bright eyes far in the +thicket, which seemed to be fixed upon his, and by degrees also a pale +and troubled face. Here, then, was neither fox nor drunken tramp, but +some human creature, man, woman, or child, fully aware of him and of +the dog.</p> + +<p>Beckwith, who now had surer command of his feelings, spoke aloud +asking, "What are you doing there? What's the matter?" He had no +reply. He went one pace nearer, being still on his guard, and spoke +again. "I won't hurt you," he said. "Tell me what the matter is." The +eyes remained unwinkingly fixed upon his own. No movement of the +features could be discerned. The face, as he could now make it out, +was very small—"about as big as a big wax doll's," he says, "of a +longish oval, very pale." He adds, "I could see its neck now, no +thicker than my wrist; and where its clothes began. I couldn't see any +arms, for a good reason. I found out afterward that they had been +bound behind its back. I should have said immediately, 'That's a girl +in there,' if it had not been for one or two plain considerations. It +had not the size of what we call a girl, nor the face of what we mean +by a child. It was, in fact, neither fish, flesh, nor fowl. Strap had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +known that from the beginning, and now I was of Strap's opinion +myself."</p> + +<p>Advancing with care, a step at a time, Beckwith presently found +himself within touching distance of the creature. He was now standing +with furze half-way up his calves, right above it, stooping to look +closely at it; and as he stooped and moved, now this way, now that, to +get a clearer view, so the crouching thing's eyes gazed up to meet +his, and followed them about, as if safety lay only in that +never-shifting, fixed regard. He had noticed, and states in his +narrative, that Strap had seemed quite unable, in the same way, to +take his eyes off the creature for a single second.</p> + +<p>He could now see that, of whatever nature it might be, it was, in form +and features, most exactly a young woman. The features, for instance, +were regular and fine. He remarks in particular upon the chin. All +about its face, narrowing the oval of it, fell dark glossy curtains of +hair, very straight and glistening with wet. Its garment was cut in a +plain circle round the neck, and short off at the shoulders, leaving +the arms entirely bare. This garment, shift, smock or gown, as he +indifferently calls it, appeared thin, and was found afterward to be +of a grey colour, soft and clinging to the shape. It was made loose, +however, and gathered in at the waist. He could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> not see the +creature's legs, as they were tucked under her. Her arms, it has been +related, were behind her back. The only other things to be remarked +upon were the strange stillness of one who was plainly suffering, and +might well be alarmed, and appearance of expectancy, a dumb appeal; +what he himself calls rather well "an ignorant sort of impatience, +like that of a sick animal."</p> + +<p>"Come," Beckwith now said, "let me help you up. You will get cold if +you sit here. Give me your hand, will you?" She neither spoke nor +moved; simply continued to search his eyes. Strap, meantime, was still +trembling and whining. But now, when he stooped yet lower to take her +forcibly by the arms, she shrank back a little way and turned her +head, and he saw to his horror that she had a great open wound in the +side of her neck—from which, however, no blood was issuing. Yet it +was clearly a fresh wound, recently made.</p> + +<p>He was greatly shocked. "Good God," he said, "there's been foul play +here," and whipped out his handkerchief. Kneeling, he wound it several +times round her slender throat and knotted it as tightly as he could; +then, without more ado, he took her up in his arms, under the knees +and round the middle, and carried her down the slope to the road. He +describes her as of no weight at all. He says it was "exactly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> like +carrying an armful of feathers about." "I took her down the hill and +through the hedge at the bottom as if she had been a pillow."</p> + +<p>Here it was that he discovered that her wrists were bound together +behind her back with a kind of plait of thongs so intricate that he +was quite unable to release them. He felt his pockets for his knife, +but could not find it, and then recollected suddenly that he should +have a new one with him, the third prize in a whist tournament in +which he had taken part that evening. He found it wrapped in paper in +his overcoat pocket, with it cut the thongs and set the little +creature free. She immediately responded—the first sign of animation +which she had displayed—by throwing both her arms about his body and +clinging to him in an ecstasy. Holding him so that, as he says, he +felt the shuddering go all through her, she suddenly lowered her head +and touched his wrist with her cheek. He says that instead of being +cold to the touch, "like a fish," as she had seemed to be when he +first took her out of the furze, she was now "as warm as a toast, like +a child."</p> + +<p>So far he had put her down for "a foreigner," convenient term for +defining something which you do not quite understand. She had none of +his language, evidently; she was undersized, some three feet six<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +inches by the look of her,<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> and yet perfectly proportioned. She was +most curiously dressed in a frock cut to the knee, and actually in +nothing else at all. It left her bare-legged and bare-armed, and was +made, as he puts it himself, of stuff like cobweb: "those dusty, +drooping kind which you put on your finger to stop bleeding." He could +not recognise the web, but was sure that it was neither linen nor +cotton. It seemed to stick to her body wherever it touched a prominent +part: "you could see very well, to say nothing of feeling, that she +was well made and well nourished." She ought, as he judged, to be a +child of five years old, "and a feather-weight at that"; but he felt +certain that she must be "much more like sixteen." It was that, I +gather, which made him suspect her of being something outside +experience. So far, then, it was safe to call her a foreigner: but he +was not yet at the end of his discoveries.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Her exact measurements are stated to have been as +follows: height from crown to sole, 3 feet 5 inches. Round waist, 15 +inches; round bust, 21 inches; round wrist, 3-1/2 inches; round neck, +7-1/2 inches.</p></div></div> + +<p>Heavy footsteps, coming from the direction of Wishford, in due time +proved to be those of Police Constable Gulliver, a neighbour of +Beckwith's and guardian of the peace in his own village. He lifted his +lantern to flash it into the traveller's eyes, and dropped it again +with a pleasant "good evening."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p><p>He added that it was inclined to be showery, which was more than +true, as it was at the moment raining hard. With that, it seems, he +would have passed on.</p> + +<p>But Beckwith, whether smitten by self-consciousness of having been +seen with a young woman in his arms at a suspicious hour of the night +by the village policeman, or bursting perhaps with the importance of +his affair, detained Gulliver. "Just look at this," he said boldly. +"Here's a pretty thing to have found on a lonely road. Foul play +somewhere, I'm afraid," he then exhibited his burden to the lantern +light.</p> + +<p>To his extreme surprise, however, the constable, after exploring the +beam of light and all that it contained for some time in silence, +reached out his hand for the knife which Beckwith still held open. He +looked at it on both sides, examined the handle and gave it back. +"Foul play, Mr. Beckwith?" he said laughing. "Bless you, they use +bigger tools than that. That's just a toy, the like of that. Cut your +hand with it, though, already, I see." He must have noticed the +handkerchief, for as he spoke the light from his lantern shone full +upon the face and neck of the child, or creature, in the young man's +arms, so clearly that, looking down at it, Beckwith himself could see +the clear grey of its intensely watchful eyes, and the very pupils of +them, diminished to specks of black. It was now, therefore, plain to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +him that what he held was a foreigner indeed, since the parish +constable was unable to see it. Strap had smelt it, then seen it, and +he, Beckwith, had seen it; but it was invisible to Gulliver. "I felt +now," he says in his narrative, "that something was wrong. I did not +like the idea of taking it into the house; but I intended to make one +more trial before I made up my mind about that. I said good night to +Gulliver, put her on my bicycle and pushed her home. But first of all +I took the handkerchief from her neck and put it in my pocket. There +was no blood upon it, that I could see."</p> + +<p>His wife, as he had expected, was waiting at the gate for him. She +exclaimed, as he had expected, upon the lateness of the hour. Beckwith +stood for a little in the roadway before the house, explaining that +Strap had bolted up the hill and had had to be looked for and fetched +back. While speaking he noticed that Mrs. Beckwith was as insensible +to the creature on the bicycle as Gulliver the constable had been. +Indeed, she went much further to prove herself so than he, for she +actually put her hand upon the handle-bar of the machine, and in order +to do that drove it right through the centre of the girl crouching +there. Beckwith saw that done. "I declare solemnly upon my honour," he +writes, "that it was as if Mary had drilled a hole clean through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> the +middle of her back. Through gown and skin and bone and all her arm +went; and how it went I don't know. To me it seemed that her hand was +on the handle-bar, while her upper arm, to the elbow, was in between +the girl's shoulders. There was a gap from the elbow downwards where +Mary's arm was inside the body; then from the creature's diaphragm her +lower arm, wrist and hand came out. And all the time we were speaking +the girl's eyes were on my face. I was now quite determined that I +wouldn't have her in the house for a mint of money."</p> + +<p>He put her, finally, in the dog-kennel. Strap, as a favourite, lived +in the house; but he kept a greyhound in the garden, in a kennel +surrounded by a sort of run made of iron poles and galvanised wire. It +was roofed in with wire also, for the convenience of stretching a +tarpaulin in wet weather. Here it was that he bestowed the strange +being rescued from the down.</p> + +<p>It was clever, I think, of Beckwith to infer that what Strap had shown +respect for would be respected by the greyhound, and certainly bold of +him to act upon his inference. However, events proved that he had been +perfectly right. Bran, the greyhound, was interested, highly +interested in his guest. The moment he saw his master he saw what he +was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> carrying. "Quiet, Bran, quiet there," was a very unnecessary +adjuration. Bran stretched up his head and sniffed, but went no +further; and when Beckwith had placed his burden on the straw inside +the kennel, Bran lay down, as if on guard, outside the opening and put +his muzzle on his forepaws. Again Beckwith noticed that curious +appearance of the eyes which the fox-terrier's had made already. +Bran's eyes were turned upward to show the narrow arcs of white.</p> + +<p>Before he went to bed, he tells us, but not before Mrs. Beckwith had +gone there, he took out a bowl of bread and milk to his patient. Bran +he found to be still stretched out before the entry; the girl was +nestled down in the straw, as if asleep or prepared to be so, with her +face upon her hand. Upon an after-thought he went back for a clean +pocket handkerchief, warm water and a sponge. With these, by the light +of a candle, he washed the wound, dipped the rag in hazeline, and +applied it. This done, he touched the creature's head, nodded a good +night and retired. "She smiled at me very prettily," he says. "That +was the first time she did it."</p> + +<p>There was no blood on the handkerchief which he had removed.</p> + +<p>Early in the morning following upon the adventure Beckwith was out and +about. He wished to verify<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> the overnight experiences in the light of +refreshed intelligence. On approaching the kennel he saw at once that +it had been no dream. There, in fact, was the creature of his +discovery playing with Bran the greyhound, circling sedately about +him, weaving her arms, pointing her toes, arching her graceful neck, +stooping to him, as if inviting him to sport, darting away—"like a +fairy," says Beckwith, "at her magic, dancing in a ring." Bran, he +observed, made no effort to catch her, but crouched rather than sat, +as if ready to spring. He followed her about with his eyes as far as +he could; but when the course of her dance took her immediately behind +him he did not turn his head, but kept his eye fixed as far backward +as he could, against the moment when she should come again into the +scope of his vision. "It seemed as important to him as it had the day +before to Strap to keep her always in his eye. It seemed—and always +seemed so long as I could study them together—intensely important." +Bran's mouth was stretched to "a sort of grin"; occasionally he +panted. When Beckwith entered the kennel and touched the dog (which +took little notice of him) he found him trembling with excitement. His +heart was beating at a great rate. He also drank quantities of water.</p> + +<p>Beckwith, whose narrative, hitherto summarised, I may now quote, tells +us that the creature was in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>describably graceful and light-footed. +"You couldn't hear the fall of her foot: you never could. Her dancing +and circling about the cage seemed to be the most important business +of her life; she was always at it, especially in bright weather. I +shouldn't have called it restlessness so much as busyness. It really +seemed to mean more to her than exercise or irritation at confinement. +It was evident also that she was happy when so engaged. She used to +sing. She sang also when she was sitting still with Bran; but not with +such exhilaration.</p> + +<p>"Her eyes were bright—when she was dancing about—with mischief and +devilry. I cannot avoid that word, though it does not describe what I +really mean. She looked wild and outlandish and full of fun, as if she +knew that she was teasing the dog, and yet couldn't help herself. When +you say of a child that he looks wicked, you don't mean it literally; +it is rather a compliment than not. So it was with her and her +wickedness. She did look wicked, there's no mistake—able and willing +to do wickedly; but I am sure she never meant to hurt Bran. They were +always firm friends, though the dog knew very well who was master.</p> + +<p>"When you looked at her you did not think of her height. She was so +complete; as well made as a statuette. I could have spanned her waist +with my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> two thumbs and middle fingers, and her neck (very nearly) +with one hand. She was pale and inclined to be dusky in complexion, +but not so dark as a gipsy; she had grey eyes, and dark-brown hair, +which she could sit upon if she chose. Her gown you could have sworn +was made of cobweb; I don't know how else to describe it. As I had +suspected, she wore nothing else, for while I was there that first +morning, so soon as the sun came up over the hill she slipped it off +her and stood up dressed in nothing at all. She was a regular little +Venus—that's all I can say. I never could get accustomed to that +weakness of hers for slipping off her frock, though no doubt it was +very absurd. She had no sort of shame in it, so why on earth should I?</p> + +<p>"The food, I ought to mention, had disappeared: the bowl was empty. +But I know now that Bran must have had it. So long as she remained in +the kennel or about my place she never ate anything, nor drank either. +If she had I must have known it, as I used to clean the run out every +morning. I was always particular about that. I used to say that you +couldn't keep dogs too clean. But I tried her, unsuccessfully, with +all sorts of things: flowers, honey, dew—for I had read somewhere +that fairies drink dew and suck honey out of flowers. She used to look +at the little messes I made for her, and when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> she knew me better +would grimace at them, and look up in my face and laugh at me.</p> + +<p>"I have said that she used to sing sometimes. It was like nothing that +I can describe. Perhaps the wind in the telegraph wire comes nearest +to it, and yet that is an absurd comparison. I could never catch any +words; indeed I did not succeed in learning a single word of her +language. I doubt very much whether they have what we call a +language—I mean the people who are like her, her own people. They +communicate with each other, I fancy, as she did with my dogs, +inarticulately, but with perfect communication and understanding on +either side. When I began to teach her English I noticed that she had +a kind of pity for me, a kind of contempt perhaps is nearer the mark, +that I should be compelled to express myself in so clumsy a way. I am +no philosopher, but I imagine that our need of putting one word after +another may be due to our habit of thinking in sequence. If there is +no such thing as Time in the other world it should not be necessary +there to frame speech in sentences at all. I am sure that Thumbeline +(which was my name for her—I never learned her real name) spoke with +Bran and Strap in flashes which revealed her whole thought at once. So +also they answered her, there's no doubt. So also she contrived to +talk with my little girl, who,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> although she was four years old and a +great chatterbox, never attempted to say a single word of her own +language to Thumbeline, yet communicated with her by the hour +together. But I did not know anything of this for a month or more, +though it must have begun almost at once.</p> + +<p>"I blame myself for it, myself only. I ought, of course, to have +remembered that children are more likely to see fairies than +grown-ups; but then—why did Florrie keep it all secret? Why did she +not tell her mother, or me, that she had seen a fairy in Bran's +kennel? The child was as open as the day, yet she concealed her +knowledge from both of us without the least difficulty. She seemed the +same careless, laughing child she had always been; one could not have +supposed her to have a care in the world, and yet, for nearly six +months she must have been full of care, having daily secret +intercourse with Thumbeline and keeping her eyes open all the time +lest her mother or I should find her out. Certainly she could have +taught me something in the way of keeping secrets. I know that I kept +mine very badly, and blame myself more than enough for keeping it at +all. God knows what we might have been spared if, on the night I +brought her home, I had told Mary the whole truth! And yet—how could +I have convinced her that she was impaling some one with her arm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +while her hand rested on the bar of the bicycle? Is not that an +absurdity on the face of it? Yes, indeed; but the sequel is no +absurdity. That's the terrible fact.</p> + +<p>"I kept Thumbeline in the kennel for the whole winter. She seemed +happy enough there with the dogs, and, of course, she had had Florrie, +too, though I did not find that out until the spring. I don't doubt, +now, that if I had kept her in there altogether she would have been +perfectly contented.</p> + +<p>"The first time I saw Florrie with her I was amazed. It was a Sunday +morning. There was our four-year-old child standing at the wire, +pressing herself against it, and Thumbeline close to her. Their faces +almost touched; their fingers were interlaced; I am certain that they +were speaking to each other in their own fashion, by flashes, without +words. I watched them for a bit; I saw Bran come and sit up on his +haunches and join in. He looked from one to another, and all about; +and then he saw me.</p> + +<p>"Now that is how I know that they were all three in communication; +because, the very next moment, Florrie turned round and ran to me, and +said in her pretty baby-talk, 'Talking to Bran. Florrie talking to +Bran.' If this was wilful deceit it was most accomplished. It could +not have been better done. 'And who else were you talking to, +Florrie?' I said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> She fixed her round blue eyes upon me, as if in +wonder, then looked away and said shortly, 'No one else.' And I could +not get her to confess or admit then or at any time afterward that she +had any cognisance at all of the fairy in Bran's kennel, although +their communications were daily, and often lasted for hours at a time. +I don't know that it makes things any better, but I have thought +sometimes that the child believed me to be as insensible to Thumbeline +as her mother was. She can only have believed it at first, of course, +but that may have prompted her to a concealment which she did not +afterwards care to confess to.</p> + +<p>"Be this as it may, Florrie, in fact, behaved with Thumbeline exactly +as the two dogs did. She made no attempt to catch her at her circlings +and wheelings about the kennel, nor to follow her wonderful dances, +nor (in her presence) to imitate them. But she was (like the dogs) +aware of nobody else when under the spell of Thumbeline's personality; +and when she had got to know her she seemed to care for nobody else at +all. I ought, no doubt, to have foreseen that and guarded against it.</p> + +<p>"Thumbeline was extremely attractive. I never saw such eyes as hers, +such mysterious fascination. She was nearly always good-tempered, +nearly always happy; but sometimes she had fits of temper and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> kept +herself to herself. Nothing then would get her out of the kennel, +where she would lie curled up like an animal with her knees to her +chin and one arm thrown over her face. Bran was always wretched at +these times, and did all he knew to coax her out. He ceased to care +for me or my wife after she came to us, and instead of being wild at +the prospect of his Saturday and Sunday runs, it was hard to get him +along. I had to take him on a lead until we had turned to go home; +then he would set off by himself, in spite of hallooing and scolding, +at a long steady gallop and one would find him waiting crouched at the +gate of his run, and Thumbeline on the ground inside it, with her legs +crossed like a tailor, mocking and teasing him with her wonderful +shining eyes. Only once or twice did I see her worse than sick or +sorry; then she was transported with rage and another person +altogether. She never touched me—and why or how I had offended her I +have no notion<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a>—but she buzzed and hovered about me like an angry +bee. She appeared to have wings, which hummed in their furious +movement; she was red in the face, her eyes burned; she grinned at me +and ground her little teeth together. A curious <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>shrill noise came +from her, like the screaming of a gnat or hoverfly; but no words, +never any words. Bran showed me his teeth too, and would not look at +me. It was very odd.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> "I have sometimes thought," he adds in a note, "that it +may have been jealousy. My wife had been with me in the garden and had +stuck a daffodil in my coat."</p></div></div> + +<p>"When I looked in, on my return home, she was as merry as usual, and +as affectionate. I think she had no memory.</p> + +<p>"I am trying to give all the particulars I was able to gather from +observation. In some things she was difficult, in others very easy to +teach. For instance, I got her to learn in no time that she ought to +wear her clothes, such as they were, when I was with her. She +certainly preferred to go without them, especially in the sunshine; +but by leaving her the moment she slipped her frock off I soon made +her understand that if she wanted me she must behave herself according +to my notions of behaviour. She got that fixed in her little head, but +even so she used to do her best to hoodwink me. She would slip out one +shoulder when she thought I wasn't looking, and before I knew where I +was half of her would be gleaming in the sun like satin. Directly I +noticed it I used to frown, and then she would pretend to be ashamed +of herself, hang her head, and wriggle her frock up to its place +again. However, I never could teach her to keep her skirts about her +knees. She was as innocent as a baby about that sort of thing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I taught her some English words, and a sentence or two. That was +toward the end of her confinement to the kennel, about March. I used +to touch parts of her, or of myself, or Bran, and peg away at the +names of them. Mouth, eyes, ears, hands, chest, tail, back, front: she +learned all those and more. Eat, drink, laugh, cry, love, kiss, those +also. As for kissing (apart from the word) she proved herself to be an +expert. She kissed me, Florrie, Bran, Strap indifferently, one as soon +as another, and any rather than none, and all four for choice.</p> + +<p>"I learned some things myself, more than a thing or two. I don't mind +owning that one thing was to value my wife's steady and tried +affection far above the wild love of this unbalanced, unearthly little +creature, who seemed to be like nothing so much as a woman with the +conscience left out. The conscience, we believe, is the still small +voice of the Deity crying to us in the dark recesses of the body; +pointing out the path of duty; teaching respect for the opinion of the +world, for tradition, decency and order. It is thanks to conscience +that a man is true and a woman modest. Not that Thumbeline could be +called immodest, unless a baby can be so described, or an animal. But +could I be called 'true'? I greatly fear that I could not—in fact, I +know it too well. I meant no harm; I was greatly interested;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> and +there was always before me the real difficulty of making Mary +understand that something was in the kennel which she couldn't see. It +would have led to great complications, even if I had persuaded her of +the fact. No doubt she would have insisted on my getting rid of +Thumbeline—but how on earth could I have done that if Thumbeline had +not chosen to go? But for all that I know very well that I ought to +have told her, cost what it might. If I had done it I should have +spared myself lifelong regret, and should only have gone without a few +weeks of extraordinary interest which I now see clearly could not have +been good for me, as not being founded upon any revealed Christian +principle, and most certainly were not worth the price I had to pay +for them.</p> + +<p>"I learned one more curious fact which I must not forget. Nothing +would induce Thumbeline to touch or pass over anything made of +zinc.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> I don't know the reason of it; but gardeners will tell you +that the way to keep a plant from slugs is to put a zinc collar round +it. It is due to that I was able to keep her in Bran's run without +difficulty. To have got out she would have had to pass zinc. The wire +was all galvanised.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> This is a curious thing, unsupported by any other +evidence known to me. I asked Despoina about it, but she would not, or +she did not, answer. She appeared not to understand what zinc was, and +I had none handy.</p></div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She showed her dislike of it in numerous ways: one was her care to +avoid touching the sides or top of the enclosure when she was at her +gambols. At such times, when she was at her wildest, she was all over +the place, skipping high like a lamb, twisting like a leveret, +wheeling round and round in circles like a young dog, or skimming, +like a swallow on the wing, above ground. But she never made a +mistake; she turned in a moment or flung herself backward if there was +the least risk of contact. When Florrie used to converse with her from +outside, in that curious silent way the two had, it would always be +the child that put its hands through the wire, never Thumbeline. I +once tried to put her against the roof when I was playing with her. +She screamed like a shot hare and would not come out of the kennel all +day. There was no doubt at all about her feelings for zinc. All other +metals seemed indifferent to her.</p> + +<p>"With the advent of spring weather Thumbeline became not only more +beautiful, but wilder, and exceedingly restless. She now coaxed me to +let her out, and against my judgment I did it; she had to be carried +over the entry; for when I had set the gate wide open and pointed her +the way into the garden she squatted down in her usual attitude of +attention, with her legs crossed, and watched me, waiting. I wanted to +see how she would get through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> the hateful wire, so went away and hid +myself, leaving her alone with Bran. I saw her creep to the entry and +peer at the wire. What followed was curious. Bran came up wagging his +tail and stood close to her, his side against her head; he looked +down, inviting her to go out with him. Long looks passed between them, +and then Bran stooped his head, she put her arms around his neck, +twined her feet about his foreleg, and was carried out. Then she +became a mad thing, now bird, now moth; high and low, round and round, +flashing about the place for all the world like a humming-bird moth, +perfectly beautiful in her motions (whose ease always surprised me), +and equally so in her colouring of soft grey and dusky-rose flesh. +Bran grew a puppy again and whipped about after her in great circles +round the meadow. But though he was famous at coursing, and has killed +his hares single-handed, he was never once near Thumbeline. It was a +wonderful sight and made me late for business.</p> + +<p>"By degrees she got to be very bold, and taught me boldness too, and +(I am ashamed to say) greater degrees of deceit. She came freely into +the house and played with Florrie up and down stairs; she got on my +knee at meal-times, or evenings when my wife and I were together. Fine +tricks she played me, I must own. She spilled my tea for me, broke +cups and saucers, scattered my Patience cards, caught<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> poor Mary's +knitting wool and rolled it about the room. The cunning little +creature knew that I dared not scold her or make any kind of fuss. She +used to beseech me for forgiveness occasionally when I looked very +glum, and would touch my cheek to make me look at her imploring eyes, +and keep me looking at her till I smiled. Then she would put her arms +round my neck and pull herself up to my level and kiss me, and then +nestle down in my arms and pretend to sleep. By-and-by, when my +attention was called off her, she would pinch me, or tweak my necktie, +and make me look again at her wicked eye peeping out from under my +arm. I had to kiss her again, of course, and at last she might go to +sleep in earnest. She seemed able to sleep at any hour or in any +place, just like an animal.</p> + +<p>"I had some difficulty in arranging for the night when once she had +made herself free of the house. She saw no reason whatever for our +being separated; but I circumvented her by nailing a strip of zinc all +round the door; and I put one round Florrie's too. I pretended to my +wife that it was to keep out draughts. Thumbeline was furious when she +found out how she had been tricked. I think she never quite forgave me +for it. Where she hid herself at night I am not sure. I think on the +sitting-room sofa; but on mild mornings I used to find her out-doors, +playing round Bran's kennel.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Strap, our fox-terrier, picked up some rat poison towards the end of +April and died in the night. Thumbeline's way of taking that was very +curious. It shocked me a good deal. She had never been so friendly +with him as with Bran, though certainly more at ease in his company +than in mine. The night before he died I remember that she and Bran +and he had been having high games in the meadow, which had ended by +their all lying down together in a heap, Thumbeline's head on Bran's +flank, and her legs between his. Her arm had been round Strap's neck +in a most loving way. They made quite a picture for a Royal +Academician; 'Tired of Play,' or 'The End of a Romp,' I can fancy he +would call it. Next morning I found poor old Strap stiff and staring, +and Thumbeline and Bran at their games just the same. She actually +jumped over him and all about him as if he had been a lump of earth or +a stone. Just some such thing he was to her; she did not seem able to +realise that there was the cold body of her friend. Bran just sniffed +him over and left him, but Thumbeline showed no consciousness that he +was there at all. I wondered, was this heartlessness or obliquity? But +I have never found the answer to my question.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> I have observed this frequently for myself, and can +answer Beckwith's question for him. I would refer the reader in the +first place to my early experience of the boy (to call him so) with +the rabbit in the wood. There was an act of shocking cruelty, done +idly, almost unconsciously. I was not shocked at all, child as I was, +and quickly moved to pity and terror, because I knew that the creature +was not to be judged by our standards. From this and other things of +the sort which I have observed, and from this tale of Beckwith's, I +judge, that, to the fairy kind, directly life ceases to be lived at +the full, the object, be it fairy, or animal, or vegetable, is not +perceived by the other to exist. Thus, if a fairy should die, the +others would not know that its accidents were there; if a rabbit (as +in the case cited) should be caught it would therefore cease to be +rabbit. We ourselves have very much the same habit of regard toward +plant life. Our attitude to a tree or a growing plant ceases the +moment that plant is out of the ground. It is then, as we say, +<i>dead</i>—that is, it ceases to be a plant. So also we never scruple to +pluck the flowers, or the whole flower-scape from a plant, to put it +in our buttonhole or in the bosom of our friend, and thereafter to +cease our interest in the plant as such. It now becomes a memory, a +<i>gage d'amour</i>, a token or a sudden glory—what you will. This is the +habit of mankind; but I know of rare ones, both men and women, who +never allow dead flowers to be thrown into the draught, but always +give them decent burial, either cremation or earth to earth. I find +that admirable, yet don't condemn their neighbours, nor consider +fairies cruel who torture the living and disregard the maimed or the +dead.</p></div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> +<p>"Now I come to the tragical part of my story, and wish with all my +heart that I could leave it out. But beyond the full confession I have +made to my wife, the County Police and the newspapers, I feel that I +should not shrink from any admission that may be called for of how +much I have been to blame. In May, on the 13th of May, Thumbeline, +Bran, and our only child, Florrie, disappeared.</p> + +<p>"It was a day, I remember well, of wonderful beauty. I had left them +all three together in the water meadow, little thinking of what was in +store for us before many hours. Thumbeline had been crowning Florrie +with a wreath of flowers. She had gathered cuckoo-pint and marsh +marigolds and woven them together, far more deftly than any of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>us +could have done, into a chaplet. I remember the curious winding, +wandering air she had been singing (without any words, as usual) over +her business, and how she touched each flower first with her lips, and +then brushed it lightly across her bosom before she wove it in. She +had kept her eyes on me as she did it, looking up from under her +brows, as if to see whether I knew what she was about.</p> + +<p>"I don't doubt now but that she was bewitching Florrie by this curious +performance, which every flower had to undergo separately; but, fool +that I was, I thought nothing of it at the time, and bicycled off to +Salisbury leaving them there.</p> + +<p>"At noon my poor wife came to me at the Bank distracted with anxiety +and fatigue. She had run most of the way, she gave me to understand. +Her news was that Florrie and Bran could not be found anywhere. She +said that she had gone to the gate of the meadow to call the child in, +and not seeing her, or getting any answer, she had gone down to the +river at the bottom. Here she had found a few picked wild flowers, but +no other traces. There were no footprints in the mud, either of child +or dog. Having spent the morning with some of the neighbours in a +fruitless search, she had now come to me.</p> + +<p>"My heart was like lead, and shame prevented<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> me from telling her the +truth as I was sure it must be. But my own conviction of it clogged +all my efforts. Of what avail could it be to inform the police or +organise search-parties, knowing what I knew only too well? However, I +did put Gulliver in communication with the head-office in Sarum, and +everything possible was done. We explored a circuit of six miles about +Wishford; every fold of the hills, every spinney, every hedgerow was +thoroughly examined. But that first night of grief had broken down my +shame: I told my wife the whole truth in the presence of Reverend +Richard Walsh, the Congregational minister, and in spite of her +absolute incredulity, and, I may add, scorn, next morning I repeated +it to Chief Inspector Notcutt of Salisbury. Particulars got into the +local papers by the following Saturday; and next I had to face the +ordeal of the <i>Daily Chronicle</i>, <i>Daily News</i>, <i>Daily Graphic</i>, +<i>Star</i>, and other London journals. Most of these newspapers sent +representatives to lodge in the village, many of them with +photographic cameras. All this hateful notoriety I had brought upon +myself, and did my best to bear like the humble, contrite Christian +which I hope I may say I have become. We found no trace of our dear +one, and never have to this day. Bran, too, had completely vanished. I +have not cared to keep a dog since.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Whether my dear wife ever believed my account I cannot be sure. She +has never reproached me for wicked thoughtlessness, that's certain. +Mr. Walsh, our respected pastor, who has been so kind as to read this +paper, told me more than once that he could hardly doubt it. The +Salisbury police made no comments upon it one way or another. My +colleagues at the Bank, out of respect for my grief and sincere +repentance, treated me with a forbearance for which I can never be too +grateful. I need not add that every word of this is absolutely true. I +made notes of the most remarkable characteristics of the being I +called Thumbeline <i>at the time of remarking them</i>, and those notes are +still in my possession."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Here, with the exception of a few general reflections which are of +little value, Mr. Beckwith's paper ends. It was read, I ought to say, +by the Rev. Richard Walsh at the meeting of the South Wilts Folk-lore +Society and Field Club held at Amesbury in June 1892, and is to be +found in the published transactions of that body (Vol. IV. New Series, +pp. 305 <i>seq.</i>).</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_FAIRY_WIFE" id="THE_FAIRY_WIFE"></a>THE FAIRY WIFE</h2> + + +<p>There is nothing surprising in that story, to my mind, but the +reprobation with which Beckwith visits himself. What could he have +done that he did not? How could he have refrained from doing what he +did? Yet there are curious things about it, and one of those is the +partiality of the manifestation. The fairy was visible to him, his +child and his dogs but to no one else. So, in my own experience, had +she been whom I saw in K—— Park, whom Harkness, my companion, did +not see. My explanation of it does not carry me over all the +difficulties. I say, or will repeat if I have said it before, that the +fairy kind are really the spirit, essence, substance (what you will) +of certain sensible things, such as trees, flowers, wind, water, +hills, woods, marshes and the like, that their normal appearance to us +is that of these natural phenomena; but that in certain states of +mind, perhaps in certain conditions of body, there is a relation +established by which we are able to see them on our own terms, as it +were, or in our own idiom, and they also to treat with us to some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +extent, to a large extent, on the same plane or standing-ground. That +there are limitations to this relationship is plain already; for +instance, Beckwith was not able to get his fairy prisoner to speak, +and I myself have never had speech with more than one in my life. But +as to that I shall have a very curious case to report shortly, where a +man taught his fairy-wife to speak.</p> + +<p>The mentioning of that undoubted marriage brings me to the question of +sex. There is, of course, not the slightest doubt about it. Mrs. +Ventris was a fairy wife. Mrs. Ventris was a puzzle to me for a good +many years—in fact until Despoina explained to me many things. For +Mrs. Ventris had a permanent human shape, and spoke as freely as you +or I. I thought at one time that she might be the offspring of a mixed +marriage, like Elsie Marks (whose mother, by the way, was another case +of the sort); but in fact Mrs. Ventris and Mrs. Marks were both fairy +wives, and the wood-girl, Mabilla King, whose case I am going to deal +with was another. But this particular relationship is one which my +explanation of fairy apparitions does not really cover: for marriage +implies a permanent accessibility (to put it so) of two normally +inaccessible natures; and parentage implies very much more. That, +indeed, implies what the Christians call Miracle; but it is quite +beyond<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> dispute. I have a great number of cases ready to my hand, and +shall deal at large with all of them in the course of this essay, in +which fairies have had intercourse with mortals. It is by no means the +fact that the wife is always of the fairy-kind. My own experience at +C—— shall prove that. But I must content myself with mentioning the +well-known case of Mary Wellwood who was wife to a carpenter near +Ashby de la Zouche, and was twice taken by a fairy and twice +recovered. She had children in each of her states of being, and on one +recorded occasion her two families met. It appears to be a law that +the wife takes the nature of the husband, or as much of it as she can, +and it is important to remark that <i>in all cases</i> the children are of +the husband's nature, fairy or mortal as he may happen to be. +"Nature," Despoina told me, "follows the male." So far as fairies are +concerned it seems certain that union with mortals runs in families or +clans, if one may so describe their curious relationships to each +other. There were five sisters of the wood in one of the Western +departments of France (Lot-et-Garonne, I think), who all married men: +two of them married two brothers. Apart they led the decorous lives of +the French middle class, but when they were together it was a sight to +see! A curious one, and to us, with our strong asso<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>ciations of ideas, +that tremendous hand which memory has upon our heart-strings, a +poignant one. For they had lost their powers, but not their impulses. +It was a case of <i>si vieillesse pouvait</i>. I suppose they may have +appeared to some chance wayfarer, getting a glimpse of them at their +gambols between the poplar stems of the road, or in the vistas of the +hazel-brakes, as a company of sprightly matrons on a frolic. To the +Greeks foolishness! And be sure that such an observer would shrug them +out of mind. My own impression is that these ladies were perfectly +happy, that they had nothing of that <i>maggior' dolore</i> which we +mortals know, and for which our joys have so often to pay. Let us hope +so at any rate, for about a fairy or a growing boy conscious of the +prison-shades could Poe have spun his horrors.</p> + +<p>"To the Greeks foolishness," I said in my haste; but in very truth it +was far from being so. To the Greeks there was nothing extraordinary +in the parentage of a river or the love of a God for a mortal. Nor +should there be to a Christian who accepts the orthodox account of the +foundation of his faith. So far as we know, the generative process of +every created thing is the same; it is, therefore, an allowable +inference that the same process obtains with the created things which +are not sensible to ourselves. If flowers mate and beget as we do, why +not winds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> and waters, why not gods and nymphs, fauns and fairies? It +is the creative urgency that imports more than the creative matter. To +my mind, <i>magna componere parvis</i>, it is my fixed belief that all +created nature known to us is the issue of the mighty love of God for +his first-made creature the Earth. I accept the Greek mythology as the +nearest account of the truth we are likely to get. I have never had +the least difficulty in accepting it; and all I have since found out +of the relations of men with their fellow-creatures of other genera +confirms me in the belief that the urgency is the paramount necessity.</p> + +<p>If I am to deal with a case of a mixed marriage, where the wife was a +fairy, the spirit of a tree, I shall ask leave to set down first a +plain proposition, which is that all Natural Facts (as wind, hills, +lakes, trees, animals, rain, rivers, flowers) have an underlying Idea +or Soul whereby they really are what they appear, to which they owe +the beauty, majesty, pity, terror, love, which they excite in us; and +that this Idea, or Soul, having a real existence of its own in +community with its companions of the same nature, can be discerned by +mortal men in forms which best explain to human intelligence the +passions which they excite in human breasts. This is how I explain the +fact, for instance, that the austerity of a lonely rock at sea will +take the form and semblance, and much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> more than that, assume the +prerogatives of a brooding man, or that the swift freedom of a river +will pass by, as in a flash, in the coursing limbs of a youth, or that +at dusk, out of a reed-encircled mountain-tarn, silvery under the hush +of the grey hour, there will rise, and gleam, and sink again, the pale +face, the shoulders and breast of the Spirit of the Pool; that, +finally, the grace of a tree, and its panic of fury when lashed by +storm, very capable in either case of inspiring love or horror, will +be revealed rarely in the form of a nymph. There may be a more +rational explanation of these curious things, but I don't know of one:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Fortunatus et ille, Deos qui novit agrestes!</i></p></div> + +<p>Happy may one be in the fairies of our own country. Happy, even yet, +are they who can find the Oreads of the hill, Dryads of the wood, +nymphs of river, marsh, plough-land, pasture, and heath. Now, leaving +to Greece the things that are Greek, here for an apologue follows a +plain recital of facts within the knowledge of every man of the +Cheviots.</p> + + +<p class="f2">I</p> + +<p>There is in that country, not far from Otterburn—between Otterburn +and the Scottish border—a remote hamlet consisting of a few white +cottages, farm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> buildings and a shingle-spired church. It is called +Dryhope, and lies in a close valley, which is watered by a beck or +burn, known as the Dryhope Burn. It is deeply buried in the hills. +Spurs of the Cheviots as these are, they rise to a considerable +elevation, but are pasturable nearly to the top. There, however, where +the heather begins, peat-hags and morasses make dangerous provision, +from which the flocks are carefully guarded. It is the practice of the +country for the shepherds to be within touch of them all night, lest +some, feeding upward (as sheep always do) should reach the summits and +be lost or mired inextricably. These upland stretches, consequently, +are among the most desolate spots to be found in our islands. I have +walked over them myself within recent years and met not a human soul, +nor beast of man's taming. Ravens, curlews, peewits, a lagging fox or +limping hare; such, with the unsensed Spirits of the Earth, will be +your company. In particular I traversed (in 1902) the great upland +called Limmer Fell, and saw the tarn—Silent Water—and the trees +called The Seven Sisters. They are silver birches of remarkable size +and beauty. One of them is fallen. Standing there, looking north-west, +the Knapp may be seen easily, some five miles away; and the extent of +the forest with which it is covered can be estimated. A great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> and +solemn wood that is, which no borderer will ever enter if he can help +it.</p> + +<p>There was—and may be still—a family of shepherds living in Dryhope +of the name of King. When these things occurred there were alive +George King, a patriarch of seventy-five years, Miranda King, his +daughter-in-law, widow of his son, who was supposed to be a +middle-aged woman, and a young man, Andrew King, her only son. That +was the family; and there was a girl, Bessie Prawle, daughter of a +neighbour, very much in and out of the house, and held by common +report to be betrothed to Andrew. She used to help the widow in +domestic matters, see to the poultry, milk the cow, churn the butter, +press the cheeses. The Kings were independent people, like the +dalesmen of Cumberland, and stood, as the saying is, upon their own +foot-soles. Old King had a tenant-right upon the fell, and owed no man +anything.</p> + +<p>There was said to be a mystery connected with Miranda the widow, who +was a broad-browed, deep-breasted, handsome woman, very dark and +silent. She was not a native of Redesdale, not known to be of +Northumberland. Her husband, who had been a sailor, had brought her +back with him one day, saying that she was his wife and her name +Miranda. He had said no more about her, would say no more,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> and had +been drowned at sea before his son was born. She, for her part, had +been as uncommunicative as he. Such reticence breeds wonderment in the +minds of such a people as they of Dryhope, and out of wonderment arise +wonders. It was told that until Miranda King was brought in sea-birds +had never been seen in Dryhopedale. It was said that they came on that +very night when George King the younger came home, and she with him, +carrying his bundle and her own. It was said that they had never since +left the hamlet, and that when Miranda went out of doors, which was +seldom, she was followed by clouds of them whichever way she turned. I +have no means of testing the truth of these rumours, but, however it +may be, no scandal was ever brought against her. She was respectable +and respected. Old King, the grandfather, relied strongly upon her +judgment. She brought up her son in decent living and the fear of God.</p> + +<p>In the year when Andrew was nineteen he was a tall, handsome lad, and +a shepherd, following the profession, as he was to inherit the estate, +of his forebears. One April night in that year he and his grandfather, +the pair of them with a collie, lay out on the fell-side together. +Lambing is late in Redesdale, the spring comes late; April is often a +month of snow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> + +<p>They had a fire and their cloaks; the ground was dry, and they lay +upon it under a clear sky strewn with stars. At midnight George King, +the grandfather, was asleep, but Andrew was broad awake. He heard the +flock (which he could not see) sweep by him like a storm, the +bell-wether leading, and as they went up the hill the wind began to +blow, a long, steady, following blast. The collie on his feet, ears +set flat on his head, shuddering with excitement, whined for orders. +Andrew, after waking with difficulty his grandfather, was told to go +up and head them off. He sent the dog one way—off in a flash, he +never returned that night—and himself went another. He was not seen +again for two days. To be exact, he set out at midnight on Thursday +the 12th April, and did not return to Dryhope until eleven o'clock of +the morning of Saturday the 14th. The sheep, I may say here, came back +by themselves on the 13th, the intervening day.</p> + +<p>That night of the 12th April is still commemorated in Dryhope as one +of unexampled spring storm, just as a certain October night of the +next year stands yet as the standard of comparison for all equinoctial +gales. The April storm, we hear, was very short and had several +peculiar features. It arose out of a clear sky, blew up a snow-cloud +which did no more than powder the hills, and then continued to blow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +furiously out of a clear sky. It was steady but inconceivably strong +while it lasted; the force and pressure of the wind did not vary until +just the end. It came from the south-east, which is the rainy quarter +in Northumberland, but without rain. It blew hard from midnight, until +three o'clock in the morning, and then, for half an hour, a hurricane. +The valley and hamlet escaped as by a miracle. Mr. Robson, the vicar, +awakened by it, heard the wind like thunder overhead and went out of +doors to observe it. He went out into a still, mild air coming from +the north-west, and still heard it roaring like a mad thing high above +him. Its direction, as he judged by sound, was the precise contrary of +the ground current. In the morning, wreckage of all kinds, branches of +trees, roots, and whole clumps of heather strewn about the village and +meadows, while showing that a furious battle had been fought out on +the fells, confirmed this suspicion. A limb of a tree, draped in ivy, +was recognised as part of an old favourite of his walks. The ash from +which it had been torn stood to the south-east of the village. In the +course of the day (the 13th) news was brought in that one of the Seven +Sisters was fallen, and that a clean drive could be seen through the +forest on the top of Knapp. Coupled with these dreadful testimonies +you have the disappearance of Andrew King<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> to help you form your +vision of a village in consternation.</p> + +<p>Hear now what befell young Andrew King when he swiftly climbed the +fell, driven forward by the storm. The facts are that he was agog for +adventure, since, all unknown to any but himself, he had ventured to +the summits before, had stood by Silent Water, touched the Seven +Sisters one by one, and had even entered the dreadful, haunted, forest +of Knapp. He had had a fright, had been smitten by that sudden gripe +of fear which palsies limbs and freezes blood, which the ancients +called the Stroke of Pan, and we still call Panic after them. He had +never forgotten what he had seen, though he had lost the edge of the +fear he had. He was older now by some two years, and only waiting the +opportunity for renewed experience. He hoped to have it—and he had +it.</p> + +<p>The streaming gale drove him forward as a ship at sea. He ran lightly, +without fatigue or troubled breath. Dimly above him he presently saw +the seven trees, dipping and louting to the weather; but as he neared +them they had no meaning for him, did not, indeed, exist. For now he +saw more than they, and otherwise than men see trees.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> + + +<p class="f2">II</p> + +<p>In a mild and steady light, which came from no illumination of moon or +stars, but seemed to be interfused with the air, in the strong warm +wind which wrapped the fell-top; upon a sward of bent-grass which ran +toward the tarn and ended in swept reeds he saw six young women +dancing in a ring. Not to any music that he could hear did they move, +nor was the rhythm of their movement either ordered or wild. It was +not formal dancing, and it was not at all a Bacchic rout: rather they +flitted hither and thither on the turf, now touching hands, now +straining heads to one another, crossing, meeting, parting, winding +about and about with the purposeless and untirable frivolity of moths. +They seemed neither happy nor unhappy, they made no sound; it looked +to the lad as if they had been so drifting from the beginning, and +would so drift to the end of things temporal. Their loose hair +streamed out in the wind, their light gossamer gowns streamed the same +way, whipped about their limbs as close as wet muslin. They were +bare-footed, bare-armed, and bare-headed. They all had beauty, but it +was not of earthly cast. He saw one with hair like pale silk, and one, +ruddy and fierce in the face, with snaky black hair which, he thought, +flew out beyond her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> for a full yard's measure. Another had +hazel-brown hair and a sharp little peering face; another's was colour +of ripe corn, and another's like a thunder-cloud, copper-tinged. About +and about they went, skimming the tops of the grasses, and Andrew +King, his heart hammering at his ribs, watched them at their play. So +by chance one saw him, and screamed shrilly, and pointed at him.</p> + +<p>Then they came about him like a swarm of bees, angry at first, humming +a note like that of the telegraph wire on a mountain road, but, as he +stood his ground, curiosity prevailed among them and they pried +closely at him. They touched him, felt his arms, his knees, handled +his clothing, peered into his eyes. All this he endured, though he was +in a horrible fright. Then one, the black-haired girl with a bold, +proud face, came and stood closely before him and looked him full into +his eyes. He gave her look for look. She put a hand on each shoulder +and kissed him. After that there was a tussle among them, for each +must do what her sister had done. They took a kiss apiece, or maybe +more; then, circling round him, they swept him forward on the wind, +past Silent Water, over the Edge, out on the fells, on and on and on, +and never stopped till they reached Knapp Forest, that dreadful place.</p> + +<p>There in the hushed aisles and glades they played<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> with this new-found +creature, played with him, fought for him, and would have loved him if +he had been minded for such adventuring. Two in particular he marked +as desiring his closer company—the black-haired and bold was one, and +the other was the sharp-faced and slim with eyes of a mouse and +hazel-brown hair. He called her the laughing girl and thought her the +kindest of them all. But they were all his friends at this time. +Andrew King, like young Tamlane, might have sojourned with them for +ever and a day, but for one thing. He saw by chance a seventh +maiden—a white-faced, woe-begone, horror-struck Seventh Sister, +blenched and frozen under a great beech. She may have been there +throughout his commerce with the rest, or she may have been revealed +to him in a flash then and there. So as it was he saw her suddenly, +and thereafter saw no other at all. She held his eyes waking; he left +his playmates and went to her where she crouched. He stooped and took +her hand. It was as cold as a dead girl's and very heavy. Amid the +screaming of the others, undeterred by their whirling and battling, he +lifted up the frozen one. He lifted her bodily and carried her in his +arms. They swept all about him like infuriated birds. The sound of +their rage was like that of gulls about a fish in the tide-way; but +they laid no hands on him, and said nothing that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> could understand, +and by this time his awe was gone, and his heart was on fire. Holding +fast to what he had and wanted, he pushed out of Knapp Forest and took +the lee-side of the Edge on his way to Dryhope. This must have been +about the time of the gale at its worst. The Seventh Sister by Silent +Water may have fallen at this time; for had not Andrew King the +Seventh Sister in his arms?</p> + +<p>Anxiety as to the fate of Andrew King was spread over the village and +the greatest sympathy felt for the bereaved family. To have lost a +flock of sheep, a dog, and an only child at one blow is a terrible +misfortune. Old King, I am told, was prostrated, and the girl, Bessie +Prawle, violent in her lamentations over her "lad." The only person +unmoved was the youth's mother, Miranda King the widow. She, it seems, +had no doubts of his safety, and declared that he "would come in his +time, like his father before him"—a saying which, instead of +comforting the mourners, appears to have exasperated them. Probably +they did not at all understand it. Such consolations as Mr. Robson the +minister had to offer she received respectfully, but without comment. +All she had to say was that she could trust her son; and when he urged +that she had better by far trust in God, her reply, finally and +shortly, was that God was bound by His own laws and had not given us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +heads and hearts for nothing. I am free to admit that her theology +upon this point seems to me remarkably sound.</p> + +<p>In the course of the 13th, anxious day as it promised to be, old +George King, returning from a fruitless quest over the fells, came +upon his sheep within a few hundred yards of his own house, collected +together in a flock and under the watch of his dog. They were, in +fact, as nearly as possible where he had understood them to be before +their stampede of the previous night. He was greatly heartened by the +discovery, though unable to account for the facts of it. The dog was +excessively tired, and ate greedily. Next morning, when the family and +some neighbours were standing together on the fell-side looking up the +valley where the Dryhope burn comes down from the hills, they saw two +figures on the rough road which follows it. Mrs. King, the widow, I +believe, had seen them first, but she had said nothing. It was Bessie +Prawle who raised the first cry that "Andrew was coming, and his wife +with him." All looked in the direction she showed them and recognised +the young man. Behind him walked the figure of a woman. This is the +accustomed manner of a man and wife to walk in that country. It is +almost a proof of their relationship. Being satisfied of the identity +of their child the whole party returned to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> the homestead to await him +and what he was bringing with him. Speculation was rife and volubly +expressed, especially by Bessie Prawle. Miranda King, however, was +silent; but it was noticed that she kept her eyes fixed upon the woman +behind her son, and that her lips moved as if she was muttering to +herself.</p> + +<p>The facts were as the expectations. Andrew King brought forward a +young, timid and unknown girl as his wife. By that name he led her up +to his grandfather, then to his mother; as such he explained her to +his neighbours, including (though not by name) Bessie Prawle, who had +undoubtedly hoped to occupy that position herself.</p> + +<p>Old King, overcome with joy at seeing his boy alive and well, and +dazed, probably, by events, put his hands upon the girl's head and +blessed her after the patriarchal fashion there persisting. He seems +to have taken canonical marriage for granted, though nobody else did, +and though a moment's reflection, had he been capable of so much, +would have shown him that that could not be. The neighbours were too +well disposed to the family to raise any doubts or objections; Bessie +Prawle was sullen and quiet; only Miranda King seems to have been +equal to the occasion. She, as if in complete possession of facts +which satisfied every question, received the girl as an equal. She did +not kiss her or touch her, but looked deeply<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> into her eyes for a long +space of time, and took from her again an equally searching regard; +then, turning to her father-in-law and the company at large, she said, +"This is begun, and will be done. He is like his father before him." +To that oracular utterance old King, catching probably but the last +sentence, replied, "And he couldn't do better, my child." He meant no +more than a testimony to his daughter-in-law. Mrs. King's +observations, coupled with that, nevertheless, went far to give credit +to the alleged marriage.</p> + +<p>The girl, so far, had said nothing whatever, though she had been +addressed with more than one rough but kindly compliment on her youth +and good looks. And now Andrew King explained that she was dumb. +Consternation took the strange form of jocular approval of his +discretion in selecting a wife who could never nag him—but it was +consternation none the less. The mystery was felt to be deeper; there +was nothing for it now but to call in the aid of the parish +priest—"the minister," as they called him—and this was done. By the +time he had arrived, Miranda King had taken the girl into the cottage, +and the young husband and his grandfather had got the neighbours to +disperse. Bessie Prawle, breathing threatenings and slaughter, had +withdrawn herself.</p> + +<p>Mr. Robson, a quiet sensible man of nearer sixty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> than fifty years, +sat in the cottage, hearing all that his parishioners could tell him +and using his eyes. He saw the centre-piece of all surmise, a +shrinking, pale slip of a girl, by the look of her not more than +fifteen or sixteen years old. She was not emaciated by any means, +seemed to be well nourished, and was quite as vigorous as any child of +that age who could have been pitted against her. Her surroundings +cowed her, he judged. To Dryhope she was a stranger, a foreigner; to +her Dryhope and the Dryhopedale folk were perilous matter. Her general +appearance was that of a child who had never had anything but +ill-usage; she flinched at every sudden movement, and followed one +about with her great unintelligent eyes, as if she was trying to +comprehend what they showed her. Her features were regular and +delicate; her brows broad and eyebrows finely arched, her chin full, +her neck slim, her hands and feet narrow and full of what fanciers +call "breed." Her hair was very long and fine, dark brown with gleams +of gold; her eyes were large, grey in colour, but, as I have said, +unintelligent, like an animal's, which to us always seem +unintelligent. I should have mentioned, for Mr. Robson noticed it at +once, that her hair was unconfined, and that, so far as he could make +out, she wore but a single garment—a sleeveless frock, confined at +the waist and reaching<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> to her knees. It was of the colour of +unbleached flax and of a coarse web. Her form showed through, and the +faint flush of her skin. She was a finely made girl. Her legs and feet +were bare. Immodest as such an appearance would have been in one of +the village maids, he did not feel it to be so with her. Her look was +so entirely foreign to his experience that there was no standard of +comparison. Everything about her seemed to him to be quite what one +would have expected, until one came, so to speak, in touch with her +soul. That, if it lay behind her inscrutable, sightless and dumb eyes, +betrayed her. There was no hint of it. Human in form, visibly and +tangibly human, no soul sat in her great eyes that a man could +discern. That, however, is not now the point. Rather it is that, to +all appearance a modest and beautiful girl, she was remarkably +undressed. It was inconceivable that a modest and beautiful girl could +so present herself, and yet a modest and beautiful girl she was.</p> + +<p>Mr. Robson put it to himself this way. There are birds—for instance, +jays, kingfishers, goldfinches—which are, taken absolutely, extremely +brilliant in colouring. Yet they do not jar, are not obtrusive. So it +was with her. Her dress was, perhaps, taken absolutely, indecorous. +Upon her it looked at once seemly and beautiful. Upon Bessie Prawle it +would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> have been glaring; but one had to dissect it before one could +discover any fault with it upon its wearer. She was very pale, even to +the lips, which were full and parted, as if she must breathe through +her mouth. He noticed immediately the shortness of her breath. It was +very distressing, and after a little while induced the same thing in +himself. And not in him only, but I can fancy that the whole group of +them sitting round her where she was crouched against Miranda King's +knees, were panting away like steam-engines before they had done with +her. While Mr. Robson was there Miranda never took her arm off her +shoulder for a moment; but the girl's eyes were always fixed upon +Andrew, who called himself her husband, unless her apprehensions were +directly called elsewhere. In that case she would look in the required +direction for the fraction of a second, terrified and ready, as you +may say, to die at a movement, and then, her fears at rest, back to +her husband's face.</p> + +<p>Mr. Robson's first business was to examine Andrew King, a perfectly +honest, well-behaved lad, whom he had known from his cradle. He was +candid—up to a point. He had found her on the top of Knapp Fell, he +said; she had been with others, who ill-treated her. What others? +Others of her sort. Fairies, he said, who lived up there. He pressed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +him about this. Fairies? Did he really believe in such beings? Like +all country people he spoke about these things with the utmost +difficulty, and when confronted by worldly wisdom, became dogged. He +said how could he help it when here was one? Mr. Robson told him that +he was begging the question, but he looked very blank. To the surprise +of the minister, old King—old George King, the grandfather—had no +objections to make to the suggestion of fairies on Knapp Fell. He +could not say, there was no telling; Knapp was a known place; strange +things were recorded of the forest. Miranda, his daughter-in-law, was +always a self-contained woman, with an air about her of being +forewarned. He instanced her, and the minister asked her several +questions. Being pressed, she finally said, "Sir, my son is as likely +right as wrong. We must all make up our own minds." There that matter +had to be left.</p> + +<p>Andrew said that he had followed the fairies from the tarn on Lammer +Fell into Knapp Forest. They had run away from him, taking this girl +of his, as he supposed, with them. He had followed them because he +meant to have her. They knew that, so had run. Why did he want her? He +said that he had seen her before. When? Oh, long ago—when he had been +up there alone. He had seen her face among the trees for a moment. +They had been hurt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>ing her; she looked at him, she was frightened, but +couldn't cry out—only look and ask. He had never forgotten her; her +looks had called him often, and he had kept his eyes wide open. Now, +when he had found her again, he determined to have her. And at last, +he said, he had got her. He had had to fight for her, for they had +been about him like hell-cats and had jumped at him as if they would +tear him to pieces, and screamed and hissed like cats. But when he had +got her in his arms they had all screamed together, once—like a +howling wind—and had flown away.</p> + +<p>What next? Here he became obstinate, as if foreseeing what was to be. +What next? He had married her. Married her! How could he marry a fairy +on the top of Knapp Fell? Was there a church there, by chance? Had a +licence been handy? "Let me see her lines, Andrew," Mr. Robson had +said somewhat sternly in conclusion. His answer had been to lift up +her left hand and show the thin third finger. It carried a ring, made +of plaited rush. "I put that on her," he said, "and said all the words +over her out of the book." "And you think you have married her, +Andrew?" It was put to him <i>ex cathedrâ</i>. He grew very red and was +silent; presently he said, "Well, sir, I do think so. But she's not my +wife yet, if that's what you mean." The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> good gentleman felt very much +relieved. It was satisfactory to him that he could still trust his +worthy young parishioner.</p> + +<p>Entirely under the influence of Miranda King, he found the family +unanimous for a real wedding. To that there were two objections to +make. He could not put up the banns of a person without a name, and +would not marry a person unbaptised. Now, to baptise an adult +something more than sponsors are requisite; there must be voluntary +assent to the doctrines of religion by the postulant. In this case, +how to be obtained? He saw no way, since it was by no means plain to +him that the girl could understand a word that was said. He left the +family to talk it over among themselves, saying, as he went out of the +door, that his confidence in their principles was so strong that he +was sure they would sanction no step which would lead the two young +people away from the church door.</p> + +<p>In the morning Miranda King came to him with a report that matters had +been arranged and only needed his sanction. "I can trust my son, and +see him take her with a good conscience," she told him. "She's not one +of his people, but she's one of mine; and what I have done she can do, +and is willing to do."</p> + +<p>The clergyman was puzzled. "What do you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> mean by that, Mrs. King?" he +asked her. "What are <i>your people</i>? How do they differ from mine, or +your husband's?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated. "Well, sir, in this way. She hasn't got your tongue, +nor my son's tongue."</p> + +<p>"She has none at all," said the minister; but Miranda replied, "She +can talk without her tongue."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear," he said, "but I cannot."</p> + +<p>"But I can," was her answer; "she can talk to me—and will talk to +you; but not yet. She's dumb for a season, she's struck so. My son +will give her back her tongue—by-and-by."</p> + +<p>He was much interested. He asked Miranda to tell him who had struck +her dumb. For a long time she would not answer. "We don't name +him—it's not lawful. He that has the power—the Master—I can go no +nearer." He urged her to openness, got her at last to mention "The +King of the Wood." The King of the Wood! There she stuck, and nothing +he could say could move her from that name, The King of the Wood.</p> + +<p>He left it so, knowing his people, and having other things to ask +about. What tongue or speech had the respectable, the staid Miranda +King in common with the scared waif? To that she answered that she +could not tell him; but that it was certain they could understand each +other. How? "By<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> looks," she said, and added scornfully, "she's not +the kind that has to clatter with her tongue to have speech with her +kindred."</p> + +<p>Miranda, then, was a kinswoman! He showed his incredulity, and the +woman flushed. "See here, Mr. Robson," she said, "I am of the sea, and +she of the fell, but we are the same nation. We are not of yours, but +you can make us so. Directly I saw her I knew what she was; and so did +she know me. How? By the eyes and understanding. I felt who she was. +As she is now so was I once. As I am now so will she be. I'll answer +for her; I'm here to do it. When once I'd followed my man I never +looked back; no more will she. The woman obeys the man—that's the +law. If a girl of your people was taken with a man of mine she'd lose +her speech and forsake her home and ways. That's the law all the world +over. God Almighty's self, if He were a woman, would do the same. He +couldn't help it. The law is His; but He made it so sure that not +Himself could break it."</p> + +<p>"What law do you mean?" she was asked. She said, "The law of life. The +woman follows the man."</p> + +<p>This proposition he was not prepared to deny, and the end of it was +that Mr. Robson baptised the girl, taking Miranda for godmother. +Mabilla they called her by her sponsor's desire, "Mabilla +By-the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>-Wood," and as such she was published and married. You may be +disposed to blame him for lightness of conscience, but I take leave to +tell you that he had had the cure of souls in Dryhope for +five-and-thirty years. He claimed on that score to know his people. +The more he knew of them, the less he was able to question the lore of +such an one as Miranda King. And he might remind you that Mabilla King +is alive to this hour, a wife and mother of children. That is a fact, +and it is also a fact, as I am about to tell you, that she had a hard +fight to win such peace.</p> + +<p>Married, made a woman, she lost her haunted look and gained some +colour in her cheeks. She lost her mortal chill. Her clothing, the +putting up of her hair made some difference, but loving entreaty all +the difference in the world. To a casual glance there was nothing but +refinement to distinguish her from her neighbours, to a closer one +there was more than that. Her eyes, they said, had the far, intent, +rapt gaze of a wild animal. They seemed to search minutely, reaching +beyond our power of vision, to find there things beyond our human ken. +But whereas the things which she looked at, invisible to us, caused +her no dismay, those within our range, the most ordinary and +commonplace, filled her with alarm. Her eyes, you may say, communed +with the unseen, and her soul followed their direction and dwelt +remote<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> from her body. She was easily startled, not only by what she +saw but by what she heard. Nobody was ever more sensitive to sound. +They say that a piano-tuner goes not by sound, but by the vibrations +of the wire, which he is able to test without counting. It was so with +her. She seemed to feel the trembling of the circumambient air, and to +know by its greater or less intensity that something—and very often +what thing in particular—was affecting it. All her senses were +preternaturally acute—she could see incredible distances, hear, +smell, in a way that only wild nature can. Added to these, she had +another sense, whereby she could see what was hidden from us and +understand what we could not even perceive. One could guess as much, +on occasions, by the absorbed intensity of her gaze. But when she was +with her husband (which was whenever he would allow it) she had no +eyes, ears, senses or thoughts for any other living thing, seen or +unseen. She followed him about like a dog, and when that might not be +her eyes followed him. Sometimes, when he was afield with his sheep, +they saw her come out of the cottage and slink up the hedgerow to the +fell's foot. She would climb the brae, search him out, and then crouch +down and sit watching him, never taking her eyes off him. When he was +at home her favourite place was at his feet. She would sit hud<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>dled +there for hours, and his hand would fall upon her hair or rest on her +shoulder; and you could see the pleasure thrilling her, raying out +from her—just as you can see, as well as hear, a cat purring by the +fire. He used to whisper in her ear as if she was a child: like a +child she used to listen and wonder. Whether she understood him or no +it was sometimes the only way of soothing her. Her trembling stopped +at the sound of his voice, and her eyes left off staring and showed +the glow of peace. For whole long evenings they sat close together, +his hand upon her hair and his low voice murmuring in her ear.</p> + +<p>This much the neighbours report and the clergyman confirms, as also +that all went well with the young couple for the better part of two +years. The girl grew swiftly towards womanhood, became sleek and +well-liking; had a glow and a promise of ripeness which bid fair to be +redeemed. A few omens, however, remained, disquieting when those who +loved her thought of them. One was that she got no human speech, +though she understood everything that was said to her; another that +she showed no signs of motherhood; a third that Bessie Prawle could +not abide her. She alone of all the little community avoided the King +household, and scowled whensoever she happened to cross the path of +this gentle outland girl. Jealousy was presumed the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> cause; but I +think there was more in it than that. I think that Bessie Prawle +believed her to be a witch.</p> + + +<p class="f2">III</p> + +<p>To eyes prepared for coming disaster things small in themselves loom +out of a clear sky portentous. Such eyes had not young Andrew King the +bride-groom, a youth made man by love, secure in his treasure and +confident in his power of keeping what his confidence had won. Such +eyes may or may not have had Mabilla, though hers seemed to be centred +in her husband, where he was or where he might be. George King was old +and looked on nothing but his sheep, or the weather as it might affect +his sheep. Miranda King, the self-contained, stoic woman, had schooled +her eyes to see her common duties. Whatever else she may have seen she +kept within the door of her shut lips. She may have known what was +coming, she must have known that whatever came had to come. Bessie +Prawle, however, with hatred, bitter fear and jealousy to sharpen her, +saw much.</p> + +<p>Bessie Prawle was a handsome, red-haired girl, deep in the breast, +full-eyed and of great colour. Her strength was remarkable. She could +lift a heifer into a cart, and had once, being dared to it, carried +Andrew King up the brae in her arms. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> young man, she supposed, +owed her a grudge for that; she believed herself unforgiven, and saw +in this sudden marriage of his a long-meditated act of revenge. By +that in her eyes (and as she thought, in the eyes of all Dryhope) he +had ill-requited her, put her to unthinkable shame. She saw herself +with her favours of person and power passed over for a nameless, +haunted, dumb thing, a stray from some other world into a world of +men, women, and the children they rear to follow them. She scorned +Mabilla for flinching so much, she scorned her for not flinching more. +That Mabilla could be desirable to Andrew King made her scoff; that +Andrew King should not know her dangerous kept her awake at night.</p> + +<p>For the world seemed to her a fearful place since Mabilla had been +brought into it. There were signs everywhere. That summer it thundered +out of a clear sky. Once in the early morning she had seen a bright +light above the sun—a mock sun which shone more fiercely than a fire +in daylight. She heard wild voices singing; on still days she saw the +trees in Knapp Forest bent to a furious wind. When Mabilla crept up +the fell on noiseless feet to spy for Andrew King, Bessie Prawle heard +the bents hiss and crackle under her, as if she set them afire.</p> + +<p>Next summer, too, there were portents. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> was a great drought, so +great that Dryhope burn ran dry, and water had to be fetched from a +distance for the sheep. There were heather fires in many places; smut +got into the oats, and a plague of caterpillars attacked the trees so +that in July they were leafless, and there was no shade. There was no +pasture for the kine, which grew lean and languid. Their bones stuck +out through their skin; they moaned as they lay on the parched earth, +and had not strength enough to swish at the clouds of flies. They had +sores upon them, which festered and spread. If Mabilla, the nameless +wife, was not responsible for this, who could be? Perhaps Heaven was +offended with Dryhope on account of Andrew King's impiety. Bessie +believed that Mabilla was a witch.</p> + +<p>She followed the girl about, spying on everything she did. Once, at +least, she came upon her lying in the heather. She was plaiting rushes +together into a belt, and Bessie thought she was weaving a spell and +sprang upon her. The girl cowered, very white, and Bessie Prawle, her +heart on fire, gave tongue to all her bitter thoughts. The witch-wife, +fairy-wife, child or whatever she was seemed to wither as a flower in +a hot wind. Bessie Prawle towered above her in her strength, and +gained invective with every fierce breath she took. Her blue eyes +burned, her bosom heaved like the sea; her arm bared to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> shoulder +could have struck a man down. Yet in the midst of her frenzied speech, +in full flow, she faltered. Her fists unclenched themselves, her arm +dropped nerveless, her eyes sought the ground. Andrew King, pale with +rage, sterner than she had ever seen him, stood before her.</p> + +<p>He looked at her with deadly calm.</p> + +<p>"Be out of this," he said; "you degrade yourself. Never let me see you +again." Before she had shrunk away he had stooped to the huddled +creature at his feet, had covered her with his arms and was whispering +urgent comfort in her ear, caressing her with voice and hands. Bessie +Prawle could not show herself to the neighbours for the rest of the +summer and early autumn. She became a solitary; the neighbours said +that she was in a decline.</p> + +<p>The drought, with all the troubles it entailed of plague, pestilence +and famine, continued through August and September. It did not really +break till All-Hallow's, and then, indeed, it did.</p> + +<p>The day had been overcast, with a sky of a coppery tinge, and +intensely dry heat; a chance puff of wind smote one in the face, hot +as the breath of a man in fever. The sheep panted on the ground, their +dry tongues far out of their mouths; the beasts lay as if dead, and +flies settled upon them in clouds. All the land was of one glaring +brown, where the bents<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> were dry straw, and the heather first burnt +and then bleached pallid by the sun. The distance was blurred in a +reddish lurid haze; Knapp Fell and its forest were hidden.</p> + +<p>Mabilla, the dumb girl, had been restless all day, following Andrew +about like a shadow. The heat had made him irritable; more than once +he had told her to go home and she had obeyed him for the time, but +had always come back. Her looks roamed wide; she seemed always +listening; sometimes it was clear that she heard something—for she +panted and moved her lips. There was deep trouble in her eyes too; she +seemed full of fear. At almost any other time her husband would have +noticed it and comforted her. But his nerves, fretted by the long +scorching summer, were on this day of fire stretched to the cracking +point. He saw nothing, and felt nothing, but his own discomfort.</p> + +<p>Out on the parched fell-side Bessie Prawle sat like a bird of omen and +gloomed at the wrath to come.</p> + +<p>Toward dusk a wind came moaning down the valley, raising little spires +of dust. It came now down, now up. Sometimes two currents met each +other and made momentary riot. But farm-work has to get itself done +through fair or foul. It grew dark, the sheep were folded and fed, the +cattle were got in, and the family sat together in the kitchen,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +silent, preoccupied, the men oppressed and anxious over they knew not +what. As for those two aliens, Miranda King and Mabilla By-the-Wood, +whatever they knew, one of them made no sign at all, and the other, +though she was white, though she shivered and peered about, had no +means of voicing her thought.</p> + +<p>They had their tea and settled to their evening tasks. The old +shepherd dozed over his pipe, Miranda knitted fast, Mabilla stared out +of the window into the dark, twisting her hands, and Andrew, with one +of his hands upon her shoulder, patted her gently, as if to soothe +her. She gave him a grateful look more than once, but did not cease to +shiver. Nobody spoke, and suddenly in the silence Mabilla gasped and +began to tremble. Then the dog growled under the table. All looked up +and about them.</p> + +<p>A scattering, pattering sound lashed at the window. Andrew then +started up. "Rain!" he said; "that's what we're waiting for," and made +to go to the door. Miranda his mother, and Mabilla his young wife, +caught him by the frock and held him back. The dog, staring into the +window-pane, bristling and glaring, continued to growl. They waited in +silence, but with beating hearts.</p> + +<p>A loud knock sounded suddenly on the door—a dull, heavy blow, as if +one had pounded it with a tree-stump. The dog burst into a panic of +barking,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> flew to the door and sniffed at the threshold. He whined and +scratched frantically with his forepaws. The wind began to blow, +coming quite suddenly down, solid upon the wall of the house, shaking +it upon its foundations. George King was now upon his feet. "Good God +Almighty!" he said, "this is the end of the world!"</p> + +<p>The blast was not long-lived. It fell to a murmur. Andrew King, now at +the window, could see nothing of the rain. There were no drops upon +the glass, nor sound upon the sycamores outside. But even while he +looked, and his grandfather, all his senses alert, waited for what was +to come, and the two pale women clung together, knowing what was to +come, there grew gradually another sound which, because it was +familiar, brought their terrors sharply to a point.</p> + +<p>It was the sound of sheep in a flock running. It came from afar and +grew in volume and distinctness; the innumerable small thudding of +sharp hoofs, the rustling of woolly bodies, the volleying of short +breath, and that indefinable sense of bustle which massed things +produce, passing swiftly.</p> + +<p>The sheep came on, panic-driven, voiceless in their fear, but speaking +aloud in the wildly clanging bells; they swept by the door of the +house with a sound like the rush of water; they disappeared in that +flash of sound. Old King cried, "Man, 'tis the sheep!" and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> flew for +his staff and shoes. Miranda followed to fetch them; but Andrew went +to the door as he was, shaking off his clinging wife, unlatched it and +let in a gale of wind. The dog shot out like a flame of fire and was +gone.</p> + +<p>It was as if the wind which was driving the sheep was going to scour +the house. It came madly, with indescribable force; it rushed into the +house, blew the window-curtains toward the middle of the room, drove +the fire outward and set the ashes whirling like snow all about. +Andrew King staggered before it a moment, then put his head down and +beat his way out. Mabilla shuddering shrank backward to the fireplace +and crouched there, waiting. Old King came out booted and cloaked, his +staff in his hand, battled to the door and was swept up the brae upon +the gale. Miranda did not appear; so Mabilla, white and rigid, was +alone in the whirling room.</p> + +<p>Creeping to her through the open door, holding to whatever solid thing +she could come by, entered Bessie Prawle. In all that turmoil and +chill terror she alone was hot. Her grudge was burning in her. She +could have killed Mabilla with her eyes.</p> + +<p>But she did not, for Mabilla was in the hands of greater and stronger +powers. Before Bessie Prawle's shocked eyes she was seen rigid and +awake. She was seen to cower as to some threatening shape, then to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +stiffen, to mutter with her dry lips, and to grow still, to stare with +her wide eyes, and then to see nothing. A glaze swam over her eyes; +they were open, but as the eyes of the dead.</p> + +<p>Bessie Prawle, horror-struck, stretched out her arms to give her +shelter. All her honest humanity was reborn in her in this dreadful +hour. "My poor lass, I'll not harm ye," she was saying; but Mabilla +had begun to move. She moved as a sleep-walker, seeing but not seeing +her way; she moved as one who must, not as one who would. She went +slowly as if drawn to the open door. Bessie never tried to stop her; +she could not though she would. Slowly as if drawn she went to the +door, staring before her, pale as a cloth, rigid as a frozen thing. At +the threshold she swayed for a moment in the power of the storm; then +she was sucked out like a dried leaf and was no more seen. Overhead, +all about the eaves of the house the great wind shrilled mockery and +despairing mirth. The fire leapt toward the middle of the room and +fell back so much white ash. Bessie Prawle plumped down to her knees, +huddled, and prayed.</p> + +<p>Andrew King, coming back, found her there at it, alone. His eyes swept +the room. "Mabilla! Bessie Prawle, where is Mabilla?" The girl huddled +and prayed on. He took her by the shoulder and shook<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> her to and fro. +"You foul wench, you piece, this is your doing." Bessie sobbed her +denials, but he would not hear her. Snatching up a staff, he turned, +threw her down in his fury. He left the house and followed the wind.</p> + +<p>The wind caught him the moment he was outside, and swept him onward +whether he would or not. He ran down the bank of the beck which seemed +to be racing him for a prize, leaping and thundering level with its +banks; before he had time to wonder whether the bridge still stood he +was up with it, over it and on the edge of the brae. Up the moorland +road he went, carried rather than running, and where it loses itself +in the first enclosure, being hard up against the wall, over he +vaulted, across the field and over the further wall. Out then upon the +open fell, where the heather makes great cushions, and between all of +them are bogs or stones, he was swept by the wind. It shrieked about +him and carried him up and over as if he were a leaf of autumn. Beyond +that was dangerous ground, but there was no stopping; he was caught in +the flood of the gale. He knew very well, however, whither it was +carrying him: to Knapp, that place of dread, whither he was now sure +Mabilla had been carried, resumed by her own people. There was no +drawing back, there was no time for prayer. All he could do was to +keep his feet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + +<p>He was carried down the Dryhope fell, he said, into the next valley, +swept somehow over the roaring beck in the bottom, and up the rugged +side of Knapp, where the peat-hags are as high as rocks, and presently +knew without the help of his eyes that he was nearing the forest. He +heard the swishing of the trees, the cracking of the boughs, the sharp +crack and crash which told of some limb torn off and sent to ruin; and +he knew also by some hush not far off that the wind, great and furious +as it was, was to be quieted within that awful place. It was so. He +stood panting upon the edge of the wood, out of the wind, which roared +away overhead. He twittered with his foolish lips, not knowing what on +earth to do, nor daring to do anything had he known it; but all the +prayers he had ever learned were driven clean out of his head.</p> + +<p>He could dimly make out the tree-trunks immediately before him, low +bushes, shelves of bracken-fern; he could pierce somewhat into the +gloom beyond and see the solemn trees ranked in their order, and above +them a great soft blackness rent here and there to show the sky. The +volleying of the storm sounded like the sea heard afar off: it was so +remote and steady a noise that lesser sounds were discernible—the +rustlings, squeakings, and snappings of small creatures moving over +small undergrowth. Every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> one of these sent his heart leaping to his +mouth; but all his fears were to be swallowed up in amazement, for as +he stood there distracted, without warning, without shock, there stood +one by him, within touching distance, a child, as he judged it, with +loose hair and bright eyes, prying into his face, smiling at him and +inviting him to come on.</p> + +<p>"Who in God's name—?" cried Andrew King; but the child plucked him +by the coat and tried to draw him into the wood.</p> + +<p>I understand that he did not hesitate. If he had forgotten his gods he +had not forgotten his fairy-wife. I suppose, too, that he knew where +to look for her; he may have supposed that she had been resumed into +her first state. At any rate, he made his way into the forest by +guess-work, aided by reminiscence. I believe he was accustomed to aver +that he "knew where she was very well," and that he took a straight +line to her. I have seen Knapp Forest and doubt it. He did, however, +find himself in the dark spaces of the wood and there, sure enough, he +did also see the women with whom his Mabilla had once been co-mate. +They came about him, he said, like angry cats, hissing and shooting +out their lips. They did not touch him; but if eyes and white hateful +faces could have killed him, dead he had been then and there.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> + +<p>He called upon God and Christ and made a way through them. His senses +had told him where Mabilla was. He found her pale and trembling in an +aisle of the trees. She leaned against a tall tree, perfectly rigid, +"as cold as a stone," staring across him with frozen eyes, her mouth +open like a round O. He took her in his arms and holding her close +turned and defied the "witches"—so he called them in his wrath. He +dared them in the name of God to touch him or his wife, and as he did +so he says that he felt the chill grow upon him. It took him, he said, +in the legs and ran up his body. It stiffened his arms till they felt +as if they must snap under the strain; it caught him in the neck and +fixed it. He felt his eyes grow stiff and hard; he felt himself sway. +"Then," he said, "the dark swam over me, the dark and the bitter cold, +and I knew nothing more." Questioned as he was by Mr. Robson and his +friends, he declared that it was at the name of God the cold got him +first. He saw the women hushed and scared, and at the same time one of +them looked over her shoulder, as if somebody was coming. Had he +called in the King of the Wood? That is what he himself thought. It +was the King of the Wood who had come in quest of Mabilla, had pulled +her out of the cottage in Dryhope and frozen her in the forest. It was +he, no doubt, said Andrew King, who had come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> to defy the Christian +and his God. I detect here the inspiration of his mother Miranda, the +strange sea-woman who knew Mabilla without mortal knowledge and spoke +to her in no mortal speech. But the sequel to the tale is a strange +one.</p> + +<p>Andrew King awoke to find himself in Mabilla's arms, to hear for the +first time in his life Mabilla call him softly by his name. "Andrew, +my husband," she called him, and when he opened his eyes in wonder to +hear her she said, "Andrew, take me home now. It is all over," or +words to that effect. They went along the forest and up and down the +fells together. The wind had dropped, the stars shone. And together +they took up their life where they had dropped it, with one +significant omission in its circumstance. Bessie Prawle had +disappeared from Dryhope. She had followed him up the fell on the +night of the storm, but she came not back. And they say that she never +did. Nothing was found of her body, though search was made; but a comb +she used to wear was picked up, they say, by the tarn on Limmer Fell, +an imitation tortoise-shell comb which used to hold up her hair. +Miranda King, who knew more than she would ever tell, had a shrewd +suspicion of the truth of the case. But Andrew King knew nothing, and +I daresay cared very little. He had his wood-wife, and she had her +voice; and be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>tween them, I believe, they had a child within the year.</p> + +<p>I ought to add that I have, with these eyes, seen Mabilla By-the-Wood +who became Mabilla King. When I went from Dryhopedale to Knapp Forest +she stood at the farmhouse door with a child in her arms. Two others +were tumbling about in the croft. She was a pretty, serious girl—for +she looked quite a girl—with a round face and large greyish-blue +eyes. She had a pink cotton dress on, and a good figure beneath it. +She was pale, but looked healthy and strong. Not a tall girl. I asked +her the best way to Knapp Forest and she came out to the gate to point +it to me. She talked simply, with a northern accent, and might have +been the child of generations of borderers. She pointed me the very +track by which Andrew King must have brought her home, by which the +King of the Wood swept her out on the wings of his wrath; she named +the tarn where once she dwelt as the spirit of a tree. All this +without a flush, a tremor or a sign in her blue eyes that she had ever +known the place. But these people are close, and seldom betray all +that they know or think.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="OREADS" id="OREADS"></a>OREADS</h2> + + +<p>I end this little book with an experience of my own, or rather a +series of experiences, and will leave conclusions to a final chapter. +I don't say that I have no others which could have found a +place—indeed, there are many others. But they were fitful, momentary +things, unaccountable and unrelated to each other, without the main +clue which in itself is too intimate a thing to be revealed just yet, +and I am afraid of compiling a catalogue. I have travelled far and +wide across Europe in my day, not without spiritual experiences. If at +some future time these co-ordinate into a body of doctrine I will take +care to clothe that body in the vesture of print and paper. Here, +meantime, is something of recent years.</p> + +<p>My house at Broad Chalke stands in a narrow valley, which a little +stream waters more than enough. This valley is barely a mile broad +throughout its length, and in my village scarcely half so much. I can +be in the hills in a quarter of an hour, and in five-and-twenty +minutes find myself deeply involved, out of sight of man or his +contrivances. The downs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> in South Wilts are nowhere lofty, and have +none of the abrupt grandeur of those which guard the Sussex coast and +weald; but they are of much larger extent, broader, longer, more +untrodden, made much more intricate by the numberless creeks and +friths which, through some dim cycle of antiquity, the sea, ebbing +gradually to the great Avon delta, must have graved. Beautiful, with +quiet and a solemn peacefulness of their own, they always are. They +endure enormously, <i>in sæcula sæculorum</i>. Storms drive over them, +mists and rains blot them out; rarely they are shrouded in a fleece of +snow. In spring the clouds and the light hold races up their flanks; +in summer they seem to drowse like weary monsters in the still and +fervent heat. They are never profoundly affected by such changes of +Nature's face; grow not awful, sharing her wrath, nor dangerously fair +when she woos them with kisses to love. They are the quiet and sober +spokesmen of earth, clad in Quaker greys and drabs. They show no +crimson at sunset, no gilded livery at dawn. The grey deepens to cool +purple, the brown glows to russet at such festal times. Early in the +spring they may drape themselves in tender green, or show their sides +dappled with the white of sheep. Flowers they bear, but secretly; +little curious orchids, bodied like bees, eyed like spiders, flecked +with the blood-drops of Attis or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> Adonis or some murdered +shepherd-boy; pale scabious, pale cowslip, thyme that breathes sharp +fragrance, "aromatic pain," as you crush it, potentilla, lady's +slipper, cloudy blue milkwort, toad-flax that shows silver to the +wind. Such as these they flaunt not, but wear for choiceness. You +would not see them unless you knew them there. For denizens they have +the hare, the fox, and the badger. Redwings, wheatears, peewits, and +airy kestrels are the people of their skies.</p> + +<p>I love above all the solitude they keep, and to feel the pulsing of +the untenanted air. The shepherd and his sheep, the limping hare, +lagging fox, wheeling, wailing plover; such will be your company: you +may dip deeply into valleys where no others will be by, hear the sound +of your own heart, or the shrilling of the wind in the upland bents. I +have heard, indeed, half a mile above me, the singing of the great +harps of wire which stretch from Sarum to Shaftesbury along the +highest ridge; but such a music is no disturbance of the peace; +rather, it assures you of solitude, for you wouldn't hear it were you +not ensphered with it alone. There's a valley in particular, lying +just under Chesilbury, where I choose most to be. Chesilbury, a huge +grass encampment, three hundred yards square, with fosse and rampart +still sharp, with a dozen gateways and three mist<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>-pools within its +ambit, which stands upon the ancient road and dominates two valleys. +Below that, coming up from the south, is my charmed valley. There, I +know, the beings whom I call Oreads, for want of a homelier word, +haunt and are to be seen now and then. I know, because I myself have +seen them.</p> + +<p>I must describe this Oread-Valley more particularly, I believe. East +and west, above it, runs the old road we call the Race-Plain—the +highest ground hereabouts, rising from Harnham by Salisbury to end at +Shaftesbury in Dorset. North of this ridge is Chesilbury Camp; +immediately south of that is the valley. Here the falling flood as it +drained away must have sucked the soil out sharply at two neighbouring +points, for this valley has two heads, and between them stands a +grass-grown bluff. The western vale-head is quite round but very +steep. It faces due south and has been found grateful by thorns, +elders, bracken and even heather. But the eastern head is sharper, +begins almost in a point. From that it sweeps out in a huge demi-lune +of cliff, the outer cord being the east, the inner hugging the bluff. +Facing north from the valley, facing these two heads, you see the +eastern of them like a great amphitheatre, its steep embayed side so +smooth as to seem the work of men's hands. It is too steep for turf; +it is grey with marl, and patchy where scree of flint and chalk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> has +run and found a lodgment. Ice-worn it may be, man-wrought it is not. +No red-deer picks have been at work there, no bright-eyed, scrambling +hordes have toiled their shifts or left traces through the centuries +as at the Devil's Dyke. This noble arena is Nature's. Here I saw her +people more than once. And the first sign I had of them was this.</p> + + +<p class="f2">I</p> + +<p>I was here alone one summer's night; a night of stars, but without a +moon. I lay within the scrub of the western valley-head and looked +south. I could just see the profile of the enfolding hills, but only +just; could guess that in the soft blackness below me, filling up the +foreground like a lake, the valley was there indeed; realise that if I +stepped down, perhaps thirty yards or so, my feet would sink into the +pile of the turf-carpet, and feel the sharp benediction of the dew. +About me surged and beat an enormous silence. The only sound at +all—and that was fitful—came from a fern-owl which, from a +thorn-bush above me, churred softly and at intervals his content with +the night.</p> + +<p>The stars were myriad, but sky-marks shone out; the Bear, the Belt, +the Chair, the dancing sister Pleiades. The Galaxy was like a +snow-cloud; star<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>tlingly, by one, by two, meteors flared a short +course and died. You never feel lonely when you have the stars; yet +they do not pry upon you. You can hide nothing from them, and need not +seek to hide. If they have foreknowledge, they nurse no after-thought.</p> + +<p>Now, to-night, as I looked and wondered at their beauty, I became +aware of a phenomenon untold before. Yet so quietly did it come, and +so naturally, that it gave me no disturbance, nor forced itself upon +me. A luminous ring, a ring of pale fire, in shape a long, narrow, and +fluctuating oval, became discernible in the sky south of my +stand-point, midway (I thought) between me and the south.</p> + +<p>It was diaphanous, or diaphanous to strong light behind it. At one +time I saw the great beacon of the south-west (Saturn, I think) +burning through it; not within the ring, but from behind the litten +vapour of which the ring was made. Lesser fires than his were put out +by it. It varied very much in shape as it spread or drew out, as a +smoker's blue rings are varied by puffs of wind. Now it was a perfect +round, now so long as to be less a hoop than a fine oblong. Sometimes +it was pear-shaped, sometimes amorphous; bulbous here, hollow there. +And there seemed movement; I thought now and again that it was spiral +as well as circular, that it might, under some stress of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> speed, +writhe upward like dust in a whirlwind. It wavered, certainly, in +elevation, lifting, sinking, wafted one way or another with the ease +of a cloud of gnats. It was extraordinarily beautiful and exciting. I +watched it for an hour.</p> + +<p>At times I seemed to be conscious of more than appearance. I cannot +speak more definitely than that. Music was assuredly in my head, very +shrill, piercing, continuous music. No air, no melody, but the +expectancy of an air, preparation for it, a prelude to melodious +issues. You may say the overture to some vast aerial symphony; I know +not what else to call it. I was never more than alive to it, never +certain of it. It was as furtive, secret, and tremulous as the dawn +itself. Now, just as under that shivering and tentative opening of +great music you are conscious of the fierce energy of violins, so was +I aware, in this surmise of music, of wild forces which made it. I +thought not of voices but of wings. I was sure that this ring of flame +whirled as well as floated in the air; the motion and the sound, alike +indecipherable, were one and the same to me.</p> + +<p>I watched it, I say, for an hour: it may have been for two hours. +By-and-by it came nearer, gradually very near. It was now dazzling, +not to be looked at full; but its rate of approach was inappreciable, +and as it came on I was able to peer into it and see nothing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> but its +beauty. There was a core of intensity, intolerably bright; about that, +lambency but no flame, in which I saw leaves and straws and fronds of +fern flickering, spiring, heeling over and over. That it whirled as +well as floated was now clear, for a strong wind blew before and after +it as it rushed by. This happened as I sat there. Blinding but not +burning, heralded by a keen wind, it came by me and passed; a swift +wind followed it as it went. It swept out toward the hollow of the +eastern valley-head, seemed to strike upon that and glance upward; +thence it swept gladly up, streaming to the zenith, grew thin, fine +and filmy, and seemed to melt into the utmost stars. I had seen +wonders and went home full of thought.</p> + + +<p class="f2">II</p> + +<p>I first saw an Oread in this place in a snow-storm which, driven by a +north-westerly gale, did havoc to the lowlands, but not to the folded +hills. I had pushed up the valley in the teeth of the storm to see it +under the white stress. It was hard work for me and my dog; I had to +wade knee-deep, and he to jump, like a cat in long grass, through the +drifts. But we reached our haven and found shelter from the weather. +High above us where we stood the snow-flakes tossed and rioted, but +before they fell upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> us being out of the wind, they drifted idly +down, <i>come ... in Alpe senza vento</i>. The whole valley was purely +white, its outlines blurred by the slant-driving snow. There was not a +living creature to be seen, and my dog, a little sharp-nosed black +beast, shivered as he looked about, with wide eyes and quick-set ears, +for a friendly sight, and held one paw tentatively in the air, as if +he feared the cold.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he yelped once, and ran, limping on three legs or scuttling +on all four, over the snow toward the great eastern escarpment, but +midway stopped and looked with all his might into its smoothed hollow. +His jet-black ears stood sharp as a hare's; through the white scud I +was conscious that he trembled. He gazed into the sweep of the curving +hill, and following the direction he gave me, all my senses quick, I +gazed also, but for a while saw nothing.</p> + +<p>Very gradually, without alarm on my part, a blur of colour seemed to +form itself and centre in one spot, half-way up the concave of the +down; very pale yellow, a soft, lemon colour. At first scarcely more +than a warm tinge to the snow, it took shape as I watched it, and then +body also. It was now opaque within semi-transparency; one could trace +an outline, a form. Then I made out of it a woman dressed in yellow; a +slim woman, tawny-haired, in a thin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> smock of lemon-yellow which +flacked and bellied in the gale. Her hair blew out to it in snaky +streamers, sideways. Her head was bent to meet the cold, her bare +white arms were crossed, and hugged her shoulders, as if to keep her +bosom warm. From mid-thigh downward she was bare and very white, yet +distinct upon the snow. That was the white of chilled flesh I could +see. Though she wore but a single garment, and that of the thinnest +and shortest, though she suffered cold, hugged herself and shivered, +she was not of our nature, to die of such exposure. Her eyes, as I +could guess, were long-enduring and steadfast. Her lips were not blue, +though her teeth seemed to chatter; she was not rigid with the +stiffening that precedes frozen death. Drawing near her by degrees, +coming within fifteen yards of where she stood and passioned, though +she saw me, waited for me, in a way expected me, she showed neither +fear nor embarrassment, nor appealed by looks for shelter. She was, +rather, like a bird made tame by winter, that finds the lesser fear +swallowed up in a greater. For myself, as when one finds one's self +before a new thing, one stands and gazes, so was I before this being +of the wild. I would go no nearer, speak I could not. But I had no +fear. She was new to me not strange. I felt that she and I belonged to +worlds apart; that as soon might I hope to be famil<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>iar with fox or +marten as with her. My little black dog was of the same mind. He was +glad when I joined him, and wagged his little body—tail he has +none—to say so. But he had no eyes for me, nor I for him. We stood +together for company, and filled our eyes with the tenant of the +waste. How long we watched her I have no notion, but the day fell +swiftly in and found us there.</p> + +<p>She was, I take it, quite young, she was slim and of ordinary +proportions. When I say that I mean that she had nothing inhuman about +her stature, was neither giant nor pygmy. Whether she was what we call +good-looking or not I find it impossible to determine, for when +strangeness is so added to beauty as to absorb and transform it, our +standards are upset and balances thrown out. She was pale to the lips, +had large, fixed and patient eyes. Her arms and legs showed greyish in +the white storm, but where the smock was cut off the shadows it made +upon her were faintly warm. One of her knees was bent, the foot +supported only by the toes. The other was firm upon the ground: she +looked, to the casual eye, to be standing on one leg. Her eyes in a +stare covered me, but were not concerned to see me so near. They had +the undiscerning look of one whose mind is numbed, as hers might well +be. Shelter—a barn, a hayrick—lay within a mile of her; and yet she +chose to suffer the cold, and was able to endure it. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> knew it, I +supposed, for a thing not to be avoided; she took it as it came—as +she would have taken the warmth and pleasure of the sun. We humankind +with our wits for ever turned inward to ourselves, grieve or exult as +we bid ourselves: she, like all other creatures else, was not in that +self-relation; her parts were closer-knit, and could not separate to +envisage each other. So, at least, I read her—that she lived as she +could and as she must, neither looked back with regret nor forward +with longing. Time present, the flashing moment, was all her being. +That state will never be ours again.</p> + +<p>I discovered before nightfall what she waited for there alone in the +cruel weather. A moving thing emerged from the heart of the white +fury, came up the valley along the shelving down: a shape like hers, +free-moving, thinly clad, suffering yet not paralysed by the storm. It +shaped as a man, a young man, and her mate. Taller, darker, stoutlier +made, his hardy legs were browner, and so were his arms—crossed like +hers over his breast and clasping his shoulders. His head was bare, +dark and crisply covered with short hair. His smock whipped about him +before, as the wind drove it; behind him it flacked and fluttered like +a flag. Patiently forging his way, bowing his head to the gale, he +came into range; and she, aware of him, waited.</p> + +<p>He came directly to her. They greeted by touch<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>ings. He stretched out +his hands to her, touched her shoulders and sides. He touched both her +cheeks, her chin, the top of her head, all with the flat of the palm. +He stroked her wet and streaming hair. He held her by the shoulders +and peered into her face, then put both arms about her and drew her to +him. She, who had so far made no motions of her own, now uncrossed her +arms and daintily touched him in turn. She put both her palms flat +upon his breast; next on his thighs, next, being within the circle of +his arms, she put up her hands and cupped his face. Then, with a +gesture like a sigh, she let them fall to his waist, fastened them +about him and let her head lie on his bosom. She shut her eyes, seemed +contented and appeased. He clasped her, with a fine, protecting air +upon him, looking down tenderly at her resting head. So they stood +together in the dusk, while the wind tore at their thin covering, and +the snow, lying, made a broad patch of white upon his shoulder.</p> + +<p>Breathless I looked at them, and my dog forgot to be cold. High on his +haunches, with lifted forepaw and sharp-cocked ears, he watched, +trembled and whined.</p> + +<p>After a while, impatient as it appeared of the ravaging storm, the +male drew the female to the ground. They used no language, as we +understand it, and made no sign that I could see, but rather sank +to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>gether to get the shelter of the drift. He lay upon the snow, upon +the weather side, she close beside him. They crouched like two birds +in a storm, and hid their heads under their interlacing arms. He gave +the weather his back, and raised himself on his elbow, the better to +shield her. Within his arm she lay and cuddled to him snugly. I can +describe his action no more closely than by saying that he covered her +as a hen her chick. As a partridge grouts with her wings in a dusty +furrow, so he worked in the powdered snow to make her a nest. When the +night fell upon them, with its promise of bitter frost in the +unrelenting wind, she lay screened against its rigours by the shelter +of him. They were very still. Their heads were together, their cheeks +touched. I believe that they slept.</p> + + +<p class="f2">III</p> + +<p>In the autumn, in harvest-time, I saw her with a little one. She was +lying now, deeply at ease, in the copse wood of the valley-head, +within a nest of brake-fern, and her colouring was richer, more in +tune with the glory of the hour. She had a burnt glow in her cheeks; +her hair showed the hue of the corn which, not a mile away, our people +were reaping afield. From where we were, she and I, one could hear the +rattle of the machine as it swept down the tall and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> serried wheat. It +was the top of noon when I found her; the sun high in heaven, but so +fierce in his power that you saw him through a mist of his own making, +and the sky all about him white as a sea-fog. The Oread's body was +sanguine brown, only her breast, which I saw half-revealed through a +slit in her smock, was snowy white. It was the breast of a maiden, not +of a mother with a young child.</p> + +<p>She leaned over it and watched it asleep. Once or twice she touched +its head in affection; then presently looked up and saw me. If I had +had no surprise coming upon her, neither now had she. Her eyes took me +in, as mine might take in a tree not noticed before, or a flowering +bush, or a finger-post. Such things might well be there, and might +well not be; I had no particular interest for her, and gave her no +alarm. Nothing assures me so certainly of her remoteness from myself, +and of my kinship with her too, as this absence of shock.</p> + +<p>She allowed me to come nearer, and nearer still, to stand close over +her and examine the child. She did not lift her head, but I knew that +she was aware of me; for her eyelids lifted and fell quickly, and +showed me once or twice her watchful eyes. She was indeed a beautiful +creature, exquisite in make and finish. Her skin shone like the petals +of certain flowers. There is one especially, called <i>Sisyrinchium</i>,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +whose common name of Satin-flower describes a surface almost metallic +in its lustre. I thought of that immediately: her skin drank in and +exhaled light. I could not hit upon the stuff of which her shift was +made. It looked like coarse silk, had a web, had fibres or threads. It +may have been flax, but that it was much too sinuous. It seemed to +stick to the body where it touched, even to seek the flesh where it +did not touch, that it might cling like gossamer with invisible +tentacles. In colour it was very pale yellow, not worn nor stained. It +was perfectly simple, sleeveless, and stopped half-way between the hip +and the knee. I looked for, but could not discover, either hem or +seam. Her feet and hands were very lovely, the toes and fingers long +and narrow, rosy-brown. I had full sight of her eyes for one throbbing +moment. Extraordinarily bright, quick and pulsing, waxing and waning +in intensity (as if an inner light beat in them), of the grey colour +of a chipped flint stone. The lashes were long, curving and very dark; +they were what you might call smut-colour and gave a blurred effect to +the eyes which was strange. This, among other things, was what set her +apart from us, this and the patient yet palpitating stare of her +regard. She looked at me suddenly, widely and full, taking in much +more than me, yet making me the centre of her vision. It gave me the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +idea that she was surprised at my nearness and ready for any attack, +but did not seek to avoid it. There I was overstanding her and her +offspring; and what was must be.</p> + +<p>Of the little one I could not see much. It was on its side in the +fern, fast asleep. Its arms were stretched up the slope, its face was +between them. Its knees were bent and a little foot tucked up to touch +its body. Quite naked, brown all over, it was as plump and smooth and +tender as a little pig. But it was not pink; it was very brown.</p> + +<p>All nature seemed at the top of perfection that wonderful day. A hawk +soared high in the blue, bees murmured all about, the distance +quivered. I could see under the leaves of a great mullein the bright +eyes, then the round body of a mouse. Afar off the corn-cutter rattled +and whirred, and above us on the ridgeway some workmen sat at their +dinner under the telegraph wires. Men were all about us at their +affairs with Nature's face; and here stood I, a man of themselves, and +at my feet the Oread lay at ease and watched her young. There was food +for wonder in all this, but none for doubt. Who knows what his +neighbour sees? Who knows what his dog? Every species of us walks +secret from the others; every species of us the centre of his +universe, its staple of measure, and its final cause. And if at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> times +one is granted a peep into new heavens and a new earth, and can get no +more, perhaps the best thing we win from that is the conviction that +we must doubt nothing and wonder at everything. Here, now, was I, +common, blundering, trampling, make-shift man, peering upon my +Oread—fairy of the hill, whatever she was—and tempted to gauge her +by my man-taught balances of right and wrong, and use and wont. Was +that young male who had sheltered her in the snow her mate in truth, +the father of her young one? Or what sort of mating had been hers? +What wild love? What mysteries of the night? And where was he now? And +was he one, or were they many, who companioned this beautiful thing? +And would he come if I waited for him? And would he share her watch, +her quiet content, her still rapture?</p> + +<p>Idle, man-made questions, custom-taught! I did wait. I sat by her +waiting. But he did not come.</p> + + +<p class="f2">IV</p> + +<p>A month later, in October, I saw a great assembling of Oreads, by +which I was able to connect more than one experience. I could now +understand the phenomenon of the luminous ring.</p> + +<p>I reached the valley by about six o'clock in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> evening. It was +twilight, not yet dusk. The sun was off the hollow, which lay in blue +mist, but above the level of the surrounding hills the air was bathed +in the sunset glow. The hush of evening was over all, the great cup of +the down absolutely desert; there were no birds, nor voices of birds; +not a twig snapped, not a leaf rustled. Imperceptibly the shadows +lengthened, faded with the light; and again behind the silence I +guessed at, rather than discerned, a preparatory, gathering music. So +finally, by twos and threes, they came to their assembling.</p> + +<p>Once more I never saw them come. Out of the mist they drifted +together. There had been a moment when they were not there; there was +a moment when I saw them. I saw three of them together, two females +and a male. They formed a circle, facing inwards, their arms +intertwined. The pale colour of their garments, the grey tones in +their flesh were so perfectly in tune with the hazy light, that it +would have been impossible, I am certain, to have seen them at all at +a hundred yards' distance. I could not determine whether they were +conversing or not: if they were, it was without speech. I have never +heard an articulate sound from any one of them, and have no provable +reason for connecting the unvoiced music I have sometimes discerned +with any act of theirs. It has accompanied them, and may have +proceeded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> from them—but I don't know that. Of these three linked +together I remember that one of them threw back her head till she +faced the sky. She did not laugh, or seem to be laughing: there was no +sound. It was rather as if she was bathing her face in the light. She +threw her head back so far that I could see the gleam in her wild +eyes; her hair streamed downward, straight as a fall of water. The +other two regarded her, and the male presently withdrew one of his +arms from the circle and laid his hand upon her. She let it be so; +seemed not to notice.</p> + +<p>Imperceptibly others had come about these three. If I took my eyes off +a group for a moment they were attracted to other groups or single +shapes. Some lay at ease on the sward, resting on elbow; some prone, +on both elbows; some seemed asleep, their heads on molehill pillows; +some sat huddling together, with their chins upon their knees; some +knelt face to face and held each other fondly; some were teasing, some +chasing others, winding in and out of the scattered groups. But +everything was doing in complete silence.</p> + +<p>Now and again one, flying from another, would rise in the air, the +pursuer following. They skimmed, soared, glided like swallows, in long +sweeping curves—there was no noise in their flight. They were quite +without reticence in their intercourse; desired or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> avoided, loved or +hated as the moment urged them; strove to win, struggled to escape, +achieved or surrendered without remark from their companions. They +were like children or animals. Desire was reason good; and if love was +soon over, hate lasted no longer. One passion or the other set them +scuffling: when it was spent they had no after-thought.</p> + +<p>One pretty sight I saw. A hare came lolloping over the valley bottom, +quite at his ease. In the midst of the assembly he stopped to nibble, +then reared himself up and cleaned his face. He saw them and they him +without concern on either side.</p> + +<p>The valley filled up; I could not count the shifting, crossing, +restless shapes I saw down there. Presently, without call or signal, +as if by one consent, the Oreads joined hands and enclosed the whole +circuit in their ring. The effect in the dusk was of a pale glow, as +of the softest fire, defining the contour of the valley; and soon they +were moving, circling round and round. Shriller and louder swelled the +hidden music, and faster span the ring. It whirled and wavered, lifted +and fell, but so smoothly, with such inherent power of motion, that it +was less like motion visible than motion heard. Nothing was +distinguishable but the belt of pale fire. That which I had seen +before they had now become—a ring of flame intensely swift. As if +sucked upward by a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> centripetal force it rose in the air. Wheeling +still with a sound incredibly shrill it rose to my level, swept by me +heralded by a keen wind, and was followed by a draught which caught +leaves and straws of grass and took them swirling along. Round and up, +and ever up it went, narrowing and spiring to the zenith. There, +looking long after it, I saw it diminish in size and brightness till +it became filmy as a cloud, then melted into the company of the +stars.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="A_SUMMARY_CHAPTER" id="A_SUMMARY_CHAPTER"></a>A SUMMARY CHAPTER</h2> + + +<p>Now, it is the recent publication by Mr. Evans Wentz of a careful and +enthusiastic work upon <i>The Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries</i> which has +inspired me to put these pages before the public. Some of them have +appeared in the magazines as curious recitals and may have afforded +pastime to the idle-minded, but without the courageous initiative of +Mr. Wentz I don't know that I should have attempted to give them such +coherence as they may claim to possess. And that, I fear, will be very +little without this chapter in which I shall, if I can, clear the +ground for a systematic study of the whole subject. No candid reader +can, I hope, rise from the perusal of the book without the conviction +that behind the world of appearance lies another and a vaster with a +thronging population of its own—with many populations, indeed, each +absorbed in uttering its being according to its own laws. If I have +afforded nothing else I have afforded glimpses into that world; and +the question now is, What do we precisely gather, what can we be said +to know of the laws of that world in which these swift, beautiful and +appar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>ently ruthless creatures live and move and utter themselves? I +shall have to draw upon more than I have recorded here: cases which I +have heard of, which I have read of in other men's books, as well as +those which are related here as personal revelation. If I speak +pragmatically, <i>ex cathedrâ</i>, it is not intentional. If I fail +sometimes to give chapter and verse it will be because I have never +taken any notes of what has gone into my memory, and have no documents +to hand. But I don't invent; I remember.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>There is a chain of Being of whose top alike and bottom we know +nothing at all. What we do know is that our own is a link in it, and +cannot generally, can only fitfully and rarely, have intercourse with +any other. I am not prepared with any modern instances of intercourse +with the animal and vegetable world, even to such a limited extent, +for instance, as that of Balaam with his ass, or that of Achilles with +his horses; but I suspect that there are an enormous number +unrecorded. Speech, of course, is not necessary to such an +intercourse. Speech is a vehicle of human intercourse, but not of that +of any other created order so far as we know.<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> Birds and beasts do +not converse in speech, smell or touch seems to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>be the sense +employed; and though the vehicles of smell and touch are unknown to +us, in moments of high emotion we ourselves converse otherwise than by +speech. Indeed, seeing that all created things possess a spirit +whereby they are what they are, it does not seem necessary to suppose +intercourse impossible without speech, and I myself have never had any +difficulty in accepting the stories of much more vital mixed +intercourse which we read of in the Greek and other mythologies. If we +read, for instance, that such and such a man or woman was the +offspring of a woman and the spirit of a river, or of a man and the +spirit of a hill or oak-tree, it does not seem to me at all +extraordinary. The story of the wife who suffered a fairy union and +bore a fairy child which disappeared with her is a case in point. The +fairy father was, so far as I can make out, the indwelling spirit of a +rose, and the story is too painful and the detail in my possession too +exact for me to put it down here. I was myself actually present, and +in the house, when the child was born. I witnessed the anguish of the +unfortunate husband, who is now dead. Mr. Wentz has many instances of +the kind from Ireland and other Celtic countries; but fairies are by +no means confined to Celtic countries, though they are more easily +discerned by Celtic races.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> The speech of Balaam's ass or of Balaam, of Achilles and +his horses are, of course, necessary conventions of the poet's and do +not imply that words passed between the parties.</p></div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> + +<p>Of this chain of Being, then, of which our order is a member, the +fairy world is another and more subtle member, subtler in the right +sense of the word because it is not burdened with a material envelope. +Like man, like the wind, like the rose, it has spirit; but unlike any +of the lower orders, of which man is one, it has no sensible wrapping +unless deliberately it consents to inhabit one. This, as we know, it +frequently does. I have mentioned several cases of the kind; Mrs. +Ventris was one, Mabilla By-the-Wood was another. I have not +personally come across any other cases where a male fairy took upon +him the burden of a man than that of Quidnunc. Even there I have never +been satisfied that Quidnunc became man to the extent that Mrs. +Ventris did. Quidnunc, no doubt, was the father of Lady Emily's +children; but were those children human? There are some grounds for +thinking so, and in that case, if "the nature follows the male," +Quidnunc must have doffed his immateriality and suffered real +incarnation. If they were fairy children the case is altered. Quidnunc +need not have had a body at all. Now since it is clear that the fairy +world is a real order of creation, with laws of its own every whit as +fixed and immutable as those of any other order known to naturalists, +it is very reasonable to inquire into the nature and scope of those +laws. I am not at all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> prepared at present to attempt anything like a +digest of them. That would require a lifetime; and no small part of +the task, after marshalling the evidence, would be to agree upon terms +which would be intelligible to ourselves and yet not misleading. To +take polity alone, are we to understand that any kind of Government +resembling that of human societies obtains among them? When we talk of +Queens or Kings of the Fairies, of Oberon and Titania, for example, +are we using a rough translation of a real something, or are we +telling the mere truth? Is there a fairy king? The King of the Wood, +for instance, who was he? Is there a fairy queen? Who is Queen Mab? +Who is Despoina? Who is the Lady of the Lake? Who is the "Βασίλισσα τὣν βουνὣν," or "Μεγάλη Κυρά" of whom Mr. +Lawson tells us such suggestive things in his <i>Modern Greek +Folk-lore?</i> Who is Despoina, with whom I myself have conversed, "a +dread goddess, not of human speech?" The truth, I suspect, is this. +There are, as we know, countless tribes, clans, or orders of fairies, +just as there are nations of men. They confess the power of some +greater Spirit among themselves, bow to it instantly and submit to its +decrees; but they do not, so far as I can understand, acknowledge a +monarchy in any sense of ours. If there is a Supreme Power over the +fairy creation it is Proserpine; but hers is <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>too remote an empire to +be comparable to any of ours. Not even Cæsar, not even the Great King, +could hope to rule such myriads as she. She may stand for the +invisible creation no doubt, but she would never have commerce with +it. No fairy hath seen her at any time; no sovereignty such as we are +now discussing would be applicable to her dominion. That of Artemis, +or that of Pan, is more comparable. Artemis is certainly ruler of the +spirits of the air and water, of the hills and shores of the sea, and +to some extent her power overlaps that of Pan who is potent in nearly +all land solitudes. But really the two lord-ships can be exactly +discriminated. They never conflict. The legions of Artemis are all +female, though on earth men as well as women worship her; the legions +of Pan are all male, though on earth he can chasten women as well as +men.<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> But Pan can do nothing against Artemis, nor she anything +against him or any of his. The decree or swift deed of either is +respected by the other. They are not, then, as earthly kings, leaders +of their hosts to battle against their neighbours. Fairies fight and +marshal themselves for war; Mr. Wentz has several cases of the kind. +But Pan and Artemis have no share in these warfares. Queen Mab is one +of the many names, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>and points to one of the many manifestations of +Artemis; the Lady of the Lake is another. Both of these have died out, +and in the country she is generally hinted at under the veil of +"Mistress of the Wood" or "Lady of the Hill." I heard the latter from +a Wiltshire shepherd; the former is used in Sussex, in the Cheviots, +and in Lincolnshire, and was introduced, I believe, by the Gipsies. +Titania was a name of romance, and so was Oberon, that of her husband +in romance. Queen Mab has no husband, nor will she ever have.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> But if this is true, who is the King of the Wood? The +statement is too sweeping.</p></div></div> + +<p>But she is, of course, a goddess, and not a queen in our sense of the +word. The fairies, who partake of her nature just so far as we partake +of theirs, pray to her, invoke her, and make her offerings every day. +But a vital difference between their kind and ours is that they can +see her and live; and we never see the Gods until we die.</p> + +<p>They have no other leaders, I believe, and certainly no royal houses. +Faculty is free in the fairy world to its utmost limit. A fairy's +power within his own order is limited only by the extent of his +personal faculty, and subject only to the Gods. There is no civil law +to restrain him, and no moral law; no law at all except the law of +being.<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Apparent eccentricities of this law, such as the +obedience to iron, or zinc (if we may believe Beckwith), should be +noted. I can't explain them. They seem arbitrary at first sight, but +nothing in Nature is arbitrary.</p></div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> + +<p>We are contemplating, then, a realm, nay, a world, where anarchy is +the rule, and anarchy in the widest sense. The fairies are of a world +where Right and Wrong don't obtain, where Possible and Impossible are +the only finger-posts at cross-roads; for the Gods themselves give no +moral sanction to desire and hold up no moral check. The fairies love +and hate intensely; they crave and enjoy; they satisfy by kindness or +cruelty; they serve or enslave each other; they give life or take it +as their instinct, appetite or whim may be. But there is this +remarkable thing to be noted, that when a thing is dead they cannot be +aware of its existence. For them it is not, it is as if it had never +been. Ruth, therefore, is unknown, their emotions are maimed to that +serious extent that they cannot regret, cannot pity, cannot weep for +sorrow. They weep through rage, but sorrow they know not. Similarly, +they cannot laugh for joy. Laughing with them is an expression of +pleasure, but not of joy. Here then, at least, we have the better of +them. I for one would not exchange my privilege of pity or my +consolation of pure sorrow for all their transcendent faculty.</p> + +<p>It is often said that fairies of both sexes seek our kind because we +know more of the pleasure of love than they do. Since we know more of +the griefs of it that is likely to be true; but it is a great mistake<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +to suppose that they are unsusceptible to the great heights and deeps +of the holy passion. It is to make the vulgar confusion between the +passion and the expression of it. They are capable of the greatest +devotion to the beloved, of the greatest sacrifice of all—the +sacrifice of their own nature. These fairy-wives of whom I have been +speaking—Miranda King, Mabilla By-the-Wood—when they took upon them +our nature, and with it our power of backward-looking and +forward-peering, was what they could remember, was what they must +dread, no sacrifice? They could have escaped at any moment, mind you, +and been free.<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> Resuming their first nature they would have lost +regret. But they did not. Love was their master. There are many cases +of the kind. With men it is otherwise. I have mentioned Mary Wellwood, +the carpenter's wife, twice taken by a fairy and twice recaptured. The +last time she was brought back to Ashby-de-la-Zouche she died there. +But there is reason for this. A woman marrying a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>male fairy gets +some, but not all, of the fairy attributes, while her children have +them in full at birth. She bears them with all the signs of human +motherhood, and directly they are born her earthly rights and duties +cease. She does not nurse them and she can only rise in the air when +they are with her. That means that she cannot go after them if they +are long away from her, unless she can get another fairy to keep her +company. By the same mysterious law she can only conceal herself, or +doff her appearance, with the aid of a fairy. For some time after her +abduction or surrender her husband has to nourish her by breathing +into her mouth; but with the birth of her first child she can support +herself in the fairy manner. It was owing to this imperfect state of +being that Mary Wellwood was resumed by her friends the first time. +The second time she went back of her own accord.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> When a fairy marries a man she gradually loses her +fairy-power and her children have none of it or only vestiges—so much +as the children of a genius may perhaps exhibit. I am not able to say +how long the fairy-wife's ability to resume her own nature lasts. <i>The +Forsaken Merman</i> occurs to one; but I doubt if Miranda King, at the +time, say, of her son's marriage with Mabilla, could have gone back to +the sea. Sometimes, as in Mrs. Ventris's case, fairy-wives play truant +for a night or for a season. I have reason to believe that not +uncommon. The number of fairy-wives in England alone is very +considerable—over a quarter of a million, I am told.</p></div></div> + +<p>But with regard to their love-business among themselves it is a very +different matter, so far as I can understand it. The fairy child is +initiated at the age of puberty and is then competent to pair. He is +not long in selecting his companion; nor does she often seem to refuse +him, though mating is done by liking in all cases and has nothing +whatever to do with the parents. It must be remembered, of course, +that they are subject to the primitive law from which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> man only has +freed himself. They frequently fight for the possession of the female, +or measure their powers against each other; and she goes with the +victor or the better man.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> I don't know any case where the advance +has been made by the female. Pairing may be for a season or for a +period or for life. I don't think there is any rule; but in all cases +of separation the children are invariably divided—the males to the +father, the females to the mother. After initiation the children owe +no allegiance to their parents. Love with them is a wild and wonderful +rapture in all its manifestations, and without regard necessarily to +sex. I never, in my life, saw a more beautiful expression of it than +in the two females whom I saw greet and embrace on Parliament Hill. +Their motions to each other, their looks and their clinging were +beyond expression tender and swift. Nor shall I ever forget the pair +of Oreads in the snow, of whose meeting I have said as much as is +possible in a previous chapter. It must be remembered that I am +dealing with an order of Nature which knows nothing of our shames and +qualms, which is not only unconscious of itself but unconscious of +anything but its immediate desire; but I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>am dealing with it to the +understanding of a very different order, to whom it is not enough to +do a thing which seems good in its own eyes, but requisite also to be +sure of the approbation of its fellow-men. I should create a wrong +impression were I to enlarge upon this branch of my subject; I should +make my readers call fairies shameful when as a fact they know not the +meaning of shame, or reprove them for shamelessness when, indeed, they +are luckily without it. I shall make bold to say once for all that as +it is absurd to call the lightning cruel, so it is absurd to call +shameful those who know nothing about the deformity. No one can know +what love means who has not seen the fairies at their loving—and so +much for that.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> I saw an extraordinary case of that, where a male came +suddenly before a mated pair, asserted himself and took her to himself +incontinent. There was no fighting. He stood and looked. The period of +suspense was breathless but not long.</p></div></div> + +<p>The laws which govern the appearance of fairies to mankind or their +commerce with men and women seem to be conditioned by the ability of +men to perceive them. The senses of men are figuratively speaking +lenses coloured or shaped by personality. How are we to know the form +and pressure of the great river Enipeus, whose shape, for the love of +Tyro, Poseidon took? And so the accounts of fairy appearance, of fairy +shape, size, vesture, will vary in the measure of the faculty of the +percipient. To me, personally, the fairies seem to go in gowns of +yellow, grey, russet or green, but mostly in yellow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> or grey. The +Oreads or Spirits of the hills vary. In winter their vesture is +yellow, in summer it is ash-green. The Dryad whom I saw was in grey, +the colour of the lichened oak-tree out of which she gleamed. The +fairies in a Norman forest had long brown garments, very close and +clinging, to the ankles. They were belted, and their hair was loose. +But that is invariable. I never saw a fairy with snooded or tied up +hair. They are always bare-footed. Despoina is the only fairy I ever +saw in any other colour than those I have named. She always wears +blue, of the colour of the shadows on a moonlight night, very +beautiful. She, too, wears sandals, which they say the Satyrs weave +for her as a tribute. They lay them down where she has been or is +likely to be; for they never see her.</p> + +<p>But this matter of vesture is really a digression: I have more +important matter in hand, and that is to consider the intercourse +between fairy and mortal, as it is governed by appearance. How does a +man, for instance, gain a fairy-wife? How does a woman give herself to +a fairy-lover? I have given a careful account of a case of each sort +in answer. Young King gained his wife by capture; Lady Emily Rich +followed her lover at a look.</p> + +<p>But this does not really touch the point, which is, rather, how was +Lady Emily Rich brought or put<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> into such a relation with Quidnunc +that she could receive a look from him? How was King put into such a +relation with Mabilla that he could take her away from her own people? +There must have been an incarnation, you would say; and I should agree +with you. Now in Andrew King's case there was belief to go upon, the +belief common to all the Cheviot side, handed down to it from untold +generations and never lost; coupled with that, there was an intense +and probably long-standing desire in the young man himself to realise +and substantiate his belief. He had brooded over it, his fancy had +gone to work upon it; he loved his Mabilla before ever he saw her; his +love, it was, which evoked her. And I take it as proved—at any rate +it is proved to my own satisfaction—that faith coupled with desire +has power—the power of suggestion it is called—over Spirit as it +certainly has over Matter. If I say, then, that Andrew King evoked +Mabilla By-the-Wood, called her out of her own world into his, I +assert two things: the first, that she was really at one time in her +own world, the second, that she was afterward really in his. The +second my own senses can vouch for. That she was fetched back by the +King of the Wood and recaptured by Andrew are minor points. Grant the +first taking and there is no difficulty about them.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lawson gives cases from Greece which point<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> to certain ritual +performances on the part of the lover; the snatching, for instance, of +a handkerchief from the beloved, of which the preservation is +tantamount to the permanence of the subsequent union. He has a curious +case, too, of a peasant who married a nymph and gave her a child but +could not make her speak to him. He consulted a wise woman who advised +him to threaten her with the fire for the baby if she would not talk. +He did it and the charm worked. The Nymph spoke fiercely to him, "You +dog, leave my child alone," she said, and seized it from him, and with +it disappeared. That is parallel to my case where love made Mabilla +speak. It was love for her husband, to be sure; but she had then no +children.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wentz gets no evidence of fairy-wives from Ireland, but a great +number out of Wales. One of them is the beautiful tale of Einion and +Olwen (p. 161) which has many points of resemblance with mine from the +Border. Einion also seems to have met the King of the Wood. Like +Andrew King he was kissed by the nymphs, but only by one of them; but +unlike him he stayed in their country for a year and a day, then went +back to his own people, and finally returned for his fairy-wife. +Taliesin was their son. No conditions seem to have been made.</p> + +<p>So much for fairy brides, but now for fairy grooms.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> I have two cases +to add to that of Quidnunc, but before giving them, let me say of his +affair that since the suggestion there seems to have come from him to +the woman, the incarnation, if such there were, must have been +voluntary. Evocation was not instrumental in it. He appeared before +her, as she had appeared before others, many others, including myself, +and his subsequent commerce with her was achieved by his own personal +force. You may say that she had been prepared to see him by belief and +desire, by belief and desire acting upon a mind greatly distressed and +probably overwrought. You may say that she saw what she ardently +desired to see. It is quite true, I cannot deny it; but I point to his +previous manifestations, and leave it there.</p> + +<p>Here is a tale to the purpose which I got out of Worcestershire. Two +girls, daughter and niece of a farmer, bosom friends and bed-fellows, +became involved in a love-affair and, desperate of a happy issue, +attempted a charm to win their lovers back. On All Hallow Eve, two +hours before the sun, they went into the garden, barefoot, in their +nightgowns and circled about a stone which was believed to be +bewitched.<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> They used certain words, the Lord's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>prayer backward or +what not, and had an apparition. A brown man came out of the bushes +and looked at them for some time. Then he came to them, paralysed as +they may have been, and peering closely into the face of one of them +gave her a flower and disappeared. That same evening they kept the +Hallow E'en with the usual play, half-earnest, half-game, and, among +other things which they did, "peascodded" the girls. The game is a +very old one, and consists in setting the victim in a chair with her +back to the door while her companions rub her down with handfuls of +pea-shucks. During this ceremony if any man enter the room he is her +lover, and she is handed over to him. This was done, then, to one of +the girls who had dared the dawn magic; and in the midst of it a brown +man, dressed in a smock-frock tied up with green ribbons, appeared, +standing in the door. He took the girl by the hand and led her out of +the house. She was seen no more that night, nor for many days +afterward, though her parents and neighbours hunted her far and wide. +By-and-by she was reported at a village some ten or twelve miles off +on the Shropshire border, where some shepherds had found her wandering +the hill. She was brought home but could give no good account of +herself, or would not. She said that she had followed her lover, +married him, and lost him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> Nothing would comfort her, nothing could +keep her in the house. She was locked in, but made her way out; she +was presently sent to the lunatic asylum, but escaped from that. Then +she got away for good and all and never came back again. No trace of +her body could be found. What are you to make of a thing of the sort? +I give it for what it is worth, with this note only, that the +apparition was manifest to several persons, though not, I fancy, to +any but the girls concerned in the peascodding.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> It is said to have been the base of a Roman terminal +statue, but I have not seen it.</p></div></div> + +<p>The Willow-lad's is another tale of the same kind. It was described in +1787 by the Reverend Samuel Jordan in the <i>Gentleman's Magazine</i>, if I +am not mistaken.</p> + +<p>The Willow-lad was an apparition which was believed to appear in a +withy-bed on the banks of the Ouse near Huntingdon. He could only be +seen at dusk, and only by women. He had a sinister reputation, and to +say of a girl that she had been to the withy-bed was a broad hint that +she was no better than she should be. Yet, according to Mr. Jordan, +the girls did go there in numbers, and to such effect that by an order +of the Town Council the place was stubbed up. You had to go alone to +the withy-bed between sunset and sunrise of a moonless night, to lay +your hand upon a certain stump and say, and in a loud voice:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Willow-boy, Willow-boy, come to me soon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After the sun and before the moon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hide the stars and cover my head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let no man see me when I be wed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>One would like to know whether the Willow-lad's powers perished with +the withy-bed. They should not, but should have been turned to +malicious uses. There are many cases in Mr. Lawson's book of the +malefical effect upon the Dryads of cutting down the trees whose +spirit they are. And most people know Landor's idyll, or if they +don't, they should.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>There are queer doings under the sun as well as under the moon. A man +may travel far without leaving his arm-chair by the fire, in countries +where no tourist-tickets obtain, and see stranger things than are +recorded by Herr Baedeker.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The waies through which my weary steps I guide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this delightful land of Faery<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are so exceeding spacious and wyde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sprinckled with such sweet variety<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all that pleasant is to eare or eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I, nigh ravisht with rare thoughts' delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My tedious travele doe forget thereby;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I gin to feele decay of might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It strength to me supplies, and chears my dulléd spright.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h3>THE END</h3> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lore of Proserpine, by Maurice Hewlett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LORE OF PROSERPINE *** + +***** This file should be named 18730-h.htm or 18730-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/7/3/18730/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/18730.txt b/18730.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9686a48 --- /dev/null +++ b/18730.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5789 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lore of Proserpine, by Maurice Hewlett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Lore of Proserpine + +Author: Maurice Hewlett + +Release Date: July 1, 2006 [EBook #18730] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LORE OF PROSERPINE *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + LORE OF PROSERPINE + + + + BY + + MAURICE HEWLETT + + + + "Thus go the fairy kind, + Whither Fate driveth; not as we + Who fight with it, and deem us free + Therefore, and after pine, or strain + Against our prison bars in vain; + For to them Fate is Lord of Life + And Death, and idle is a strife + With such a master ..." + + _Hypsipyle_. + + + + CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + + NEW YORK : : : : 1913 + + + COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY + + CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + + * * * * * + +TO + +DESPOINA + +FROM WHOM, TO WHOM + +ALL + + * * * * * + + + + +PREFACE + + +I hope nobody will ask me whether the things in this book are true, +for it will then be my humiliating duty to reply that I don't know. +They seem to be so to me writing them; they seemed to be so when they +occurred, and one of them occurred only two or three years ago. That +sort of answer satisfies me, and is the only one I can make. As I grow +older it becomes more and more difficult to distinguish one kind of +appearance from another, and to say, that is real, and again, that is +illusion. Honestly, I meet in my daily walks innumerable beings, to +all sensible signs male and female. Some of them I can touch, some +smell, some speak with, some see, some discern otherwise than by +sight. But if you cannot trust your eyes, why should you trust your +nose or your fingers? There's my difficulty in talking about reality. + +There's another way of getting at the truth after all. If a thing is +not sensibly true it may be morally so. If it is not phenomenally true +it may be so substantially. And it is possible that one may see +substance in the idiom, so to speak, of the senses. That, I take it, +is how the Greeks saw thunder-storms and other huge convulsions; that +is how they saw meadow, grove and stream--in terms of their own fair +humanity. They saw such natural phenomena as shadows of spiritual +conflict or of spiritual calm, and within the appearance apprehended +the truth. So it may be that I have done. Some such may be the +explanation of all fairy experience. Let it be so. It is a fact, I +believe, that there is nothing revealed in this book which will not +bear a spiritual, and a moral, interpretation; and I venture to say of +some of it that the moral implications involved are exceedingly +momentous, and timely too. I need not refer to such matters any +further. If they don't speak for themselves they will get no help from +a preface. + +The book assumes up to a certain point an autobiographical cast. This +is not because I deem my actual life of any interest to any one but +myself, but because things do occur to one "in time," and the +chronological sequence is as good as another, and much the most easy +of any. I had intended, but my heart failed me, to pursue experience +to the end. There was to have been a section, to be called "Despoina," +dealing with my later life. But my heart failed me. The time is not +yet, though it is coming. I don't deny that there are some things here +which I learned from the being called Despoina and could have learned +from nobody else. There are some such things, but there is not very +much, and won't be any more just yet. Some of it there will never be +for the sorry reason that our race won't bear to be told fundamental +facts about itself, still less about other orders of creation which +are sufficiently like our own to bring self-consciousness into play. +To write of the sexes in English you must either be sentimental or a +satirist. You must set the emotions to work; otherwise you must be +quiet. Now the emotions have no business with knowledge; and there's a +reason why we have no fairy lore, because we can't keep our feelings +in hand. The Greeks had a mythology, the highest form of Art, and we +have none. Why is that? Because we can neither expound without wishing +to convert the soul, nor understand without self-experiment. We don't +want to know things, we want to feel them--and are ashamed of our +need. Mythology, therefore, we English must make for ourselves as we +can; and if we are wise we shall keep it to ourselves. It is a pity, +because since we alone of created things are not self-sufficient, +anything that seems to break down the walls of being behind which we +agonise would be a comfort to us; but there's a worse thing than being +in prison, and that is quarrelling with our own nature. + +I shall have explained myself very badly if my reader leaves me with +the impression that I have been writing down marvels. The fact that a +thing occurs in nature takes it out of the portentous. There's nothing +either good or bad but thinking makes it so. With that I end. + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PREFACE + +THE WINDOWS + +A BOY IN THE WOOD + +HARKNESS'S FANCY + +THE GODS IN THE SCHOOLHOUSE + +THE SOUL AT THE WINDOW + +QUIDNUNC + +THE SECRET COMMONWEALTH + +BECKWITH'S CASE + +THE FAIRY WIFE + +OREADS + +A SUMMARY CHAPTER + + * * * * * + + + + +LORE OF PROSERPINE + +THE WINDOWS + + +You will remember that Socrates considers every soul of us to be at +least three persons. He says, in a fine figure, that we are two horses +and a charioteer. "The right-hand horse is upright and cleanly made; +he has a lofty neck and an aquiline nose; his colour is white and his +eyes dark; he is a lover of honour and modesty and temperance, and the +follower of true glory; he needs no touch of the whip, but is guided +by word and admonition only. The other is a crooked lumbering animal, +put together anyhow; he has a short thick neck; he is flat-faced and +of a dark colour, with grey eyes of blood-red complexion; the mate of +insolence and pride, shag-eared and deaf, hardly yielding to whip and +spur." I need not go on to examine with the philosopher the acts of +this pair under the whip and spur of love, because I am not going to +talk about love. For my present purpose I shall suggest another +dichotomy. I will liken the soul itself of man to a house, divided +according to the modern fashion into three flats or apartments. Of +these the second floor is occupied by the landlord, who wishes to be +quiet, and is not, it seems, afraid of fire; the ground-floor by a +business man who would like to marry, but doubts if he can afford it, +goes to the city every day, looks in at his club of an afternoon, +dines out a good deal, and spends at least a month of the year at +Dieppe, Harrogate, or one of the German spas. He is a pleasant-faced +man, as I see him, neatly dressed, brushed, anointed, polished at the +extremities--for his boots vie with his hair in this particular. If he +has a fault it is that of jingling half-crowns in his trouser-pocket; +but he works hard for them, pays his rent with them, and gives one +occasionally to a nephew. That youth, at any rate, likes the cheerful +sound. He is rather fond, too, of monopolising the front of the fire +in company, and thinks more of what he is going to eat, some time +before he eats it, than a man should. But really I can't accuse him of +anything worse than such little weaknesses. The first floor is +occupied by a person of whom very little is known, who goes out +chiefly at night and is hardly ever seen during the day. Tradesmen, +and the crossing-sweeper at the corner, have caught a glimpse on rare +occasions of a white face at the window, the startled face of a queer +creature, who blinks and wrings at his nails with his teeth; who +peers at you, jerks and grins; who seems uncertain what to do; who +sometimes shoots out his hands as if he would drive them through the +glass: altogether a mischancy, unaccountable apparition, probably mad. +Nobody knows how long he has been here; for the landlord found him in +possession when he bought the lease, and the ground-floor, who was +here also, fancies that they came together, but can't be sure. There +he is, anyhow, and without an open scandal one doesn't like to give +him notice. A curious thing about the man is that neither landlord nor +ground-floor will admit acquaintance with him to each other, although, +if the truth were known, each of them knows something--for each of +them has been through his door; and I will answer for one of them, at +least, that he has accompanied the Undesirable upon more than one +midnight excursion, and has enjoyed himself enormously. If you could +get either of these two alone in a confidential mood you might learn +some curious particulars of their coy neighbour; and not the least +curious would be the effect of his changing the glass of the first +floor windows. It seems that he had that done directly he got into his +rooms, saying that it was impossible to see out of such windows, and +that a man must have light. Where he got his glass from, by whom it +was fitted, I can't tell you, but the effect of it is most +extraordinary. The only summary account I feel able to give of it at +the moment is that it transforms the world upon which it opens. You +look out upon a new earth, literally that. The trees are not trees at +all, but slim grey persons, young men, young women, who stand there +quivering with life, like a row of Caryatides--on duty, but tiptoe for +a flight, as Keats says. You see life, as it were, rippling up their +limbs; for though they appear to be clothed, their clothing is of so +thin a texture, and clings so closely that they might as well not be +clothed at all. They are eyed, they see intensely; they look at each +other so closely that you know what they would be doing. You can see +them love each other as you watch. As for the people in the street, +the real men and real women, as we say, I hardly know how to tell you +what they look like through the first floor's windows. They are +changed of everything but one thing. They occupy the places, fill the +standing-room of our neighbours and friends; there is a something +about them all by which you recognise them--a trick of the hand, a +motion of the body, a set of the head (God knows what it is, how +little and how much); but for all that--a new creature! A thing like +nothing that lives by bread! Now just look at that policeman at the +corner, for instance; not only is he stark naked--everybody is like +that--but he's perfectly different from the sturdy, good-humoured, +red-faced, puzzled man you and I know. He is thin, woefully thin, and +his ears are long and perpetually twitching. He pricks them up at the +least thing; or lays them suddenly back, and we see them trembling. +His eyes look all ways and sometimes nothing but the white is to be +seen. He has a tail, too, long and leathery, which is always curling +about to get hold of something. Now it will be the lamp-post, now the +square railings, now one of those breathing trees; but mostly it is +one of his own legs. Yet if you consider him carefully you will agree +with me that his tail is a more expressive remnant of the man you have +always seen there than any other part of him. You may say, and truly, +that it is the only recognisable thing left. What do you think of his +feet and hands? They startled me at first; they are so long and +narrow, so bony and pointed, covered with fine short hair which shines +like satin. That way he has of arching his feet and driving his toes +into the pavement delights me. And see, too, that his hands are +undistinguishable from feet: they are just as long and satiny. He is +fond of smoothing his face with them; he brings them both up to his +ears and works them forward like slow fans. Transformation indeed. I +defy you to recognise him for the same man--except for a faint +reminiscence about his tail. + +But all's of a piece. The crossing-sweeper now has shaggy legs which +end in hoofs. His way of looking at young people is very +unpleasant;--and one had always thought him such a kindly old man. The +butcher's boy--what a torso!--is walking with his arm round the waist +of the young lady in Number seven. These are lovers, you see; but it's +mostly on her side. He tilts up her chin and gives her a kiss before +he goes; and she stands looking after him with shining eyes, hoping +that he will turn round before he gets to the corner. But he doesn't. + +Wait, now, wait, wait--who is this lovely, straining, beating creature +darting here and there about the square, bruising herself, poor +beautiful thing, against the railings? A sylph, a caught fairy? +Surely, surely, I know somebody--is it?--It can't be. That careworn +lady? God in Heaven, is it she? Enough! Show me no more. I will show +you no more, my dear sir, if it agitates you; but I confess that I +have come to regard it as one of the most interesting spectacles in +London. The mere information--to say nothing of the amusement--which I +have derived from it would fill a volume; but if it did, I may add, I +myself should undoubtedly fill a cell in Holloway. I will therefore +spare you what I know about the Doctor's wife, and what happens to +Lieutenant-Colonel Storter when I see him through these windows--I +could never have believed it unless I had seen it. These things are +not done, I know; but observed in this medium they seem quite +ordinary. Lastly--for I can't go through the catalogue--I will speak +of the air as I see it from here. My dear sir, the air is alive, +thronged with life. Spirits, forms, lovely immaterial diaphanous +shapes, are weaving endless patterns over the face of the day. They +shine like salmon at a weir, or they darken the sky as redwings in the +autumn fields; they circle, shrieking as they flash, like swallows at +evening; they battle and wrangle together; or they join hands and +whirl about the square in an endless chain. Of their beauty, their +grace of form and movement, of the shifting filmy colour, hue blending +in hue, of their swiftness, their glancing eyes, their exuberant joy +or grief I cannot now speak. Beside them one man may well seem rat, +and another goat. Beside them, indeed, you look for nothing else. And +if I go on to hint that the owner of these windows is of them, though +imprisoned in my house; that he does at times join them in their +streaming flights beyond the housetops, and does at times carry with +him his half-bewildered, half-shocked and wholly delighted fellow +lodgers, I have come to the end of my tether and your credulity, and, +for the time at least, have flowered myself to death. The figure is as +good as Plato's though my Pegasus will never stable in his stall. + + * * * * * + +We may believe ourselves to be two persons, at least, in one, and I +fancy that one at least of them is a constant. So far as my own pair +is concerned, either one of them has never grown up at all, or he was +born whole and in a flash, as the fairies are. Such as he was, at any +rate, when I was ten years old, such he is now when I am heavily more +than ten; and the other of us, very conscious of the flight of time +and of other things with it, is free to confess that he has little +more hold of his fellow with all this authority behind him than he had +when we commenced partnership. He has some, and thinks himself lucky, +since the bond between the pair is of such a nature as to involve a +real partnership--a partnership full of perplexity to the working +member of it, the ordinary forensic creature of senses, passions, +ambitions, and self-indulgences, the eating, sleeping, vainglorious, +assertive male of common experience--and it is not to be denied that +it has been fruitful, nor again that by some freak of fate or fortune +the house has kept a decent front to the world at large. It is still +solvent, still favourably regarded by the police. It is not, it never +will be, a mere cage of demons; its walls have not been fretted to +transparency; no passing eye can detect revelry behind its decent +stucco; no passing ear thrill to cries out of the dark. No, no. +Troubles we may have; but we keep up appearances. The heart knoweth +its own bitterness, and if it be a wise one, keepeth it to itself. I +am not going to be so foolish as to deny divergences of opinion, even +of practice, between the pair in me; but I flatter myself that I have +not allowed them to become a common nuisance, a cause of scandal, a +stumbling-block, a rock of offence, or anything of that kind. Uneasy +tenant, wayward partner as my recondite may be, he has had a +relationship with my forensic which at times has touched cordiality. +Influential he has not been, for his colleague has always had the +upper hand and been in the public eye. He may have instigated to +mischief, but has not often been allowed to complete his purpose. If I +am a respectable person it is not his fault. He seeks no man's +respect. If he has occasionally lent himself to moral ends, it has +been without enthusiasm, for he has no morals of his own, and never +did have any. On the other hand, he is by nature too indifferent to +temporal circumstances to go about to corrupt his partner. His main +desire has ever been to be let alone. Anything which tended to tighten +the bonds which held him to his co-tenant would have been a thing to +avoid. He desires liberty, and nothing less will content him. This he +will only have by inaction, by mewing his sempiternal youth in his +cage and on his perch. + +But the tie uniting the pair of us is of such a nature that neither +can be uninfluenced by the other. It is just that you should hear both +sides of the case. My forensic, eating and arguing self has bullied my +other into hypocrisy over and over again. He has starved him, deprived +him of his holidays, ignored him, ridiculed him, snubbed him +mercilessly. This is severe treatment, you'll allow, and it's worse +even than it seems. For the unconscionable fellow, owing to this +coheirship which he pretends to disesteem, has been made privy to +experiences which must not only have been extraordinary to so plain +and humdrum a person, but which have been, as I happen to know, of +great importance to him, and which--to put the thing at its +highest--have lifted him, dull dog as he is, into regions where the +very dogs have wings. Out upon it! But he has been in and out with his +victim over leagues of space where not one man in ten thousand has +been privileged to fare. He has been familiar all his life with +scenes, with folk, with deeds undreamed of by thirty-nine and +three-quarters out of forty millions of people, and by that +quarter-million only known as nursery tales. Not only so, but he has +been awakened to the significance of common things, having at hand an +interpreter, and been enabled to be precise where Wordsworth was +vague. He has known Zeus in the thunder, in the lightning beheld the +shaking of the dread AEgis. In the river source he has seen the +breasted nymph; he has seen the Oreads stream over the bare hillside. +There are men who see these things and don't believe them, others who +believe but don't see. He has both seen and believed. The painted, +figured universe has for him a new shape; whispering winds and falling +rain speak plainly to his understanding. He has seen trees as men +walking. His helot has unlocked the world behind appearance and made +him free of the Spirits of Natural Fact who abide there. If he is not +the debtor of his comrade--and he protests the debt--he should be. But +the rascal laps it all up, as a cat porridge, without so much as a wag +of the tail for Thank-you. Such are the exorbitant overlords in mortal +men, who pass for reputable persons, with a chief seat at feasts. + +Such things, you may say, read incredibly, but, _mutatis mutandis_, I +believe them to be common, though unrecorded, experience. I deprecate +in advance questions designed to test the accuracy of my eyesight or +the ingenuous habit of my pen. I have already declared that the +windows of my first-floor lodger are of such properties that they +show you, in Xenophon's phrase, [Greek: ta onta te os onta, kai ta me +onta os ouk onta]. Now consider it from his side. If I were to tell +the owner of those windows that I saw the policeman at the corner, a +helmeted, blue-tunicked, chin-scratching, ponderous man, some six foot +in his boots, how would he take it? Would he not mock me? What, that +rat? Ridiculous! And what on earth could I reply? I tell you, the +whole affair is one of windows, or, sometimes, of personally-conducted +travel; and who is Guide and who Guided, is one of those nice +questions in psychology which perhaps we are not yet ready to handle. +Of the many speculations as to the nature of the subliminal Self I +have never found one to be that he may be a fairy prisoner, +occasionally on parole. But I think that not at all unlikely. May not +metempsychosis be a scourge of two worlds? If the soul of my grandam +might fitly inhabit a bird, might not a Fairy ruefully inhabit the +person of my grandam? If Fairy Godmothers, perchance, were Fairy +Grandmothers! I have some evidence to place before the reader which +may induce him to consider this hypothesis. Who can doubt, at least, +that Shelley's was not a case where the not-human was a prisoner in +the human? Who can doubt that of Blake's? And what was the result, +forensically? Shelley was treated as a scoundrel and Blake as a +madman. Shelley, it was said, broke the moral law, and Blake +transcended common sense; but the first, I reply, was in the guidance +of a being to whom the laws of this world and the accidents of it +meant nothing at all; and to the second a wisdom stood revealed which +to human eyes was foolishness. Windows! In either case there was a +martyrdom, and human exasperation appeased by much broken glass. Let +us not, however, condemn the wreckers of windows. Who is to judge even +them? Who is to say even of their harsh and cruel reprisals that they +were not excusable? May not they too have been ridden by some wild +spirit within them, which goaded them to their beastly work? But if +the acceptance of the doctrine of multiple personality is going to +involve me in the reconsideration of criminal jurisprudence, I must +close this essay. + +I will close it with the sentence of another philosopher who has +considered deeply of these questions. "It is to be observed," he says, +"that the laws of human conduct are precisely made for the conduct of +this world of Men, in which we live, breed, and pay rent. They do not +affect the Kingdom of the Dogs, nor that of the Fishes; by a parity of +reasoning they need not be supposed to obtain in the Kingdom of +Heaven, in which the schoolmen discovered the citizens dwelling in +nine spheres, apart from the blessed immigrants, whose privileges did +not extend so near to the Heart of the Presence. How many realms there +may be between mankind's and that ultimate object of pure desire +cannot at present be known, but it may be affirmed with confidence +that any denizen of any one of them, brought into relation with human +beings, would act, and reasonably act, in ways which to men might seem +harsh and unconscionable, without sanction or convenience. Such a +being might murder one of the ratepayers of London, compound a felony, +or enter into a conspiracy to depose the King himself, and, being +detected, very properly be put under restraint, or visited with +chastisement, either deterrent or vindictive, or both. But the true +inference from the premises would be that although duress or +banishment from the kingdom might be essential, yet punishment, +so-called, ought not to be visited upon the offender. For he or she +could not be _nostri juris_, and that which were abominable to us +might well be reasonable to him or her, and indeed a fulfilment of the +law of his being. Punishment, therefore, could not be exemplary, since +the person punished exemplified nothing to Mankind; and if vindictive, +then would be shocking, since that which is vindicated, in the mind +of the victim either did not exist, or ought not. The Ancient Greek +who withheld from the sacrifice to Showery Zeus because a thunder-bolt +destroyed his hayrick, or the Egyptian who manumitted his slaves +because a God took the life of his eldest son, was neither a pious, +nor a reasonable person." + +There is much debatable matter in this considered opinion. + + + + +A BOY IN THE WOOD + + +I had many bad qualities as a child, of which I need mention only +three. I was moody, irresolute, and hatefully reserved. Fate had +already placed me the eldest by three years of a large family. Add to +the eminence thus attained intentions which varied from hour to hour, +a will so little in accordance with desire that I had rather give up a +cherished plan than fight for it, and a secretive faculty equalled +only by the magpie, and you will not wonder when I affirm that I lived +alone in a household of a dozen friendly persons. As a set-off and +consolation to myself I had very strongly the power of impersonation. +I could be within my own little entity a dozen different people in a +day, and live a life thronged with these companions or rivals; and yet +this set me more solitary than ever, for I could never appear in any +one of my characters to anybody else. But alone and apart, what worlds +I inhabited! Worlds of fact and worlds of fiction. At nine years old I +knew Nelson's ardour and Wellesley's phlegm; I had Napoleon's egotism, +Galahad's purity, Lancelot's passion, Tristram's melancholy. I +reasoned like Socrates and made Phaedo weep; I persuaded like Saint +Paul and saw the throng on Mars' Hill sway to my words. I was by turns +Don Juan and Don Quixote, Tom Jones and Mr. Allworthy, Hamlet and his +uncle, young Shandy and his. You will gather that I was a reader. I +was, and the people of my books stepped out of their pages and +inhabited me. Or, to change the figure, I found in every book an open +door, and went in and dwelt in its world. Thus I lived a thronged and +busy life, a secret life, full of terror, triumph, wonder, frantic +enterprise, a noble and gallant figure among my peers, while to my +parents, brothers and sisters I was an incalculable, fitful creature, +often lethargic and often in the sulks. They saw me mooning in +idleness and were revolted; or I walked dully the way I was bid and +they despaired of my parts. I could not explain myself to them, still +less justify, having that miserable veil of reserve close over my +mouth, like a yashmak. To my father I could not speak, to my mother I +did not; the others, being my juniors all, hardly existed. Who is to +declare the motives of a child's mind? What was the nature of this +reticence? Was it that my real habit was reverie? Was it, as I +suspect, that constitutional timidity made me diffident? I was a +coward, I am very sure, for I was always highly imaginative. Was it, +finally, that I was dimly conscious of matters which I despaired of +putting clearly? Who can say? And who can tell me now whether I was +cursed or blessed? Certainly, if it had been possible to any person my +senior to share with me my daily adventures, I might have conquered +the cowardice from which I suffered such terrible reverses. But it was +not. I was the eldest of a large family, and apparently the easiest to +deal with of any of it. I was what they call a tractable child, being, +in fact, too little interested in the world as it was to resent any +duties cast upon me. It was not so with the others. They were +high-spirited little creatures, as often in mischief as not, and +demanded much more pains then I ever did. What they demanded they got, +what I did not demand I got not: "Lo, here is alle! What shold I more +seye?" + +How it was that, taking no interest in my actual surroundings, I +became aware of unusual things behind them I cannot understand. It is +very difficult to differentiate between what I imagined and what I +actually perceived. It was a favourite string of my poor father's +plaintive lyre that I had no eyes. He was a great walker, a poet, and +a student of nature. Every Sunday of his life he took me and my +brother for a long tramp over the country, the intense spiritual +fatigue of which exercise I should never be able to describe. I have a +sinking of the heart, even now, when I recall our setting out. +Intolerable labour! I saw nothing and said nothing. I did nothing but +plug one dull foot after the other. I felt like some chained slave +going to the hulks, and can well imagine that my companions must have +been very much aware of it. My brother, whose nature was much happier +than mine, who dreamed much less and observed much more, was the life +of these woeful excursions. Without him I don't think that my father +could have endured them. At any rate, he never did. I amazed, +irritated, and confounded him at most times, but in nothing more than +my apathy to what enchanted him.[1] The birds, the flowers, the trees, +the waters did not exist for me in my youth. The world for me was +uninhabited, a great empty cage. People passed us, or stood at their +doorways watching us, but I never saw them. If by chance I descried +somebody coming whom it would be necessary to salute, or to whom I +might have to speak, I turned aside to avoid them. I was not only shy +to a fault, as a diffident child must be, but the world of sense +either did not exist for me or was thrust upon me to my discomfort. +And yet all the while, as I moved or sat, I was surrounded by a stream +of being, of infinite constituents, aware of them to this extent that +I could converse with them without sight or speech. I knew they were +there, I knew them singing, whispering, screaming. They filled my +understanding not my senses. I did not see them but I felt them. I +knew not what they said or sang, but had always the general sense of +their thronging neighbourhood. + +[Footnote 1: And me also when I was enabled at a later day to perceive +them. I am thankful to remember and record for my own comfort that +that day came not too late for my enchantment to overtake his and +proceed in company.] + +I enlarge upon this because I think it justifies me in adding that, +observing so little, what I did observe with my bodily eyes must +almost certainly have been observable. But now let the reader judge. + +The first time I ever saw a creature which was really outside ordinary +experience was in the late autumn of my twelfth year. My brother, next +in age to me, was nine, my eldest sister eight. We three had been out +walking with our mother, and were now returning at dusk to our tea +through a wood which covered the top of a chalk down. I remember +vividly the scene. The carpet of drenched leaves under bare branches, +the thin spear-like shafts of the underwood, the grey lights between, +the pale frosty sky overhead with the sickle moon low down in it. I +remember, too, various sensations, such as the sudden chill which +affected me as the crimson globe of the sun disappeared; and again +how, when we emerged from the wood, I was enheartened by the sight of +the village shrouded under chimney smoke and by the one or two +twinkling lights dotted here and there about the dim wolds. + +In the wood it was already twilight and very damp. Perhaps I had been +tired, more likely bored--as I always was when I was not being +somebody else. I remember that I had found the path interminable. I +had been silent, as I mostly was, while the other two had chattered +and played about our mother; and when presently I stayed behind for a +purpose I remember that I made no effort to catch them up. I knew the +way perfectly, of course, and had no fear of the dark. Oddly enough I +had no fear of that. I was far less imaginative in the night than in +the day. Besides that, by the time I was ready to go after them I had +much else to think of. + +I must have been looking at him for some time before I made out that +he was there. So you may peer into a thicket a hundred times and see +nothing, and then a trick of the light or a flutter of the mood and +you see creatures where you had been sure was nothing. As children +will, I had stayed longer than I need, looking and wondering into the +wood, not observing but yet absorbing the effects of the lights and +shades. The trees were sapling chestnuts if I am not mistaken, Spanish +chestnuts, and used for hop-poles in those parts. Their leaves decay +gradually, the fleshy part, so to speak, dropping away from the +articulation till at last bleached skeleton leaves remain and flicker +at every sigh of the wind. The ground was densely carpeted with other +leaves in the same state, or about to become so. The silver grey was +cross-hatched by the purple lines of the serried stems, and as the +view receded this dipped into blue and there lost itself. It was very +quiet--a windless fall of the light. To-day I should find it most +beautiful; and even then, I suspect, I felt its beauty without knowing +it to be so. Looking into it all without realising it, I presently and +gradually did realise something else: a shape, a creature, a thing of +form and pressure--not a wraith, not, I am quite certain, a trick of +the senses. + +It was under a clump of the chestnut stems, kneeling and sitting on +its heels, and it was watching me with the bright, quick eyes of a +mouse. If I were to say that my first thought was of some peering and +waiting animal, I should go on to qualify the thought by reference to +the creature's eyes. They were eyes which, like all animals', could +only express one thing at a time. They expressed now attention, the +closest: not fear, not surprise, not apprehension of anything that I +might be meditating against their peace, but simply minute attention. +The absence of fear, no doubt, marked their owner off from the animals +of common acquaintance; but the fact that they did not at the same +time express the being itself showed him to be different from our +human breed. For whatever else the human pair of eyes may reveal, it +reveals the looker. + +The eyes of this creature revealed nothing of itself except that it +was watching me narrowly. I could not even be sure of its sex, though +I believe it to have been a male, and shall hereafter treat of it as +such. I could see that he was young; I thought about my own age. He +was very pale, without being at all sickly--indeed, health and vigour +and extreme vivacity were implicit in every line and expressed in +every act; he was clear-skinned, but almost colourless. The shadow +under his chin, I remember, was bluish. His eyes were round, when not +narrowed by that closeness of his scrutiny of me, and though probably +brown, showed to be all black, with pupil indistinguishable from iris. +The effect upon me was of black, vivid black, unintelligent +eyes--which see intensely but cannot translate. His hair was dense and +rather long. It covered his ears and touched his shoulders. It was +pushed from his forehead sideways in a thick, in a solid fold, as if +it had been the corner of a frieze cape thrown back. It was dark hair, +but not black; his neck was very thin. I don't know how he was +dressed--I never noticed such things; but in colour he must have been +inconspicuous, since I had been looking at him for a good time without +seeing him at all. A sleeveless tunic, I think, which may have been +brown, or grey, or silver-white. I don't know. But his knees were +bare--that I remember; and his arms were bare from the shoulder. + +I standing, he squatting on his heels, the pair of us looked full at +one another. I was not frightened, no more was he. I was excited, and +full of interest; so, I think, was he. My heart beat double time. Then +I saw, with a curious excitement, that between his knees he held a +rabbit, and that with his left hand he had it by the throat. Now, what +is extraordinary to me about this discovery is that there was nothing +shocking in it. + +I saw the rabbit's wild and panic-blown eye, I saw the bright white +rim of it, and recognised its little added terror of me even in the +midst of its anguish. That must have been the conventional fright of a +beast of chase, an instinct to fear rather than an emotion; for of +emotions the poor thing must have been having its fill. It was not +till I saw its mouth horribly open, its lips curled back to show its +shelving teeth that I could have guessed at what it was suffering. But +gradually I apprehended what was being done. Its captor was squeezing +its throat. I saw what I had never seen before, and have never seen +since, I saw its tongue like a pale pink petal of a flower dart out as +the pressure drove it. Revolting sight as that would have been to me, +witnessed in the world, here, in this dark wood, in this outland +presence, it was nothing but curious. Now, as I watched and wondered, +the being, following my eyes' direction, looked down at the huddled +thing between his thighs, and just as children squeeze a snap-dragon +flower to make it open and shut its mouth, so precisely did he, +pressing or releasing the windpipe, cause that poor beast to throw +back its lips and dart its dry tongue. He did this many times while he +watched it; and when he looked up at me again, and while he continued +to look at me, I saw that his cruel fingers, as by habit, continued +the torture, and that in some way he derived pleasure from the +performance--as if it gratified him to be sure that effect was +following on cause inevitably. + +I have never, I believe, been cruel to an animal in my life. I hated +cruelty then as I hate it now. I have always shirked the sight of +anything in pain from my childhood onwards. Yet the fact is that not +only did I nothing to interfere in what I saw going on, but that I +was deeply interested and absorbed in it. I can only explain that to +myself now, by supposing that I knew then, that the creature in front +of me was not of my own kind, and was not, in fact, outraging any law +of its own being. Is not that possible? May I not have collected +unawares so much out of created nature? I am unable to say: all I am +clear about is that here was a thing in the semblance of a boy doing +what I had never observed a boy do, and what if I ever had observed a +boy do, would have flung me into a transport of rage and grief. Here, +therefore, was a thing in the semblance of a boy who was no boy at +all. So much must have been as certain to me then as it is +indisputable now. + +One doesn't, at that age, reason things out; one knows them, and is +dumb, though unconvinced, before powerful syllogisms to the contrary. +All children are so, confronted by strange phenomena. And yet I had +facts to go upon if, child as I was, I had been capable of inference. +I need only mention one. If this creature had been human, upon seeing +that I was conscious of its behaviour to the rabbit, it would either +have stopped the moment it perceived that I did not approve or was not +amused, or it would have continued deliberately out of bravado. But it +neither stopped nor hardily continued. It watched its experiment with +interest for a little, then, finding me more interesting, did not +discontinue it, but ceased to watch it. He went on with it +mechanically, dreamingly, as if to the excitation of some other sense +than sight, that of feeling, for instance. He went on lasciviously, +for the sake of the pleasure so to be had. In other words, being +without self-consciousness and ignorant of shame, he must have been +non-human. + +After all, too, it must be owned that I cannot have been confronted by +the appearance for more than a few minutes. Allow me three to have been +spent before I was aware of him, three more will be the outside I can +have passed gazing at him. But I speak of "minutes," of course, +referring to my ostensible self, that inert, apathetic child who +followed its mother, that purblind creature through whose muddy lenses +the pent immortal had been forced to see his familiar in the wood, and +perchance to dress in form and body what, for him, needed neither to be +visible. It was this outward self which was now driven by circumstances +to resume command--the command which for "three minutes" by his +reckoning he had relinquished. Both of us, no doubt, had been much +longer there had we not been interrupted. A woodman, homing from his +work, came heavily up the path, and like a guilty detected rogue I +turned to run and took my incorruptible with me. Not until I had passed +the man did I think to look back. The partner of my secret was not then +to be seen. Out of sight out of mind is the way of children. Out of +mind, then, withdrew my incorruptible. I hurried on, ran, and overtook +my party half-way down the bare hillside. I still remember the feeling +of relief with which I swept into the light, felt the cold air on my +cheeks, and saw the intimacy of the village open out below me. I am +almost sure that my eyes held tears at the assurance of the sweet, +familiar things which I knew and could love. There, literally, were my +own people: that which I had left behind must be unlawful because it was +so strange. In the warmth and plenty of the lighted house, by the +schoolroom table, before the cosily covered teapot, amid the high talk, +the hot toast and the jam, my experience in the dusky wood seemed +unreal, lawless, almost too terrible to be remembered--never, never to +be named. It haunted me for many days, and gave rise to curious +wonderings now and then. As I passed the patient, humble beasts of +common experience--a carter's team nodding, jingling its brasses, a +donkey, patient, humble, hobbled in a paddock, dogs sniffing each other, +a cat tucked into a cottage window, I mused doubtfully and often whether +we had touched the threshold of the heart of their mystery. But for the +most part, being constitutionally timid, I was resolute to put the +experience out of mind. When next I chanced to go through the wood there +is no doubt I peered askance to right and left among the trees; but I +took good care not to desert my companions. That which I had seen was +unaccountable, therefore out of bounds. But though I never saw him there +again I have never forgotten him. + + + + +HARKNESS'S FANCY + + +I may have been a precocious child, but I cannot tell within a year or +two how soon it was that I attained manhood. There must have been a +moment of time when I clothed myself in skins, like Adam; when I knew +what this world calls good and evil--by which this world means nothing +more nor less than men and women, and chiefly women, I think. Savage +peoples initiate their young and teach them the taboos of society by +stripes. We allow our issue to gash themselves. By stripes, then, upon +my young flesh, I scored up this lesson for myself. Certain things were +never to be spoken of, certain things never to be looked at in certain +ways, certain things never to be done consciously, or for the pleasure +to be got out of them. One stepped out of childish conventions into +mannish conventions, and did so, certainly, without any instruction from +outside. I remember, for instance, that, as children, it was a rigid +part of our belief that our father was the handsomest man in the +world--handsome was the word. In the same way our mother was by +prerogative the most beautiful woman. If some hero flashed upon our +scene--Garibaldi, Lancelot of the Lake, or another--the greatest praise +we could possibly have given him for beauty, excellence, courage, or +manly worth would have put him second to our father. So also Helen of +Sparta and Beatrice of Florence gave way. That was the law of the +nursery, rigid and never to be questioned until unconsciously I grew out +of it, and becoming a man, put upon me the panoply of manly eyes. I now +accepted it that to kiss my sister was nothing, but that to kiss her +friend would be very wicked. I discovered that there were two ways of +looking at a young woman, and two ways of thinking about her. I +discovered that it was lawful to have some kinds of appetite, and to +take pleasure in food, exercise, sleep, warmth, cold water, hot water, +the smell of flowers, and quite unlawful so much as to think of, or to +admit to myself the existence of other kinds of appetite. I discovered, +in fact, that love was a shameful thing, that if one was in love one +concealed it from the world, and, above all the world, from the object +of one's love. The conviction was probably instinctive, for one is not +the descendant of puritans for nothing; but the discovery of it is +another matter. Attendance at school and the continuous reading of +romance were partly responsible for that; physical development clinched +the affair, I was in all respects mature at thirteen, though my courage +(to use the word in Chaucer's sense) was not equal to my ability. I had +more than usual diffidence against me, more than usual reserve; and +self-consciousness, from which I have only lately escaped, grew upon me +hand in hand with experience. + +But being now become a day-scholar at the Grammar School, and thrown +whether I would or not among other boys of my own age, I sank my +recondite self deeply under the folds of my quickened senses. I became +aware of a world which was not his world at all. I watched, I heard, I +judged, I studied intently my comrades; and while in secret I shared +their own hardy lives, I was more than content to appear a cipher +among them. I had no friends and made none. All my comradeship with my +school-mates took place in my head, for however salient in mood or +inclination I may have been I was a laggard in action. In company I +was lower than the least of them; in my solitude, at their head I +captured the universe. Daily, to and fro, for two or three years I +journeyed between my home and this school, with a couple of two-mile +walks and a couple of train journeys to be got through in all weathers +and all conditions of light. I saw little or nothing of my +school-fellows out of hours, and lived all my play-time, if you can so +call it, intensely alone with the people of my imagination--to whose +number I could now add gleanings from the Grammar School. + +I don't claim objective reality for any of these; I am sure that they +were of my own making. Though unseen beings throng round us all, +though as a child I had been conscious of them, though I had actually +seen one, in these first school years of mine the machinery I had for +seeing the usually unseen was eclipsed; my recondite self was fast in +his _cachot_--and I didn't know that he was there! But one may imagine +fairies enough out of one's reading, and going beyond that, using it +as a spring-board, advance in the work of creation from realising to +begetting. So it was with me. The _Faerie Queen_ was as familiar as +the Latin Primer ought to have been. I had much of Mallory by heart--a +book full of magic. Forth of his pages stepped men-at-arms and damsels +the moment I was alone, and held me company for as long as I would. +The persons of Homer's music came next to them. I was Hector and held +Andromache to my heart. I kissed her farewell when I went forth to +school, and hurried home at night from the station, impatient for her +arms. I was never Paris, and had only awe of Helen. Even then I dimly +guessed her divinity, that godhead which the supremest beauty really +is. But I was often Odysseus the much-enduring, and very well +acquainted with the wiles of Calypso. Next in power of enchantment +came certainly Don Quixote, in whose lank bones I was often encased. +Dulcinea's charm was very real to me. I revelled in her honeyed name. +I was Don Juan too, and I was Tom Jones; but my most natural +impersonation in those years was Tristram. The luxury of that +champion's sorrows had a swooning sweetness of their own of which I +never tired. Iseult meant nothing. I cared nothing for her. I was +enamoured of the hero, and saw myself drenched in his passion. Like +Narcissus in the fable, I loved myself, and saw myself, in Tristram's +form, the most beautiful and the most beloved of beings. + +Chivalry and Romance chained me at that time and not the supernatural. +The fairy adventures of the heroes of my love swept by me untouched. +Morgan le Fay, Britomart, Vivien, Nimue, Merlin did not convince me; +they were picturesque conventions whose decorative quality I felt, +while so far as I was concerned they were garniture or apparatus. And +yet the fruitful meadows through which I took my daily way were as +forests to me; the grass-stems spired up to my fired fancy like great +trees. Among them I used to minish myself to the size of an ant and +become a pioneer hewing out a pathway through virgin thickets. I had +my ears alert for the sound of a horn, of a galloping horse, of the +Questing Beast and hounds in full cry. But I never looked to encounter +a fairy in these most fairy solitudes. Beleaguered ladies, +knights-errant, dwarfs, churls, fiends of hell, leaping like flames +out of pits in the ground: all these, but no fairies. It's very odd +that having seen the reality and devoured the fictitious, I should +have had zest for neither, but so it is. + +As for my school-mates, though I had very little to say to them, or +they to me, I used to watch them very closely, and, as I have said, +came to weave them into my dreams. Some figured as heroes, some as +magnanimous allies, some as malignant enemies, some who struck me as +beautiful received of me the kind of idolatry, the insensate +self-surrender which creatures of my sort have always offered up to +beauty of any sort. I remember T----e, a very shapely and +distinguished youth. I worshipped him as a god, and have seen him +since--alas! I remember B---- also, a tall, lean, loose-limbed young +man. He was a great cricketer, a good-natured, sleepy giant, perfectly +stupid (I am sure) but with marks of breed about him which I could not +possibly mistake. Him, too, I enthroned upon my temple-frieze; he +would have figured there as Meleager had I been a few years older. As +it was, he rode a blazoned charger, all black, and feutred his lance +with the Knights of King Arthur's court. Then there was H----n, a +good-looking, good-natured boy, and T----r, another. Many and many a +day did they ride forth with me adventuring--that is, spiritually they +did so; physically speaking, I had no scot or lot with them. We were +in plate armour, visored and beplumed. We slung our storied shields +behind us; we had our spears at rest; we laughed, told tales, sang as +we went through the glades of the forest, down the rutted +charcoal-burner's track, and came to the black mere, where there lay a +barge with oars among the reeds. I can see, now, H----n throw up his +head, bared to the sky and slanting sun. He had thick and dark curly +hair and a very white neck. His name of chivalry was Sagramor. T----r +was of stouter build and less salient humour. He was Bors, a brother +of Lancelot's. I, who was moody, here as in waking life, was Tristram, +more often Tramtris. + +Of other more sinister figures I remember two. R----s, who bullied me +until I was provoked at last into facing him; a greedy, pale, +lecherous boy, graceless, a liar, but extremely clever. I had a horror +of him which endures now. If he, as I have, had a dweller in the deeps +of him, his must have been a satyr. I cannot doubt it now. Disastrous +ally for mortal man! Vice sat upon his face like a grease; vice made +his fingers quick. He had a lickorous tongue and a taste for sweet +things which even then made me sick. So repulsive was he to me, so +impressed upon my fancy, that it was curious he did not haunt my inner +life. But I never met him there. No shape of his ever encountered me +in the wilds and solitary places. In the manifest world he afflicted +me to an extent which the rogue-fairy in the wood could never have +approached. Perhaps it was that all my being was forearmed against +him, and that I fought him off. At any rate he never trespassed in my +preserves. + +The other was R----d, a bleared and diseased creature, a thing of pity +and terror to the wholesome, one of those outcasts of the world which +every school has to know and reckon with. A furtive, nail-bitten, +pick-nose wretch with an unholy hunger for ink, earth-worms and the +like. What terrible tenant do the likes of these carry about with +them! He, too, haunted me, but not fearfully; but he, too, I now +understand too well, was haunted and ridden to doom. I pitied him, +tried to be kind to him, tried to treat him as the human thing which +in some sort he was. I discovered that when he was interested he +forgot his loathsome cravings, and became almost lovable. I went home +with him once, to a mean house in ----. He took me into the backyard +and showed me his treasury--half a dozen rabbits, as many guinea-pigs, +and a raven with a bald head. He was all kindness to these prisoners, +fondled them with hands and voice, spoke a kind of inarticulate baby +language to them, and gave them pet names. He forgot his misery, his +poverty--I remember that he never had a handkerchief and always wanted +one, that his jacket-sleeves were near his elbow, and that his wrist +bones were red and broken. But now there shone a clear light in his +eye; he could face the world as he spoke to me of the habits of his +friends. We got upon some sort of terms by these means, and I always +had a kind of affection for poor R----d. In a sense we were both +outcasts, and might have warmed the world for each other. If I had not +been so entirely absorbed in my private life as to grudge any moment +of it unnecessarily spent I should have asked him home. But boys are +exorbitant in their own affairs, and I had no time to spare him. + +I was a year at ---- before I got so far with any schoolfellow of mine +there; but just about the time of my visit to R----d I fell in with +another boy, called Harkness, who, for some reason of his own, desired +my closer acquaintance and got as much of it as I was able to give to +anybody, and a good deal more than he deserved or I was the better of. +He, too, was a day-boy, whose people lived in a suburb of the town +which lay upon my road. We scraped acquaintance by occasionally +travelling together so much of the way as he had to traverse; from +this point onward all the advances were his. I had no liking for him, +and, in fact, some of his customs shocked me. But he was older than I, +very friendly, and very interesting. He evidently liked me; he asked +me to tea with him; he used to wait for me, going and returning. I had +no means of refusing his acquaintance, and did not; but I got no good +out of him. + +As he was older, so he was much more competent. Not so much vicious as +curious and enterprising, he knew a great many things which I only +guessed at, and could do much--or said that he could--which I only +dreamed about. He put a good deal of heart into my instruction, and +left me finally with my lesson learned. I never saw nor heard of him +after I left the school. We did not correspond, and he left no mark +upon me of any kind. The lesson learned, I used the knowledge +certainly; but it did not take me into the region which he knew best. +His grove of philosophy was close to the school, in K---- Park, which +is a fine enclosure of forest trees, glades, brake-fern and deer. +Here, in complete solitude, for we never saw a soul, my sentimental +education was begun by this self-appointed professor. As I remember, +he was a good-looking lad enough, with a round and merry face, high +colour, bright eyes, a moist and laughing mouth. Had he known the way +in he would have been at home in the Garden of Priapus, where perhaps +he is now. He was hardy in address, a ready speaker, rather eloquent +upon the theme that he loved, and I dare say he may have been as +fortunate as he said, or very nearly. Certainly what he had to tell me +of love and women opened my understanding. I believe that I envied him +his ease of attainment more than what he said he had attained. I might +have been stimulated by his adventures to be adventurous on my own +account, but I never was, neither at that time nor at any other. I am +quite certain that never in my life have I gone forth conquering and +to conquer in affairs of the heart. You need to be a Casanova--which +Harkness was in his little way--and I have had no aptitude for the +part. But as I said just now I absorbed his teachings and made use of +them. So far as he gave me food for reflection I ate it, and +assimilated it in my own manner. Neither by him nor by any person far +more considerable than himself has my imagination been moved in the +direction of the mover of it. Let great poet, great musician, great +painter stir me ever so deeply, I have never been able to follow him +an inch. I was excited by pictures to see new pictures of my own, by +poems to make poems--of my own, not of theirs. In these, no doubt, +were elements of theirs; there was a borrowed something, a quality, an +accent, a spirit of attack. But the forms were mine, and the setting +always so. All my life I have used other men's art and wisdom as a +spring-board. I suppose every poet can say the same. This was to be +the use to me of the lessons of the precocious, affectionate, and +philoprogenitive Harkness. + +I remember very well one golden summer evening when he and I lay +talking under a great oak--he expounding and I plucking at the grass +as I listened, or let my mind go free--how, quite suddenly, the mesh +he was weaving about my groping mind parted in the midst and showed me +for an appreciable moment a possibility of something--it was no +more--which he could never have seen. + +From the dense shade in which we lay there stretched out an avenue of +timber trees, whereunder the bracken, breast high, had been cut to +make a ride. Upon this bracken, and upon this smooth channel in the +midst the late sun streamed toward us, a soft wash of gold. Behind all +this the sky, pale to whiteness immediately overhead, deepened to the +splendid orange of the sunset. Each tree cast his shadow upon his +neighbour, so that only the topmost branches burned in the light. +Over and above us floated the drowsy hum of the insect world; rarely +we heard the moaning of a wood-dove, more rarely still the stirring of +deer hidden in the thicket shade. This was a magical evening, primed +with wonders, in the glamour of which Master Harkness could find +nothing better for him to rehearse than the progress of his amours +with his mother's housemaid. Yet something of the evening glow, +something of the opulence of summer smouldered in his words. He +painted his mistress with the colour of the sunset, he borrowed of it +burnt gold to deck her clay. He hymned the whiteness of her neck, her +slender waist, her whispers, the kisses of her mouth. The scamp was +luxuriating in his own imaginings or reminiscences, much less of a +lover and far more of a rhapsodist than he suspected. As such his paean +of precocious love stirred my senses and fired my imagination, but not +in the direction of his own. For the glow which he cast upon his +affair was a borrowed one. He had dipped without knowing into the +languid glory of the evening, which like a pool of wealth lay ready to +my hand also. I gave him faint attention from the first. After he had +started my thoughts he might sing rapture after rapture of his young +and ardent sense. For me the spirit of a world not his whispered, "_A +te convien tenere altro viaggio_," and little as I knew it, in my +vague exploration of that scene of beauty, of those scarcely stirring, +stilly burning trees, of that shimmering-fronded fern, of that misty +splendour, I was hunting for the soul of it all, for the informing +spirit of it all. Harkness's erotics gave ardour to my search, but no +clew. I lost him, left him behind, and never found him again. He fell +into the Garden of Priapus, I doubt. As for me, I believed that I was +now looking upon a Dryad. I was looking certainly at a spirit +informed. A being, irradiate and quivering with life and joy of life, +stood dipt to the breast in the brake; stood so, bathing in the light; +stood so, preening herself like a pigeon on the roof-edge, and saw me +and took no heed. + +She had appeared, or had been manifest to me, quite suddenly. At one +moment I saw the avenue of lit green, at another she was dipt in it. I +could describe her now, at this distance of time--a radiant young +female thing, fiercely favoured, smiling with a fierce joy, with a +gleam of fierce light in her narrowed eyes. Upon her body and face was +the hue of the sun's red beam; her hair, loose and fanned out behind +her head, was of the colour of natural silk, but diaphanous as well as +burnished, so that while the surfaces glittered like spun glass the +deeps of it were translucent and showed the fire behind. Her garment +was thin and grey, and it clung to her like a bark, seemed to grow +upon her as a creeping stone-weed grows. Harkness would have admired +the audacity of her shape, as I did; but I found nothing provocative +in it. As well might a boy have enamoured himself of a slim tree as of +that unearthly shaft of beauty. + +I said that she preened herself; the word is inexact. She rather stood +bathing in the light, motionless but for the lifting of her face into +it that she might dip, or for the bending of her head that the warmth +behind her might strike upon the nape of her neck. Those were all her +movements, slowly rehearsed, and again and again rehearsed. With each +of them she thrilled anew; she thrilled and glowed responsive to the +play of the light. I don't know whether she saw me, though it seemed +to me that our looks had encountered. If her eyes had taken me in I +should have known it, I think; and if I had known it I should have +quailed and looked at her no more. So shamefaced was I, so +self-conscious, that I can be positive about that; for far from +avoiding her I watched her intently, studied her in all her parts, and +found out some curious things. + +Looking at her beside the oaks, for instance, whence she must have +emanated, I could judge why it was that I had not seen her come out. +Her colouring was precisely that of her background. Her garment, smock +or frock or vest as you will, was grey-green like the oak stems, her +whites were those of the sky-gleams, her roses those of the sun's +rays. The maze of her hair could hardly be told from the photosphere. +I tested this simply and summarily. Shutting my eyes for a second, +when I opened them she was gone. Shutting them again and opening, +there she was, sunning herself, breathing deep and long, watching her +own beauties as the light played with them. I tried this many times +and it did not fail me. I could, with her assistance, bring her upon +my retina or take her off it, as if I had worked a shutter across my +eyes. But as I watched her so I got very excited. Her business was so +mysterious, her pleasure in it so absorbing; she was visible and yet +secret; I was visible, and yet she could be ignorant of it. I got the +same throbbing sort of interest out of her as many and many a time I +have got since out of watching other wild creatures at their affairs, +crouching hidden where they could not discern me by any of their +senses. Few things enthral me more than that--and here I had my first +taste of it. I remember that my heart beat, I remember that I +trembled. Nothing could have torn me from the spot but what precisely +did, an alien intervention. The besotted Harkness stopped short in +his recital and asked me what I was staring at. + +That was the end of it. I had rather have died than tell him. Perhaps +I was afraid of his mockery, perhaps I dared not risk his unbelief, +perhaps I felt ashamed that I had been prying, perhaps I grudged him +the sight of her moulded beauty and keen wild face. "What am I staring +at? Why, nothing," I said. I got up and put the strap of my school +satchel over my head. I never looked for her again before I walked +away. Whether she left when I left, whether she was really there or a +projection of my mind, whether my inner self, my prisoner, had seen +her, or my schoolboy self through his agency, whether it was a trick +of the senses, a dream, or the like I can't tell you. I only know that +I have now recalled exactly what I seemed to see, and that I have seen +her since--her or her co-mate--once or twice. + +I can account for her now easily enough. I can assure myself that she +was really there, that she, or the like of her, pervades, haunts, +indwells all such places; but it seems that there must be a right +relation between the seer and the object before the unseen can become +the seen. Put it like this, that form is a necessary convention of our +being, a mode of consciousness just as space is, just as time, just +as rhythm are; then it is clear enough that the spirits of natural +fact must take on form and sensible body before we can apprehend them. +They take on such form for us or such body through our means; that is +what I mean by a right relation between them and ourselves. Now some +persons have the faculty of discerning spirits, that is, of clothing +them in bodily form, and others have not; but of those who have it all +do not discern them in the same form, or clothe them in the same body. +The form will be rhythmical to some, to other some audible, to others +yet again odorous, "aromatic pain," or bliss. These modes are no +matter, they are accidents of our state. They cause the form to be +relative, just as the conception of God is; but the substance is +constant. I have seen innumerable spirits, but always in bodily form. +I have never perceived them by means of any other sense, such as +hearing, though sight has occasionally been assisted by hearing. If +during an orchestral symphony you look steadily enough at one musician +or another you can always hear his instrument above the rest and +follow his part in the symphony. In the same way when I look at fairy +throngs I can hear them sing. If I single out one of them for +observation I hear him or her sing--not words, never words; they have +none. I saw once, like a driven cloud, the spirits of the North-west +wind sweep down the sky over the bare ridge of a chalk down, winged +and shrouded, eager creatures, embattled like a host. They were grey +and dun-coloured, pale in the face. Their hair swept forward, not +back; for it seemed as if the wind in gusts went faster than +themselves, and was driving them faster than they could go. Another +might well have heard these beings like a terrible, rushing music, as +cries of havoc or desolation, wild peals of laughter, fury and +exultation. But to me they were inaudible. I heard the volleying of +the wind, but them I saw. So in the still ecstasy of that Dryad +bathing in light I saw, beyond doubt, what the Greeks called by that +name, what some of them saw; and I saw it in their mode, although at +the time of seeing I knew nothing of them or their modes, because it +happened to be also my mode. But so far I did not more than see her, +for though I haunted the place where she had been she never came there +again, nor never showed herself. It became to me sacred ground, where +with awed breath I could say, "Here indeed she stood and bathed +herself. Here I really saw her, and she me;" and I encompassed it with +a fantastic cult of my own invention. It may have been very comic, or +very foolish, but I don't myself think it was either, because it was +so sincere, and because the impulse to do it came so naturally. I used +to bare my head; I made a point of saving some of my luncheon (which +I took with me to school) that I might leave it there. It was real +sacrifice that, because I had a fine appetite, and it was pure +worship. In my solitary hours, which were many, I walked with her of +course, talked and played with her. But that was another thing, +imagination, or fancy, and I don't remember anything of what we said +or did. It needs to be carefully distinguished from the first +apparition with which imagination, having nothing whatever to proceed +upon, had nothing whatever to do. One thing, however, I do remember, +that our relations were entirely sexless; and, as I write, another +comes into mind. I saw no affinity between her and the creature of my +first discovery. It never occurred to me to connect the two either +positively, as being inhabitants of a world of their own, or +negatively, as not being of my world. I was not a reflective boy, but +my mind proceeded upon flashes, by leaps of intuition. When I was +moved I could conceive anything, everything; when I was unmoved I was +as dull as a clod. It was idle to tell me to think. I could only think +when I was moved from within to think. That made me the despair of my +father and the vessel of my schoolmaster's wrath. So here I saw no +relationship whatsoever between the two appearances. Now, of course, I +do. I see now that both were fairies, informed spirits of certain +times or places. For time has a spirit as well as space. But more of +this in due season. I am not synthesising now but recording. One had +been merely curious, the other for a time enthralled me. The first had +been made when I was too young to be interested. The second found me +more prepared, and seeded in my brain for many a day. Gradually, +however, it too faded as fancy began to develop within me. I took to +writing, I began to fall in love; and at fifteen I went to a +boarding-school. Farewell, then, to rewards and fairies! + + + + +THE GODS IN THE SCHOOLHOUSE + + +Who am I to treat of the private affairs of my betters, to evoke your +fragrant names, Felicite, Perpetua, loves of my tender youth? Shall I +forget thee, Emilia, thy slow smile and peering brown eyes of mischief +or appeal? Rosy Lauretta, or thee, whom I wooed desperately from afar, +lured by thy buxom wellbeing, thy meek and schooled replies? And if I +forget you not, how shall I explore you as maladies, trace out the +stages of your conquest as if you were spores? Never, never. Worship +went up from me to you, and worship is religion, and religion is +sacred. So, my dears, were you, each of you in your turn, sacred in +your shrines. Before each of you in turn I fell down, suddenly, "_Come +corpo morto cadde_." And to each of you in turn I devoted those waking +hours which fancy had hitherto claimed of me. Yet this I do feel free +to say, by leave of you ladies, that calf-love has not the educative +value of the genuine passion. It is blind worship by instinct; it is a +sign of awakening sense, but it is not its awakener. It is a lovely +thing as all quick or burning growth is, but it has little relation +to the soul, and our Northern state is the more gracious that +consummation of it is not feasible. Apart from the very obvious +drawbacks there is one not quite so obvious: I mean the early +exhaustion of imaginative sympathy. Love, indeed, is an affair of +maturity. I don't believe that a man, in this country, can love before +forty or a woman before thirty-five. They may marry before that and +have children; and they will love their children, but very rarely each +other. I am thinking now of love at its highest rating, as that +passion which is able to lift a man to the highest flight of which the +soul is capable here on earth--a flight, mind you, which it may take +without love, as the poet's takes it, or the musician's, but which the +ordinary man's can only take by means of love. Calf-love is wholly a +sex matter, perfectly natural, mostly harmless, and nearly always a +beautiful thing, to be treated tenderly by the wise parent. + +In my own case my mother treated it so, with a tact and a reverential +handling which only good women know, and I had it as I had mumps and +measles, badly, with a high temperature and some delirium but with no +aggravation from outside. It ran its course or its courses and left me +sane. One of its effects upon me was that it diverted the mind of my +forensic self from the proceedings or aptitudes of my recondite. I +neither knew nor cared what my wayward tenant might be doing; indeed, +so much was my natural force concerned in the heart-affair of the +moment that the other wretch within me lay as it were bound in a +dungeon. He never saw the light. The sun to him was dark and silent +was the moon. There, in fact, he remained for some five or six years, +while sex pricked its way into me intent upon the making of a man. He, +maybe, was to have something to say to that, something to do with +it--but not yet. + +So much for calf-love; but now for a more important matter. I left the +Grammar School at S----, at the age when boys usually go to their +Harrow and Winchester, as well equipped, I daresay, as most boys of my +years; for with the rudiments I had been fairly diligent, and with +some of them even had become expert. I was well grounded in Latin and +French grammar, and in English literature was far ahead of boys much +older than myself. Looking back now upon the drilling I had at S----, +I consider it was well done; but I have to set against the benefits I +got from the system the fact that I had much privacy and all the +chance which that gives a boy to educate himself withal. My school +hours limited my intercourse with the school world. Before and after +them I could develop at my own pace and in my own way--and I did. I +believe that when I went to my great school I had the makings of an +interesting lad in me; but I declare upon my conscience that it was +that place only which checked the promise for ten years or more, and +might have withered it altogether. + +My father was an idealist of 1851; he showed the enthusiasm and nursed +in his bosom the hopes and beliefs of the promoters of the +International Exhibition of that year. There was a plentiful planting +of foreign stock in England after that, and one of its weedy saplings +was an International Education Company, which out of a magniloquent +prospectus and some too-confident shareholders bore one fruit, the +London International College at Spring Grove. It never came to +maturity, and is now dropped and returned to the ground of all such +schemes. I suppose it had been on the stalk some fifteen years when I +went to feed of it. + +The scheme, in fact, sprang out of enthusiasm and had no bottom in +experience. It may be true that all men are brothers, but it is not +logical to infer from that that all brothers are the better for each +other's society. The raw Brazilians, Chilians, Nicaraguans and what +not who were drawn from their native forests and plunged into the +company of blockish Yorkshire lads, or sharp-faced London boys, were +only scared into rebellion and to demonstration after their manner. +They used the knife sometimes; they hardly ever assimilated; and they +taught us nothing that we were the better of knowing. Quite the +contrary. We taught them football, I think, and I remember a negro +from Bermuda, a giant of a fellow who raged over the ground like a +goaded bull when that game was being played, to the consternation of +his opponents. He had a younger brother with inordinately long arms, +like a great lax ape, a cheerful, grinning, harmless creature as I +remember him. He was a football player too; his hug was that of an +octopus which swallowed you all. As for the English, in return for +their football lore they received the gift of tobacco. I learned to +smoke at fifteen from a Chilian called Perez, a wizened, +preternaturally wise, old youth. Nobody in the world could have been +wise as he looked, and nobody else in the school as dull as he really +was. Over this motley assembly was set as house-master a ferocious +Scotchman of great parts, but no discretion; and there were +assistants, too, of scholarship and refinement, who, if they had had +the genius for education, without which these things are nothing, +might have put humanity into some of us. When it was past the time I +discovered this, and one of them became my friend and helper. I then +discovered the tragedy of our system from the other side. For the +pain is a two-edged sword, and imbrues the breast of the pedagogue +even while it bleeds the pupil to inanition. That poor man, scholar, +gentleman, humourist, poet, as he was, held boys in terror. He +misdoubted them; they made him self-conscious, betrayed him into +strange hidden acts of violence, rendered him incapable of instruction +except of the most conventional kind. All his finer nature, his +humanism, was paralysed. We thought him a poor fool, and got a crude +entertainment out of his antics. Actually he was tormenting in a +flame; and we thought his contortions ridiculous. God help us all, how +are we to get at each other, caged creatures as we are! But this is +indeed a tragic business, and I don't want you to tear your hair. + +I remained at Spring Grove, I think, four or five years, a barren, +profitless time. I remember scarcely one gleam of interest which +pierced for more than a few moments the thick gloom of it. The cruel, +dull, false gods of English convention (for thought it is not) held me +fast; masters and pupils alike were jailers to me. I ate and drank of +their provision and can recall still with nausea the sour, stale +taste, and still choke with the memory of the chaff and grit of its +quality. Accursed, perverse generation! God forbid that any child of +mine should suffer as I suffered, starve as I starved, stray where I +was driven to stray. The English boarding-school system is that of the +straw-yard where colts are broken by routine, and again of the +farmyard where pups are walked. Drill in school, _laissez-faire_ out +of it. It is at once too dull and too indolent to recognise character +or even to look for it; it recks nothing of early development or late; +it measures young humanity for its class-rooms like a tailor, with the +yard measure. The discipline of boy over boy is, as might be expected, +brutal or bestial. The school-yard is taken for the world in small, +and so allowed to be. There is no thought taken, or at least betrayed, +that it is nothing more than a preparation for the world at large. +There is no reason, however, to suppose that the International College +was worse than any other large boarding-school. I fancy, indeed, that +it was in all points like the rest. There were no traces in my time of +the Brotherhood of Man about it. A few Portuguese, a negro or two were +there, and a multitude of Jews. But I fancy I should have found the +same sort of thing at Eton. + +I was not in any sense suited to such a place as this; if I had been +sent to travel it had been better for me. I was "difficult," not +because I was stiff but because I was lax. I resisted nothing except +by inertia. If my parents did not know me--and how should they?--if I +did not know myself, and I did not, my masters, for their part, made +no attempt to know me nor even inquired whether there might be +anything to know. I was unpopular, as might have been expected, made +no friends, did no good. My brother, on the other hand, was an ideal +schoolboy, diligent, brisk, lovable, abounding in friendships, good at +his work and excellent at his play. His career at Spring Grove was one +long happy triumph, and he deserved it. He has a charming nature, and +is one of the few naturally holy persons I know. Wholesome, thank God, +we all are, or could be; pious we nearly all are; but holiness is a +rare quality. + +If I were to try and set down here the really happy memories which I +have of Spring Grove they would be three. The first was the revelation +of Greece which was afforded me by Homer and Plato. The surging music +and tremendous themes of the poet, the sweet persuasion of the sophist +were a wonder and delight. I remember even now the thrill with which I +heard my form-master translate for us the prayer with which the +_Phaedrus_ closes: "Beloved Pan, and all ye other gods who haunt this +place...." Beloved Pan! My knowledge of Pan was of the vaguest, and +yet more than once or twice did I utter that prayer wandering alone +the playing field, or watching the evening mist roll down the Thames +Valley and blot up the elm trees, thick and white, clinging to the day +like a fleece. The third Iliad again I have never forgotten, nor the +twenty-fourth; nor the picture of the two gods, like vulture birds, +watching the battle from the dead tree. Nor, again, do I ever fail to +recapture the beat of the heart with which I apprehended some of +Homer's phrases: "Sandy Pylos," Argos "the pasture land of horses," or +"clear-seen" Ithaca. These things happened upon by chance in the dusty +class-room, in the close air of that terrible hour from two to three, +were as the opening of shutters to the soul, revealing blue distances, +dim fields, or the snowy peaks of mountains in the sun. One seemed to +lift, one could forget. It lasted but an instant; but time is of no +account to the inner soul, of no more account than it is to God. I +have never forgotten these moments of escape; nor can I leave Homer +without confessing that his books became my Bible. I accepted his +theology implicitly; I swallowed it whole. The Godhead of the +Olympians, the lesser divinity of Thetis and Alpheios and Xanthos were +indisputable. They were infinitely more real to me than the deities of +my own land; and though I have found room for these later on in life, +it has not been by displacing the others. Nor is there any need for +that, so far as I see. I say that out of Homer I took his Gods; I add +that I took them instantly. I seemed to breathe the air of their +breath; they appealed to my reason; I knew that they had existed and +did still exist. I was not shocked or shaken in my faith, either, by +anything I read about them. Young as I was and insipient, I was +prepared for what is called the burlesque Olympus of the Iliad, so +grievous to Professor Murray. I think I recognised then, what seems +perfectly plain to me now, that you might as well think meanly of a +God of Africa because the natives make him of a cocoanut on a stick, +as of Zeus and Hera because Homer says that they played peccant +husband and jealous wife. If Homer halted it is rash to assume that +Hephaistos did. The pathetic fallacy has crept in here. Mythology was +one of the few subjects I diligently read at school, and all I got out +of it was pure profit--for I realised that the Gods' world was not +ours, and that when their natures came in conflict with ours some such +interpretation must always be put upon their victory. We have a moral +law for our mutual wellbeing which they have not. We translate their +deeds in terms of that law of ours, and it certainly appears like a +standing fact of Nature that when the beings of one order come into +commerce with those of another the result will be tragic. There is +only a harmony in acquiescence, and the way to that is one of blood +and tears. + +Brooding over all this I discerned dimly, even in that dusty, brawling +place, and time showed me more and more clearly, that I had always +been aware of the Gods and conscious of their omnipresence. It seemed +plain to me that Zeus, whose haunt is dark Dodona, lorded it over the +English skies and was to be heard in the thunder crashing over the +elms of Middlesex. I knew Athene in the shrill wind which battled +through the vanes and chimneys of our schoolhouse. Artemis was Lady of +my country. By Apollo's light might I too come to be led. Poseidon of +the dark locks girdled my native seas. I had had good reason to know +the awfulness of Pan, and guessed that some day I should couch with +Kore the pale Queen. I called them by these names, since these names +expressed to me their essence: you may call them what you will, and so +might I, for I had not then reasoned with myself about names. By their +names I knew them. The Gods were there, indeed, ignorantly worshipped +by all and sundry. Then the Dryad of my earlier experience came up +again, and I saw that she stood in such a relation to the Gods as I +did, perhaps, to the Queen of England; that she, no less than they, +was part of a wonderful order, and the visible expression of the +spirit of some Natural Fact. But whether above all the Gods and +nations of men and beasts there were one God and Father of us all, +whether all Nature were one vast synthesis of Spirit having +innumerable appearance but one soul, I did not then stay to inquire, +and am not now prepared to say. I don't mean by that at all that I +don't believe it. I do believe it, but by an act of religion; for +there are states of the individual mind, states of impersonal soul in +which this belief is a positive truth, in the which one exults madly, +or by it is humbled to the dust. Religion, to my mind, is the result +of this consciousness of kinship with the principle of Life; all the +emotion and moral uplifting involved in this tremendous certainty, and +all the lore gathered and massed about it--this is Religion. Young as +I was at the time I now speak of, ignorant and dumb as I was, I had my +moments of exultation and humility,--moments so wild that I was +transported out of myself. I left my body supine in its narrow bed and +soared above the stars. At such times, in an aether so deep that the +blue of it looked like water, I seemed to see the Gods themselves, a +shining row of them, upon the battlements of Heaven. I called Heaven +Olympus, and conceived of Olympus as a towered city upon a white hill. +Looming up out of the deep blue arch, it was vast and covered the +whole plateau: I saw the walls of it run up and down the ridges, in +and out of the gorges which cut into the mass. It had gates, but I +never saw forms of any who entered or left it. It was full of light, +and had the look of habitancy about it; but I saw no folk. Only at +rare moments of time while I hovered afar off looking at the wonder +and radiance of it, the Gods appeared above the battlements in a +shining row--still and awful, each of them ten feet high. + +These were fine dreams for a boy of sixteen in a schoolhouse +dormitory. They were mine, though: but I dreamed them awake. I awoke +before they began, always, and used to sit up trembling and wait for +them. + +An apologue, if you please. On the sacred road from Athens to Eleusis, +about midway of its course, and just beyond the pass, there is a fork +in it, and a stony path branches off and leads up into the hills. +There, in the rock, is a shallow cave, and before that, where once was +an altar of Aphrodite, the ruins of her shrine and precinct may be +seen. As I was going to Eleusis the other day, I stopped the carriage +to visit the place. Now, beside the cave is a niche, cut square in the +face of the rock, for offerings; and in that niche I found a fresh +bunch of field flowers, put there by I know not what dusty-foot +wayfarer. That was no longer ago than last May, and the man who did +the piety was a Christian, I suppose. So do I avow myself, without +derogation, I hope, to the profession; for no more than Mr. Robert +Kirk, a minister of religion in Scotland in the seventeenth century, +do I consider that a knowledge of the Gods is incompatible with belief +in God. There is a fine distinction for you: I believe that God +exists; I infer him by reason stimulated by desire. But I know that +the Gods exist by other means than those. If I could be as sure of God +as I am of the Gods, I might perhaps be a better Christian, but I +should not believe any less in the Gods. + + * * * * * + +I found religion through Homer: I found poetry through Milton, whose +_Comus_ we had to read for examination by some learned Board. If any +one thing definitely committed me to poesy it was that poem; and as +has nearly always happened to me, the crisis of discovery came in a +flash. We were all there ranked at our inky desks on some drowsy +afternoon. The books lay open before us, the lesson, I suppose, +prepared. But what followed had not been prepared--that some one began +to read: + + "The star that bids the shepherd fold + Now the top of Heav'n doth hold; + And the gilded car of day + His glowing axle doth allay + In the steep Atlantic stream"-- + +and immediately, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, it was +changed--for me--from verse to poetry; that is, from a jingle to a +significant fact. It was more than it appeared; it was transfigured; +its implication was manifest. That's all I can say--except this, that, +untried as I was, I jumped into the poetic skin of the thing, and felt +as if I had written it. I knew all about it, "_e'l chi, e'l quale_"; I +was privy to its intricacy; I caught without instruction the +alternating beat in the second line, and savoured all the good words, +_gilded car_, _glowing axle_, _Star that bids the shepherd fold_. +_Allay_ ravished me, young as I was. I knew why he had called the +Atlantic stream _steep_, and remembered Homer's "[Greek: Stugos +hudatos aipa rheethra]." Good soul, our pedagogue suggested _deep_! I +remember to this hour the sinking of the heart with which I heard him. +But the flash passed and darkness again gathered about me, the normal +darkness of those hateful days. "Sabrina fair" lifted it; my sky +showed me an amber shaft. I am recording moments, the reader will +remember, the few gleams which visited me in youth. I was far from the +time when I could connect them, see that poetry was the vesture of +religion, the woven garment whereby we see God. Love had to teach me +that. I was not born until I loved. + +My third happy memory is of a brief and idyllic attachment, very +fervent, very romantic, entirely my own, and as I remember it, now, +entirely beautiful. Nothing remains but the fragrance of it, and its +dream-like quality, the sense I have of straying with the beloved +through a fair country. Such things assure me that I was not wholly +dead during those crushing years of servitude. + +But those are, as I say, gleams out of the dark. They comfort me with +the thought that the better part of me was not dead, but buried here +with the worse. They point also to the truth, as I take it to be, that +the lack of privacy is one of the most serious detriments of +public-school life. I don't say that privacy is good for all boys, or +that it is good for any unless they are provided with a pursuit. It is +true that many boys seek to be private that they may be vicious, and +that the having the opportunity for privacy leads to vice. But that is +nearly always the fault of the masters. Vice is due to the need for +mental or material excitement; it is a crude substitute for romance. +If a boy is debarred from good romance, because he doesn't feel it or +hasn't been taught to feel it, he will take to bad. It is nothing else +at all: he is bored. And remembering that a boy can only think of one +thing at a time, the single aim of the master should be to give every +boy in his charge some sane interest which he can pursue to the death, +as a terrier chases a smell, in and out, up and down, every nerve bent +and quivering. There is a problem of the teaching art which the +College at Spring Grove made no attempt to solve while I was there. +You either played football and cricket or you were negligible. I was +bad at both, was negligible, and neglected. + +I suspect that my experiences are very much those of other people, and +that is why I have taken the trouble to articulate them, and perhaps +to make them out more coherent than they were. We don't feel in images +or think in words. The images are about us, the words may be at hand; +but it may well be that we are better without them. This world is a +tight fit, and life in it, as the Duke said of one day of his own +life, is "a devilish close-run thing." If the blessed Gods and the +legions of the half-gods in their habit as they live, were to be as +clear to us as our neighbour Tom or our chief at the office, what +might be the lot of Tom's wife, or what the security of our high stool +at the desk? As things are, our blank misgivings are put down to +nerves, our yearning for wings to original sin. The policeman at the +street corner sees to it, for our good, that we put out of sight these +things, and so we grow rich and make a good appearance. It is only +when we are well on in years that we can afford to be precise and, +looking back, to remember the celestial light, the glory and the +freshness of the dream in which we walked and bathed ourselves. + + + + +THE SOUL AT THE WINDOW + + +When I had been in London a year or two, and the place with its hordes +was become less strange and less formidable to me, I began to discover +it for myself. Gradually the towering cliffs resolved themselves into +houses, and the houses into shrouded holds, each with character and +each hiding a mystery. They now stood solitary which had before been +an agglutinated mass. Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.... I knew +one from the other by sight, and had for each a specific sensation of +attraction or repulsion, of affection or terror. I read through the +shut doors, I saw through the blank windows; not a house upon my daily +road but held a drama or promised a tragedy. I had no sense for comedy +in those days; life to me, waking life, was always a dreadful thing. +And sometimes my bodily eyes had glimpses which confirmed my +fancy--unexpected, sudden and vivid flashes behind curtained windows. +I once saw two men fighting, shadowed black upon a white blind. I once +looked out of a window at the Army and Navy Stores into a mean +bedroom across the way. There was a maidservant in there, making beds, +emptying slops, tidying this and that. Quite suddenly she threw her +head up with a real despair, and next moment she was on her knees by +the bed. Praying! I never saw prayer like that in this country. The +soul went streaming from her mouth like blown smoke. And again, one +night, very late, I was going to bed, and leaned out of my window for +air. Before me, across back yards, leafless trees, and a litter of +packing-cases and straw, rose up a dark rampart of houses, in the +midst of it a lit window. I saw a poorly furnished sitting-room--a +table with a sewing machine, a paraffin lamp, a chair with an +antimacassar. A man in his shirt sleeves sat there by the table, +smoking a pipe. Then the door opened and a tall, slim woman came in, +all in white, with loose dark hair floating about her shoulders. She +stood between door and table and rested her hand upon the edge of the +table. The man, after a while of continuing to read, quite suddenly +looked up and saw her. They looked at each other motionless. He cast +down his paper, sprang up and went to her. He fell to his knees before +her and clasped hers. She looked across, gravely considering, then +laid her hand upon his head. That was all. I saw no more. Husband and +wife? Mother and son? Sinner and Saviour? What do I know? + +As with the houses, homes of mystery, so with the men and women one +passed; homes, they too, of things hidden yet more deep. The noise of +the streets, at first paralysing, died down to a familiar rumble, and +the ear began to distinguish voices in the tide. Sounds of crying, +calls for help, hailings, laughter, tears, separated themselves and +appealed. You heard them, like the cries of the drowning, drifting by +you upon a dark tide-way. You could do nothing; a word would have +broken the spell. The mask which is always over the face would have +covered the tongue or throttled the larynx. You could do nothing but +hear. + +Finally, the passing faces became sometimes penetrable, betrayed by +some chance gleam of the eyes, some flicker of the lips, a secret to +be shared, or conveyed by a hint some stabbing message out of the deep +into the deep. That is what I mean by the soul at the window. Every +one of us lives in a guarded house; door shut, windows curtained. Now +and then, however, you look up above the street level and catch a +glimpse of the scared prisoner inside. He may be a satyr, a fairy, an +ape or an angel; he's a prisoner anyhow, who sometimes comes to the +window and looks strangely out. You may see him there by chance, +saying to himself like Chaucer's Creseyde in the temple, "Ascaunces, +What! May I not stonden here?" And I found out for myself that there +is scarcely a man or woman alive who does not hold such a tenant more +or less deeply within his house. + +Sometimes the walls of the house are transparent, like a frog's foot, +and you see the prisoner throbbing and quivering inside. This is rare. +Shelley's house must have been a filmy tenement of the kind. With +children--if you catch them young enough--it is more common. I +remember one whom I used to see nearly every day, the child of poor +parents, who kept a green-grocer's shop in Judd Street, Saint Pancras, +a still little creature moving about in worlds not recognised. She was +slim and small, fair-haired, honey-coloured, her eyes wells of blue. I +used to see her standing at the door of the shop, amid baskets of +green stuff, crimsoned rhubarb, pyramided dates, and what not. I never +saw her dirty or untidy, nor heard her speak, nor saw her laugh. She +stood or leaned at the lintel, watching I know not what, but certainly +not anything really there, as we say. She appeared to be looking +through objects rather than at them. I can describe it no otherwise +than that I, or another, crossed her field of vision and was conscious +that her eyes met mine and yet did not see me. To me she was instantly +remarkable, not for this and not for any beauty she had--for she was +not at all extraordinary in that quality--but for this, that she was +not of our kind. Surrounded by other children, playing gaily, circling +about her, she was _sui generis_. She carried her own atmosphere, +whereby in the company of others she seemed unaccountable, by herself +only, normal. Nature she fitted perfectly, but us she did not fit. +Now, it is a curious thing, accepted by all visionaries, that a +supernatural being, a spirit, fairy, not-human creature, if you see it +among animals, beasts and birds, on hills or in the folds of hills, +among trees, by waters, in fields of flowers, _looks at home_ and +evidently is so. The beasts are conscious of it, know it and have no +fear of it; the hills and valleys are its familiar places in a way +which they will never be to the likes of us. But put a man beside it +and it becomes at once supernatural. I have seen spirits, beings, +whatever they may be, in empty space, and have observed them as part +of the landscape, no more extraordinary than grazing cattle or +wheeling plover. Again I have seen a place thick with them, as thick +as a London square in a snow-storm, and a man walk clean through them +unaware of their existence, and make them, by that act, a mockery of +the senses. So precisely it was with this strange child, unreal to me +when she was real to everybody else. + +She had a name, a niche in the waking world. Marks, Greengrocer, was +the inscription of the shop. She was Elsie Marks. Her father was a +stout, florid man of maybe fifty years, with a chin-beard and +light-blue eyes. Good-humoured he seemed, and prosperous, something of +a ready wit, a respected and respectable man, who stamped his way +about the solid ground in a way which defied dreams. + +If I had been experienced, I should have remarked the mother, but in +fact I barely remember her, though I spoke with her one day. She was +somewhat heavy and grave, I think, downcast and yet watchful. She did +her business efficiently, without enthusiasm, and did not enter into +general conversation with her customers. Her husband did that part of +the business. Marks was a merry Jew. I bought oranges of her once for +the sake of hearing her speak, and while she was serving me the child +came into the shop and stood by her. She leaned against her rather +than stood, took the woman's disengaged arm and put it round her neck. +Looks passed between them; the mother's sharply down, the child's +searchingly up. On either side there was pain, as if each tried to +read the other. + +I was very shy with strangers. The more I wanted to get on terms with +them the less I was able to do it. I asked the child whether she liked +oranges. + +I asked the child, but the mother answered me, measuring her words. + +"She likes nothing of ours. It's we that like and she that takes." +That was her reply. + +"I am sure that she likes you at any rate," I said. Her hold on the +child tightened, as if to prevent an escape. + +"She should, since I bore her. But she has much to forgive me." + +Such a word left me dumb. I was not then able to meet women on such +terms. Nor did I then understand her as I do now. + +Here is another case. There was a slatternly young woman whom I +caught, or who caught me, unawares; who suddenly threw open the +windows and showed me things I had never dreamed. + +Opposite the chambers in R---- Buildings where I worked, or was +intended to work, and across a wall, there was a row of tenements +called, if I remember, Gaylord's Rents. Part mews, part warehouses, +and all disreputable, the upper story of it, as it showed itself to me +over the wall, held some of the frowsiest of London's horde. Exactly +before my eyes was one of the lowest of these hovels, the upper part +of a stable, I imagine, since it had, instead of a window, a door, of +which half was always shut and half always open, so that light might +get in or the tenants lean out to take the air. + +Here, and so leaning her bare elbows, I saw on most days of the week a +slim young woman airing herself--a pale-faced, curling-papered, +half-bodiced, unwashed drab of a girl, who would have had shame +written across her for any one to read if she had not seemed of all +women I have ever seen the least shamefaced. Her brows were as +unwritten as a child's, her smile as pure as a seraph's, and her eyes +blue, unfaltering and candid. She laughed a greeting, exchanged +gossip, did her sewing, watched events, as the case might be, was not +conscious of her servitude or anxious to market it. Sometimes she +shared her outlook with an old woman--a horrible, greasy go-between, +with straggling grey hair and a gin-inflamed face. She chatted with +this beldame happily, she cupped her vile old dewlap, or stroked her +dishonourable head; sometimes a man in shirt sleeves was with her, +treated her familiarly, with rude embraces, with kisses, nudges and +leers. She accepted all with good-humour and, really, complete good +breeding. She invited nothing, provoked nothing, but resented nothing. +It seemed to me as if all these things were indeed nothing to her; +that she hardly knew that they were done; as if her soul could render +them at their proper worth, transmute them, sherd them off, discard +them. It was, then, her surface which took them; what her soul +received was a distillation, an essence. + +Then one night I had all made plain. She entranced me on a summer +night of stillness, under a full yellow moon. I was working late, till +past ten, past eleven o'clock, and looking out of my open window +suddenly was aware of her at hers. The shutter was down, both wings of +it, and she stood hovering, seen at full length, above the street. +She! Could this be she? It was so indeed--but she was transfigured, +illuminated from within; she rayed forth light. The moon shone full +upon her, and revealed her pure form from head to foot swathed in +filmy blue--a pale green-blue, the colour of ocean water seen from +below. Translucent webbery, whatever it was, it showed her beneath it +as bare as Venus was when she fared forth unblemished from the sea. +Her pale yellow hair was coiled above her head; her face looked mild +and radiant with a health few Londoners know. Her head was bent in a +considering way; she stood as one who is about to plunge into deep +water, and stands hesitating at the shock. Once or twice she turned +her face up, to bathe it in the light. I saw that in it which in human +faces I had never seen--communion with things hidden from men, secret +knowledge shared with secret beings, assurance of power above our +hopes. + +Breathless I watched her, the drab of my daily observation, radiant +now; then as I watched she stretched out her arms and bent them +together like a shield so that her burning face was hidden from me, +and without falter or fury launched herself into the air, and dropt +slowly down out of my sight. + +Exactly so she did it. As we may see a pigeon or chough high on the +verge of a sea-cliff float out into the blue leagues of the air, and +drift motionless and light--or descend to the sea less by gravity than +at will--so did she. There was nothing premeditated, there was nothing +determined on: mood was immediately translated into ability--she was +at will lighter or heavier than the air. It was so done that here was +no shock at all--she in herself foreshadowed the power she had. +Rather, it would have been strange to me if, irradiated, transplendent +as she was, she had not considered her freedom and on the instant +indulged it. I accepted her upon her face value without question--I +did not run out to spy upon her. _Ecce unus fortior me!_ + +In this case, being still new to the life into which I was gradually +being drawn, it did not for one moment occur to me to start an +adventure of my own. I might have accosted the woman, who was, as the +saying goes, anybody's familiar; or I might have spied for another +excursion of her spirit, and, with all preparation made, have followed +her. But I did neither of these things at the time. I saw her next +day leaning bare-elbowed on the ledge of her half-door, her hair in +curl-papers, her face the pale unwholesome pinched oval of most London +women of her class. Her bodice was pinned across her chest; she was +coarse-aproned, new from the wash-tub or the grate. Not a sign upon +her but told of her frowsy round. The stale air of foul lodgment was +upon her. I found out indeed this much about her ostensible state, +that she was the wife of a cab-driver whose name was Ventris. He was +an ill-conditioned, sottish fellow who treated her badly, but had +given her a child. But he was chiefly on night-work at Euston, and the +man whom I had seen familiar with her in the daytime was not he. Her +reputation among her neighbours was not good. She was, in fact, no +better than she should be--or, as I prefer to put it, no better than +she could be. + +Yet I knew her, withal, as of the fairy-kind, bound to this +earth-bondage by some law of the Universe not yet explored; not +pitiable because not self-pitying, and (what is more important) not +reprehensible because impossible to be bound, as we are, soul to body. +I know that now, but did not know it then; and yet--extraordinary +thing--I was never shocked by the contrast between her two states of +being. This is to me a clear and certain evidence of their +reality--just as it is evidence to me that when, at ten years old, I +seemed to see the boy in the wood, I really did see him. An +hallucination or a dream upsets your moral balance. The things +impressed upon you are abnormal; and the abnormal disturbs you. Now +these apparitions did not seem abnormal. I saw nothing wonderful in +Mrs. Ventris's act. I was impressed by it, I was excited by it, as I +still am by a convulsion of nature--a thunder-storm in the Alps, for +instance, a water-spout at sea. Such things hold beauty and terror; +they entrance, they appal; but they never shock. They happen, and they +are right. I have not seen what people call a ghost, and I have often +been afraid lest I should see one. But I know very well that if ever I +did I should have no fear. I know very well that a natural fact +impresses its conformity with law upon you first and last. It becomes, +on the moment of its appearance, a part of the landscape. If it does +not, it is an hallucination, or a freak of the imagination, and will +shock you. I have much more extraordinary experiences than this to +relate, but there will be nothing shocking in these pages--at least +nothing which gave me the least sensation of shock. One of them--a +thing extraordinary to all--must occupy a chapter by itself. I cannot +precisely fit a date to it, though I shall try. And as it forms a +whole, having a beginning, a middle and an end, I shall want to +depart from my autobiographical plan and put it in as a whole. The +reader will please to recollect that it did not work itself out in my +consciousness by a flash. The first stages of it came so, in flashes +of revelation; but the conclusion was of some years later, when I was +older and more established in the world. + + * * * * * + +But before I embark upon it I should like to make a large jump forward +and finish with the young woman of Gaylord's Rents. It was by accident +that I happened upon her at her mysteries, at a later day when I was +living in London, in Camden Town. + +By that time I had developed from a lad of inarticulate mind and +unexpressed desires into a sentient and self-conscious being. I was +more or less of a man, not only adventurous but bold in the pursuit of +adventure. I lived for some two or three years in that sorry quarter +of London in complete solitude--"in poverty, total idleness and the +pride of literature," like Doctor Johnson, for though I wrote little I +read much, and though I wrote little I was most conscious that I was +about to write much. It was a period of brooding, of mewing my youth, +and whatever facility of imagination and expression I have since +attained I owe very much to my hermitage in Albert Street. + +If I walked in those days it was by night. London at night is a very +different place from the town of business and pleasure of ordinary +acquaintance. During the day I fulfilled my allotted hours at the +desk; but immediately they were over I returned to my lodgings, got +out my books, and sat enthralled until somewhere near midnight. But +then, instead of going to bed, I was called by the night, and forth I +sallied all agog. I walked the city, the embankment, skirted the +parks, unless I were so fortunate as to slip in before gate-shutting. +Often I was able to remain in Kensington Gardens till the opening +hour. Highgate and its woods, Parliament Hill with its splendid +panorama of twinkling beacons and its noble tent of stars, were great +fields for me. Hampstead Heath, Wimbledon, even Richmond and Bushey +have known me at their most secret hour. Such experiences as I have +had of the preternatural will find their place in this book, but not +their chronological place, for the simple reason that, as I kept no +diary, I cannot remember in what order of time they befell me. But it +was on the southern slope of Parliament Hill that I came again upon +the fairy-woman of Gaylord's Rents. + +I was there at midnight, a mild radiant night of late April. There +were sheep at graze there, for though it was darkish under the +three-quarter moon, I was used to the dark, and could see them, a +woolly mass, quietly feeding close together. I saw no shepherd +anywhere; but I remember that his dog sat on his haunches apart, +watching them. He was prick-eared, bright-eyed; he grinned and panted +intensely. I didn't then know why he was so excited, but very soon I +did. + +I became aware, gradually, that a woman stood among the sheep. She had +not been there when I first saw them, I am sure; nor did I see her +approach them or enter their school. Yet there she was in the midst of +them, seen now by me as she had evidently been seen for some time by +the dog, seen, I suppose, by the sheep--at any rate she stood in the +midst of them, as I say, with her hand actually upon the shoulder of +one of them--but not feared or doubted by any soul of us. The dog was +vividly interested, but did not budge; the sheep went on feeding; I +stood bolt upright, watching. + +I knew her the moment I saw her. She was the exquisitely formed, slim +and glowing creature I had seen before, when she launched herself into +the night as a God of Homer--Hermes or Thetis--launched out from +Olympus' top into the sea--"[Greek: ex aitheros empese ponto]," and +words fail me to describe the perfection of her being, a radiant +simulacrum of our own, the inconscient self-sufficiency, the buoyancy +and freedom which she showed me. You may sometimes see boys at their +maddest tip of expectation stand waiting as she now stood, quivering +on the extreme edge of adventure; yet even in their case there is a +consciousness of well being, a kind of rolling of anticipation upon +the palate, a getting of the flavours beforehand. That involves a +certain dissipation of activity; but here all was concentrated. The +whole nature of the creature was strung to one issue only, to that +point when she could fling headlong into activity--an activity in +which every fibre and faculty would be used. A comparison of the +fairy-kind with human beings is never successful, because into our +images of human beings we always import self-consciousness. They know +what they are doing. Fairies do not. But wait a moment; there is a +reason. Human creatures, I think, know what they are doing only too +well, because performance never agrees with desire. They know what +they are doing because it is never exactly what they meant to do, or +what they wanted to do. Now, with fairies, desire to do and +performance are instinctive and simultaneous. If they think, they +think in action. In this they are far more like animals than human +creatures, although the form in which they appear to us, their shape +and colouring are like ours, enhanced and refined. Here now stood this +creature in the semblance of a woman glorified, quivering; and so, +perched high on his haunches, sat the shepherd's dog, and no one could +look at the two and not see their kinship. _Arriere-pensee_ they had +none--and all's said in that. They were shameless, and we are full of +shame. There's the difference; and it is a gulf. + +After a while of this quivering suspense she gave a low call, a long +mellow and tremulous cry which, gentle as it was, startled by its +suddenness, as the unexpected call of a water-fowl out of the reeds of +a pond makes the heart jump toward the throat. It was like some bird's +call, but I know of no bird's with which to get a close comparison. It +had the soft quality, soft yet piercing, of a redshank's, but it +shuddered like an owl's. And she held it on as an owl does. But it was +very musical, soft and open-throated, and carried far. It was answered +from a distance, first by a single voice; but then another took it up, +and another; and then another. Slowly so the soft night was filled +with musical cries which quavered about me as fitfully as fire-flies +gleam and glance in all quarters of a garden of olive-trees. It was +enchantment to the ear, a ravishing sound; but it was my eyes which +claimed me now, for soon I saw them coming from all quarters. Or +rather, I saw them there, for I can't say definitely that I saw any +one of them on the way. It is truer to say that I looked and they were +there. Where had been one were now two. Now two were five; now five +were a company; now the company was a host. I have no idea how many +there were of them at any time; but when they joined hands and set to +whirling in a ring they seemed to me to stretch round Parliament Hill +in an endless chain. + +How can I be particular about them? They were of both sexes--that was +put beyond doubt; they were garbed as the first of them in something +translucent and grey. It had been quite easy in the lamplight to see +the bare form of the woman whom I first saw in Gaylord's Rents. It was +plain to me that her companions were in the same kind of dress. I +don't think they had girdles; I think their arms and legs were bare. I +should describe the garment as a sleeveless smock to the knees, or +perhaps, more justly, as a sack of silky gauze with a hole for the +head and two for the arms. That was the effect of it. It hung straight +and took the folds natural to it. It was so light that it clung +closely to the body where it met the air. What it was made of I have +no notion; but it was transparent or nearly so. I am pretty sure that +its own colour was grey. + +They greeted each other; they flitted about from group to group +greeting; and they greeted by touching, sometimes with their hands, +sometimes with their cheeks. They neither kissed nor spoke. I never +saw them kiss even when they loved--which they rarely did. I saw one +greeting between two females. They ran together and stopped short +within touching distance. They looked brightly and intently at each +other, and leaning forward approached their cheeks till they +touched.[2] They touched by the right, they touched by the left. Then +they took hands and drew together. By a charming movement of +confidence one nestled to the side of the other and resting her head +looked up and laughed. The taller embraced her with her arm and held +her for a moment. The swiftness of the act and its grace were +beautiful to see. Then hand in hand they ran to others who were a +little further off. The elder and taller had a wild dark face with +stern lips, like a man's; the younger was a beautiful little creature +with quick, squirrel's motions. I remember her hair, which looked +white in that light, but was no doubt lint colour. It was extremely +long, and so fine that it clung to her shoulders and back like a web +of thin silk. + +[Footnote 2: I argue from this peculiar manner of greeting, which I +have observed several times, that these beings converse by contact, as +dogs, cats, mice, and other creatures certainly do. I don't say that +they have no other means of converse; but I am sure I am exact in +saying that they have no articulate speech.] + +They began to play very soon with a zest for mere irresponsible +movement which I have never seen in my own kind. I have seen young +foxes playing, and it was something like that, only incomparably more +graceful. Greyhounds give a better comparison where the rippling of +the body is more expressive of their speed than the flying of their +feet. These creatures must have touched the earth, but their bodies +also ran. And just as young dogs play for the sake of activity, +without method or purpose, so did these; and just as with young +animals the sexes mingle without any hint of sexuality, so did these. +If there was love-making I saw nothing of it there. They met on exact +equality so far as I could judge, the male not desirous, the female +not conscious of being desired. + +But it was a mad business under the cloudy moon. It had a dream-like +element of riot and wild triumph. I suppose I must have been there for +two or three hours, during all which time their swift play was never +altogether stopped. There were interludes to be seen, when some three +or four grew suddenly tired and fell out. They threw themselves down +on the sward and lay panting, beaming, watching the others, or they +disappeared into the dark and were lost in the thickets which dot the +ground. Then finally I saw the great whirling ring of them form--under +what common impulse to frenzy I cannot divine. There was no signal, +no preparation, but as if fired in unison they joined hands, and +spreading out to a circumference so wide that I could distinguish +nothing but a ring of light, they whirled faster and faster till the +speed of them sang in my ears like harps, and whirling so, melted +away. + +Later on and in wilder surroundings than this I saw, and shall relate +in its place, a dance of Oreads. It differed in detail from this one, +but not, I think, in any essential. This was my first experience of +the kind. + + + + +QUIDNUNC + + +I was so fired by that extraordinary adventure, that I think I could +have overcome my constitutional timidity and made myself acquainted +with the only actor in it who was accessible if I had not become +involved in another matter of the sort. But I don't know that I should +have helped myself thereby. To the night the things of the night +pertain. If I could have had speech with Mrs. Ventris in that season +of her radiancy there would have been no harm; but by day she was +another creature. Thereby contact was impossible because it would have +been horrible. It is true that a certain candour of conduct +distinguished her from the frowsy drabs with whom she must have +jostled in public-house bars or rubbed elbows at lodging-house doors, +a sort of unconsciousness of evil, which I take to have been due to an +entire absence of a moral sense. It is probable that she was not a +miserable sinner because she did not know what was miserable sin. Heat +and cold she knew, hunger and thirst, rage and kindness. She could not +be unwomanly because she was not woman, nor good because she could +not be bad. But I could have been very bad; and to me she was, +luckily, horrible. I could not divorce her two apparent natures, still +less my own. We are bound--all of us--by our natures, bound by them +and bounded. I could not have touched the pitch she lived with, the +pitch of which she was, without defilement. Let me hope that I +realised that much. I shall not say how my feet burned to enter that +slum of squalor where hovered this bird of the night, unless I add, as +I can do with truth, that I did not slake them there. I saw her on and +off afterward for a year, perhaps; but tenancies are short in London. +There was a flitting during one autumn when I was away on vacation, +and I came back to see new faces in the half-doorway and other elbows +on the familiar ledge. + +But as I have said above, a new affair engrossed me shortly after my +night pageant on Parliament Hill. This was concerned with a famous +personage whom all knowing London (though I for one had not known it) +called Quidnunc. + +But before I present to the curious reader the facts of a case which +caused so much commotion in distinguished bosoms of the late +"eighties," I think I should say that, while I have a strong +conviction as to the identity of the person himself, I shall not +express it. I accept the doctrine that there are some names not to be +uttered. Similarly I shall neither defend nor extenuate; if I throw it +out at all it will be as a hint to the judicious, or a clew, if you +like, to those who are groping a way in or out of the labyrinth of +Being. To me two things are especially absurd: one is that the +trousered, or skirted, forms we eat with, walk with, or pass unheeded, +are all the population of our world; the other, that these creatures, +ostensibly men or women with fancies, hopes, fears, appetites like our +own, are necessarily of the same nature as ourselves. If beings from +another sphere should, by intention or chance, meet and mingle with +us, I don't see how we could apprehend them at all except in our own +mode, or unless they were, so to speak, translated into our idiom. But +enough of that. The year in which I first met Quidnunc, so far as my +memory serves me, was 1886. + + * * * * * + +I was in those days a student of the law, with chambers in Gray's Inn +which I daily attended; but being more interested in palaeography than +in modern practice, and intending to make that my particular branch of +effort, I spent much of my time at the Public Record Office; indeed, a +portion of every working day. The track between R---- Buildings and +Rolls Yard must have been sensibly thinned by my foot-soles; there +can have been few of the frequenters of Chancery Lane, Bedford Row and +the squares of Gray's Inn who were not known to me by sight or +concerning whom I had not imagined (or discerned) circumstances +invisible to their friends or themselves to account for their acts or +appearances. Among these innumerable personages--portly solicitors, +dashing clerks, scriveners, racing tipsters, match-sellers, postmen, +young ladies of business, young ladies of pleasure, clients descending +out of broughams, clients keeping rendezvous in public-houses, and +what not--Quidnunc's may well have been one; but I believe that it was +in Warwick Court (that passage from Holborn into the Inn) that, quite +suddenly, I first saw him, or became aware that I saw him; for being, +as he was, to all appearance an ordinary telegraphic messenger, I may +have passed him daily for a year without any kind of notice. But on a +day in the early spring of 1886--mid-April at a guess--I came upon him +in such a way as to remark him incurably. I saw before me on that +morning of tender leafage, of pale sunlight and blue mist contending +for the day, a strangely assorted pair proceeding slowly toward the +Inn. A telegraph boy was one; by his side walked, vehemently +explaining, a tall, elderly solicitor--white-whiskered, drab-spatted, +frock-coated, eye-glassed, silk-hatted--in every detail the trusted +family lawyer. I knew the man by sight, and I knew him by name and +repute. He was, let me say--for I withhold his real name--George +Lumley Fowkes, of Fowkes, Vizard and Fowkes, respectable head of a +more than respectable firm; and here he was, with his hat pushed back +from his dewy forehead, tip-toeing, protesting, extenuating to a slip +of a lad in uniform. The positions of the odd pair were unaccountably +reversed; Jack was better than his master, the deference was from the +elder to the brat. The stoop of Fowkes's shoulder, the anxious angle +of his head, his care to listen to the little he got--and how little +that was I could not but observe--his frequent ejaculations of "God +bless my soul!" his deep concern--and the boy's unconcern, curtly +expressed, if expressed at all--all this was singular. So much more +than singular was it to myself that it enthralled me. + +They stopped at the gateway which admits you to Bedford Row to finish +their colloquy. The halt was made by Fowkes, barely acquiesced in by +his companion. Poor old Fowkes, what with his asthma, the mopping of +his head, the flacking of his long fingers, exhibited signals of the +highest distress. "I need hardly assure you, sir ..." I heard; and +then, "Believe me, sir, when I say...." He was marking time, unhappy +gentleman, for with such phrases does the orator eke out his waning +substance. The lad listened in a critical, staring mood, and once or +twice nodded. While I was wondering how long he was going to put up +with it, presently he jerked his head back and showed Fowkes, by the +look he gave him, that he had had enough of him. The old lawyer knew +it for final, for he straightened his back, then his hat, touched the +brim and made a formal bow. "I leave it so, sir," he said; "I am +content to leave it so;" and then, with every mark of respect, he went +his way into Bedford Row. I noticed that he walked on tiptoe for some +yards, and then more quickly, flapping his arms to his sides. + +The boy stood thoughtful where he was, communing by the looks of him +quite otherwhere, and I had the opportunity to consider him. He +appeared to be a handsome, well-built lad of fifteen or so, big for +his age, and precocious. By that I mean that his scrutiny of life was +mature; that he looked capable, far beyond the warrant of his years. +He was ruddy of complexion, freckled, and had a square chin. His eyes +were light grey, with dark lashes to them; they were startlingly light +and bright for such a sunburnt face, and seemed to glow in it like +steady fires. It was in them that resided, that sat, as it were, +enthroned, that mature, masterful expression which I never saw before +or since in one so young. I have seen the eyes of children look as if +they were searching through our world into another; that is almost +habitual in children. But here was one, apparently a boy, who seemed +to read into our circumstances (as you or I into a well-studied book) +as though they held nothing inexplicable, nothing unaccounted for. +Beyond these singular two eyes of his, his smiling mouth, with its +reminder of archaic statuary, was perhaps his only noticeable feature. +He wore the ordinary uniform of a telegraphic messenger, which in +those days was grey, with a red line down the trousers and a belt for +the tunic. His boots were of the service pattern, so were his +ankle-jacks. His hands were not cleaner than they ought to have been, +his nails well bitten back. Such was he. + +Studying him closely over the top of my newspaper, by-and-by he fixed +me with his intent, bright eyes. My heart beat quicker; but when he +smiled--like the Pallas of AEgina--I smiled too. Then, without varying +his expression, even while he smiled upon me, he vanished. + +Vanished! There's no other word for it: he vanished; I did not see him +go; I don't know whether he went or where he went. At one moment he +was there, smiling at me, looking into my eyes; at the next moment he +was not there. That's all there is to say about it. I flashed a +glance through the gate into Bedford Row, another up to R---- +Buildings, and even ran to the corner which showed me the length and +breadth of Field Place. He was not gone any of these ways. These +things are certain. + +Now for the sequel. Mere fortune led me at four that afternoon into +Bedford Row. A note had been put into my hands at the Record Office +inviting me to call upon a client whose chambers were in that quarter, +and I complied with it directly my work was over. Now as I walked +along the Row, the boy of that morning's encounter was going into the +entry of the house in which Fowkes and Vizards have their offices. I +had just time to recognise him when the double knock announced his +errand. I stopped immediately; he delivered in a telegram and came +out. I was on the step. Whether he knew me or not he did not look his +knowledge. His eyes went through me, his smiling mouth did not smile +at me. My heart beat, I didn't know why; but I laughed and nodded. He +went his leisurely way and I watched him, this time, almost out of +sight. But while I stood so, watching, old Fowkes came bursting out of +his office, tears streaming down his face, the telegram in his hand. +"Where is he? Where is he?" This was addressed to me. I pointed the +way. Old Fowkes saw his benefactor (as I suppose him to have been) +and began to run. The lad turned round, saw him coming, waved him +away, and then--disappeared. Again he had done it; but old Fowkes, in +no way surprised, stood rooted to the pavement with his hands extended +so far toward the mystery that I could see two or three inches of bony +old wrist beyond his shirt-cuffs. After a while he turned and slowly +came back to his chambers. He seemed now not to see me; or he was +careless whether I saw him or not. As he entered the doorway he held +up the telegram, bent his head and laid a kiss upon the pink paper. + +But that is by no means all. Now I come, to the Richborough story, +which all London that is as old as I am remembers. That part of +London, it may be, will not read this book; or if it does, will not +object to the recall of a case which absorbed it in 1886-87. I am not +going to be indiscreet. The lady married, and the lady left England. +Moreover, naturally, I give no names; but if I did I don't see that +there is anything to be ashamed of in what she was pleased to do with +her hand and person. It was startling to us of those days, it might be +startling in these; what was more than startling was the manner in +which the thing was done. That is known to very few persons indeed. + +I had seen enough upon that April day, whose events form my prelude, +to give me remembrance of the handsome telegraph boy. The next time I +saw him, which was near midnight in July--the place Hyde Park--I knew +him at once. + +I had been sharing in Prince's Gate, with a dull company, an +interminable dinner, one of those at which you eat twice as much as +you intend, or desire, because there is really nothing else to do. On +one side of me I had had a dowager whom I entirely failed to interest, +on the other, a young person who only cared to talk with her left-hand +neighbour. There was a reception afterward to which I had to stop, so +that I could not make my escape till eleven or more. The night was +very hot and it had been raining; but such air as there was was balm +after the still furnace of the rooms. I decided immediately to walk to +my lodging in Camden Town, entered by Prince's Gate, crossed the +Serpentine Bridge and took a bee-line for the Marble Arch. It was +cloudy, but not at all dark. I could see all the ankle-high railings +which beset the unwary passenger and may at any moment break his legs +and his nose, imperil his dignity and ruin his hat. Dimly ahead of me, +upon a broad stretch of grass, I presently became aware of a +concourse. There was no sound to go by, and the light afforded me no +definite forms; the luminous haze was blurred; but certainly people +were there, a multitude of people. I was surprised, but not alarmed. +Save for an occasional wastrel of civilisation, incapable of +degradation and concerned only for sleep, the park is wont to be a +desert at that hour; but the hum of the traffic, the flashing cab +lamps, never quite out of sight, prevent fear. Far from being afraid I +was highly interested, and hastening my steps was soon on the +outskirts of a throng. + +A throng it certainly was, a large body of persons, male and female, +scattered yet held together by a common interest, loitering and +expectant, strangely silent, not concerned with each other, rarely in +couples, with all their faces turned one way--namely, to the +south-east, or (if you want precision) precisely to Hyde Park Corner. +I have remarked upon the silence: that was really surprising; so also +was the order observed, and what you may call decorum. There was no +ribaldry, no skylarking, no shrill discord of laughter without mirth +in it to break the solemnity of the gracious night. These people just +stood or squatted about; if any talked together it was in secret +whispers. It is true that they were under the watch of a tall +policeman; yet he too, I noticed, watched nobody, but looked steadily +to the south-east, with his lantern harmless at his belt. As my eyes +grew used to the gloom I observed that all ranks composed the +company. I made out the shell jacket, the waist and elongated limbs of +a life-guardsman, the open bosom of an able seaman. I happened upon a +young gentleman in the crush hat and Inverness of the current fashion; +I made certain of a woman of the pavement and of ladies of the +boudoir, of a hospital nurse, of a Greenwich pensioner, of two +flower-girls sitting on the edge of one basket, of a shoeblack (I +think), of a costermonger, and a nun. Others there were, and more than +one or two of most categories: in a word, there was an assembly. + +I accosted the policeman, who heard me civilly but without committing +himself. To my first question, what was going to happen? he carefully +answered that he couldn't say, but to my second, with the +irrepressible scorn of one who knows for one who wants to know, he +answered more frankly, "Who are they waiting for? Why, Quidnunc. +Mister Quidnunc. That's who it is. Him they call Quidnunc. So now you +know." In fact, I did not know. He had told me nothing, would tell me +no more, and while I stood pondering the oracle I was sensible of some +common movement run through the company with a thrill, unite them, +intensify them, draw them together to be one people with one faith, +one hope, one assurance. And then the nun, who stood near me, fell to +her knees, crossed herself and began to pray; and not far off her a +slim girl in black turned aside and covered her face with her hands. A +perceptible shiver of emotion, a fluttering sigh such as steals over a +pine-wood toward dawn ran through all ranks. Far to the south-east a +speck of light now showed, which grew in intensity as it came swiftly +nearer, and seemed presently to be a ball of vivid fire surrounded by +a shroud of lit vapour. Again, as by a common consent, the crowd +parted, stood ranked, with an open lane between. The on-coming flare, +grown intolerably bright, now seemed to fade out as it resolved itself +into a human figure. A human figure at the entry of the lane of people +there undoubtedly was, a figure with so much light about him, raying +(I thought) from him, that it was easy to observe his form and +features. Out of the flame and radiant mist he grew, and showed +himself to me in the trim shape and semblance, with the small head and +alert air of a youth; and such as he was, in the belted tunic and +peaked cap of a telegraph messenger, he came smoothly down the lane +formed by the obsequious throng, and stood in the midst of it and +looked keenly, with his cold, clear eyes and fixed and inscrutable +smile, from one expectant face to another. There was no mistaking him +whom all those people so eagerly awaited; he was my former wonder of +Gray's Inn, the saviour of old Mr. Fowkes. + +But all my former wonder paled before this my latter. For he stood +here like some young Eastern king among his slaves, one hand on his +hip, the other at his chin, his face expressionless, his eyes fixed +but unblinking. Meantime, the crowd, which had stretched out arms to +him as he came, was now seated quietly on the grass, intently waiting, +watching for a sign. They sat, all those people, in a wide ring about +him; he was in the midst, a hand to his chin. + +Whether sign was made or not, I saw none; but after some moments of +pause a figure rose erect out of the ring and hobbled toward the boy. +I made out an old woman, an old wreck of womanhood, a scant-haired, +blue-lipped ruin of what had once been woman. I heard her snivel and +sniff and wheeze her "Lord ha' mercy" as she went by, slippering +forward on her miserable feet, hugging to her wasted sides what +remnant of gown she had, fawning before the boy, within the sphere of +light that came from him. If he loathed, or scorned, or pitied her, he +showed no sign; if he saw her at all his fixed eyes looked beyond her; +if he abhorred her, his nostrils did not betray him. He stood like +marble and suffered what followed. It was strange. + +Enacting what seemed to be a proper rite, she put her shaking left +hand upon his right shoulder, her right hand under his chin, as if to +cup it; and then, with sniffs and wailings interspersed, came her +petition to his merciful ears. + +What she precisely asked of him, muttering, wheezing, whining, +snivelling, as she did, repeating herself--with her burthen of "O +dear, O dear, O dear!"--I don't know. Her lost girl, her fine +up-standing girl, her Nance, her only one, figured in it as needing +mercy. Her "Oh, sir, I ask you kindly!" and "Oh, sir, for this once ...!" +made me sick: yet he bore with her as she ran on, dribbling +tears and gin in a mingled flood; he bore with her, heard her in +silence, and in the end, by a look which I was not able to discover, +quieted and sent her shuffling back to her place. So soon as she was +down, the life-guardsman was on his feet, a fine figure of a man. He +marched unfalteringly up, stiffened, saluted, and then, observing the +ritual of hand to shoulder, hand to chin, spoke out his piece like the +honest fellow he was; spoke it aloud and without fear, evenly and +plainly. I thought that he had got it by heart, as I thought also of +another person I was to hear by-and-by. He wanted, badly it seemed, +news of his sweetheart, whom he was careful to call Miss Dixon. She +had last been heard of outside the Brixton Bon Marche, where she had +been seen with a lady friend, talking to "two young chaps" in +Volunteer uniform. They went up the Brixton Road toward Acre Lane, and +Miss Dixon, at any rate, was never heard of again. It was wearing him +out; he wasn't the man he had been, and had no zest for his meals. She +had never written; his letters to her had come back through the "Dead +Office." He thought he should go out of his mind sometimes; was afraid +to shave, not knowing what he might be after with "them things." If +anything could be done for him he should be thankful. Miss Dixon was +very well connected, and sang in a choir. Here he stopped, saluted, +turned and marched away into the night. I heard him pass a word or two +to the policeman, who turned aside and blew his nose. The hospital +nurse, who spoke in a feverish whisper, then a young woman from the +Piccadilly gas-lamps, who cried and rocked herself about, followed; +and then, to my extreme amazement, two ladies with cloaks and hoods +over evening gowns--one of them a Mrs. Stanhope, who was known to me. +The taller and younger lady, chaperoned by my friend, I did not +recognise. Her face was hidden by her hood. + +I was now more than interested, it seemed to me that I was, in a +sense, implicated. At any rate I felt very delicate about overhearing +what was to come. It is one thing to become absorbed in a ritual the +like of which, in mid-London, you can never have experienced before, +but quite another thing to listen to the secret desires of a friend in +whose house you may have dined within the month. However--by whatever +casuistries I might have compassed it--I did remain. Let me hope, nay, +let me believe of myself that if the postulant had proved to be my +friend, Mrs. Shrewton Stanhope, herself, I should either have stopped +my ears or immediately retired. + +But Mrs. Stanhope, I saw at once, was no more than _dame de +compagnie_. She stood in mid-ring with bent head and hands clasped +before her while the graceful, hooded girl approached nearer to the +mysterious oracle and fulfilled the formal rites demanded of all who +sought his help. Her ringed left hand was laid upon his right +shoulder, her fair right hand upheld his chin. When she began to +speak, which she did immediately and without a tremor, again I had the +sensation of hearing one who had words by heart. This was her burden, +more or less. "I am very unhappy about a certain person. It is Captain +Maxfield. I am engaged to him, and want to break it off. I must do +that--I must indeed. If I don't I shall do a more dreadful thing. I do +hope you will help me. Mrs. ----, my friend, was sure that you would. I +do hope so. I am very unhappy." She had commanded her voice until the +very end; but as she pitied herself there came a break in it. I heard +her catch her breath; I thought she would fall,--and so did Mrs. +Stanhope, it was clear, for she went hurriedly forward and put an arm +round her waist. The younger lady drooped to her shoulder; Mrs. +Stanhope inclined her head to the person--not a sign from him, mind +you--and gently withdrew her charge from the ring. The pair then +hurried across the park in the direction of Knightsbridge, and left +me, I may admit, consuming in the fire of curiosity and excitement +which they had lit. + +Petitions succeeded, of various interest, but they seemed pale and +ineffectual to me. Before all or nearly all of the waiting throng had +been heard I saw uneasiness spread about it. Face turned to face, head +to head; subtle but unmistakable movements indicated unrest. Then, of +the suddenest, amid lifted hands and sighed-forth prayers the youthful +object of so much entreaty, receiver of so many secret sorrows, seemed +to fade and, without effort, to recede. I know not how else to +describe his departure. He backed away, as it were, into the dark. The +people were on their feet ere this. Sighs, wailing, appeals, sobs, +adjurations broke the quietness of the night. Some ran stumbling after +him with extended arms; most of them stayed where they were, watching +him fade, hoping against hope. He emptied himself, so to speak, of +light; he faded backward, diminishing himself to a luminous glow, to a +blur, to a point of light. Thus he was gone. The disappointed crept +silently away, each into silence, solitude and the night, and I found +myself alone with the policeman. + +Now, what in the name of God was all this? I asked him, and must have +it. He gave me some particulars, admitting at the outset that it was a +"go." "They seem to think," he said, "that they will get what they +want out of him--by wire. Let him bring them a wire in the morning; +that's the way of it. Anything in life, from sudden death to a +penn'orth of bird-seed. Death! Ah, I've heard 'em cringe to him for +death, times and again. They crawl for it--they must have it. Can't do +it theirselves, d'ye see? No, no. Let him do it--somehow. Once a week, +during the season--his season, I should say, because he ain't here +always, by no means--they gets about like this; and how they know +where to spot him is more than I can tell you. If I knew it, I +would--but I don't. Nobody knows that--and yet they know it. Sometimes +he's to be found here two weeks running; then it'll be the Regent's +Park, or the Knoll in the Green Park. He's had 'em all the way to +Hampstead before now, and Primrose Hill's a likely place, they tell +me. Telegrams: that's what he gives 'em--if he's got the mind. But +they don't get all they want, not by no means. And some of 'em gets +more than they want, by a lot." He thought, then chuckled at a rather +grim instance. + +"Why, there was old Jack Withers, 'blue-nosed Jack' they calls him, +who works a Hammersmith 'bus! Did you ever hear of that? That was a +good one, if you like. Now you listen. This Jack was coming up the +Brompton Road on his 'bus--and I was on duty by the Boltons and see +him coming. There was that young feller there too--him we've just had +here--standing quiet by a pillar-box, reading a letter. One foot he +had in the roadway, and his back to the 'bus. Up comes old Jack, +pushing his horses, and sees the boy. Gives a great howl like a +tom-cat. 'Hi! you young frog-spawn,' he says, 'out of my road,' and +startled the lad. I see him look up at Jack very steady, and keep his +eye on him. I thought to myself, 'There's something to pay on +delivery, my boy, for this here.' Jack owned up to it afterwards that +he felt queer, but he forgot about it. Now, if you'll believe me, sir, +the very next morning Jack was at London Bridge after his second +journey, when up comes this boy, sauntering into the yard. Comes up to +Jack and nods. 'Name of Withers?' he says. 'That's me,' says old Jack. +'Thought so,' he says. 'Telegram for you.' Jack takes it, opens it, +goes all white. 'Good God!' he says; 'good God Almighty! My wife's +dead!' She'd been knocked down by a Pickford that morning, sure as a +gun. What do you think of that for a start? + +"He served Spotty Smith the fried-eel man just the very same, and lots +more I could tell you about. They call him Quidnunc--Mister Quidnunc, +too, and don't you forget it. There's that about him I--well, sir, if +it was to come to it that I had to lay a hand on him for something out +of Queer Street I shouldn't know how to do it. Now I'm telling you a +fact. I shouldn't--know--how--to--do it." + +He was not, obviously, telling me a fact, but certainly he was much in +earnest. I commented upon the diversity of the company, and so learned +the name of my friend Mrs. Stanhope's friend. He clacked his tongue. +"Bless you," he said, "I've seen better than to-night, though we did +have a slap-up ladyship and all. That was Lady Emily Rich, that young +thing was, Earl of Richborough's family--Grosvenor Place. But we had a +Duchess or something here one night--ah, and a Bishop another, a Lord +Bishop. You'd never believe the tales we hear. He's known to every +night-constable from Woolwich to Putney Bridge--and the company he +gets about him you'd never believe. High and low, and all huddled +together like so many babes in a nursing-home. No distinction. You saw +old Mother Misery get first look-in to-night? My lady waited her turn, +like a good girl!" His voice sank to a whisper. "They tell me he's the +only living soul--if he _is_ a living soul--that's ever been inside +the Stock Exchange and come out tidy. He goes and comes in as he +likes--quite the Little Stranger. They all know him in Throgmorton +Street. No, no. There's more in this than meets the eye, sir. He's not +like you and me. But it's no business of mine. He don't go down in my +pocket-book, I can tell you. I keep out of his way--and with reason. +He never did no harm to me, nor shan't if I can help it. Quidnunc! +Mister Quidnunc! He might be a herald angel for all I know." + +I went my way home and to bed, but was not done with Quidnunc. + +The next day, which was the first day of the Eton and Harrow Match, I +read a short paragraph in the _Echo_, headed "Painful Scene at +Lord's," to the effect that a lady lunching on Lord Richborough's drag +had fainted upon the receipt of a telegram, and would have fallen had +she not been caught by the messenger--"a strongly built youth," it +said, "who thus saved what might have been a serious accident." That +was all, but it gave me food for thought, and a suspicion which +Saturday confirmed in a sufficiently startling way. On that Saturday I +was at luncheon in the First Avenue Hotel in Holborn, when a man came +in--Tendring by name--whom I knew quite well. We exchanged greetings +and sat at our luncheon, talking desultorily. A clerk from his office +brought in a telegram for Tendring. He opened it and seemed +thunder-struck. "Good Lord!" I heard him say. "Good Lord, here's +trouble." I murmured sympathetically, and then he turned to me, quite +beyond the range where reticence avails. "Look here," he said, "this +is a shocking business. A man I know wires to me--from Bow Street. +He's been taken for forgery--that's the charge--and wants me to bail +him out." He got up as we finished and went to write his reply: I +turned immediately to the clerk. "Is the boy waiting?" I asked. He +was. I said "Excuse me, Tendring," and ran out of the restaurant to +the street door. There in the street, as I had suspected, stood my +inscrutable, steady-eyed, smiling Oracle of the night. I stood, +meeting his look as best I might. He showed no recognition of me +whatsoever. Then, as I stood there, Tendring came out. "Call me a +cab," he told the hall-porter; and to Quidnunc he said, "There's no +answer. I'm going at once." Quidnunc went away. + +Now Tendring's friend, I learned by the evening paper, was one Captain +Maxfield of the Royal Engineers. He was committed for trial, bail +refused. I may add that he got seven years. + +So much for Captain Maxfield! But much more for Lady Emily Rich, of +whose fate I have now to tell. My friend, Mrs. Shrewton Stanhope, was +very reserved, would tell me nothing, even when I roundly said that I +had fancied to see her in the park one evening. She had the hardihood +to meet my eyes with a blank denial, and very plainly there was +nothing to be learned from her. A visit, many visits to the London +parks at the hour between eleven and midnight taught me no more; but +being by now thoroughly interested in the affairs of Lady Emily Rich I +made it my business to get a glimpse of her. She was, it seemed, the +only unmarried daughter of the large Richborough family which had done +so well in that sex, and so badly in the other that there was not only +no son, but no male heir to the title. That, indeed, expired with Lady +Emily's father. I don't really know how many daughters there were, or +were not. Most of them married prosperously. One of them became a +Roman princess; one married a Mr. Walker, an American stock-jobber +(with a couple of millions of money); another was Baroness de +Grass--De Grass being a Jew; one became an Anglican nun to the +disgust (I was told) of her family. Lady Emily, whose engagement to +the wretched Maxfield was so dramatically terminated was, I think, the +youngest of them. I saw her one night toward the end of the season at +the Opera. Tendring, who was with me, pointed her out in a box. She +was dressed in black and looked very scared. She hardly moved once +throughout the evening, and when people spoke to her seemed not to +hear. She was certainly a very pretty girl. It may have been fancy, or +it may not, but I could have sworn to the corner of a pinky-brown +envelope sticking out of the bosom of her dress. I don't think I was +mistaken; I had a good look through the glasses. She touched it +shortly afterward and poked it down. At the end I saw her come out. A +tall girl, rather thin; very pretty certainly, but far from well. Her +eyes haunted me; they had what is called a hag-ridden look. And yet, +thought I, she had got her desire of Quidnunc. Ah, but had she? Hear +the end of the tale. + +I say that I saw her come out, that's not quite true. I saw her come +down the staircase and stand with her party in the crowded lobby. She +stood in it, but not of it; for her vague and shadowed eyes sought +otherwhere than in those of the neat-haired young man who was +chattering in front of her. She scanned, rather, the throng of people +anxiously and guardedly at once, as if she was looking for somebody, +and must not be seen to look. As time wore on and the carriage +delayed, her nervousness increased. She seemed to get paler, she shut +her eyes once or twice as though to relieve the strain which watching +and waiting put upon them, and then, quite suddenly, I saw that she +had found what she expected; I saw that her empty eyes were now +filled, that they held something without which they had faded out. In +a word, I saw her look fixedly, fiercely and certainly at something +beyond the lobby. Following the direction she gave me, I looked also. +There, assuredly, in the portico, square, smiling and assured of his +will, I saw Quidnunc stand, and his light eyes upon hers. For quite a +space of time, such as that in which you might count fifteen +deliberately, those two looked at each other. Messages, I am sure, +sped to and fro between them. His seemed to say, "Come, I have +answered you. Now do you answer me." Hers cried her hurt, "Ah, but +what can I do?" His, with their cool mastery of time and occasion, +"You must do as I bid you. There's no other way." Hers pleaded, "Give +me time," and his told her sternly, "I am master of time--since I made +it." The throng of waiting people began to surge toward the door; out +there in the night link-boys yelled great names. I heard "Lord +Richborough's carriage," and saw Lady Emily clap her hand to her side. +I saw her reach the portico and stand there hastily covering her head +with a black scarf; I saw her sway alone there. I saw her party go +down the steps. The next moment Quidnunc flashed to her side. He said +nothing, he did not touch her. He simply looked at her--intently, +smiling, self-possessed, a master. Her face was averted; I could see +her tremble; she bowed her head. Another carriage was announced--the +Richborough coach then was gone. I saw Quidnunc now put his hand upon +her arm; she turned him her face, a faint and tender smile, very +beautiful and touching, met his own. He drew her with him out of the +press and into the burning dark. London never saw her again. + +I don't attempt to explain what is to me inexplicable. Was my +policeman right when he called Quidnunc a herald angel? Is there any +substance behind the surmise that the ancient gods still sway the +souls and bodies of men? Was Quidnunc, that swift, remorseless, +smiling messenger, that god of the winged feet? The Argeiphont? Who +can answer these things? All I have to tell you by way of an epilogue +is this. + +A curate of my acquaintance, a curate of St. Peter's, Eaton Square, +some few years after these events, took his holiday in Greece. He +went out as one of a tourist party, but having more time at his +disposal than was contemplated by the contracting agency, he stayed +on, chartered a dragoman and wandered far and wide. On his return he +told me that he had seen Lady Emily Rich at Pherae in Arcadia, and that +he had spoken to her. He had seen her sitting on the door-step of a +one-storied white house, spinning flax. She wore the costume of the +peasants, which he told me is very picturesque. Two or three +half-naked children tumbled about her. They were beautiful as angels, +he said, with curly golden hair and extremely light eyes. He noticed +that particularly, and recurred to it more than once. Now Lady Emily +was a dark girl, with eyes so deeply blue as to be almost black. + +My friend spoke to her, he said. He had seen that she recognised him; +in fact, she bowed to him. He felt that he could not disregard her. +Mere commonplaces were exchanged. She told him that her husband was +away on a journey. She fancied that he had been in England; but she +explained half-laughingly that she knew very little about his affairs, +and was quite content to leave them to him. She had her children to +look after. My friend was surprised that she asked no question of +England or family matters; but, in the circumstances, he added, he +hardly liked to refer to them. She served him with bread and wine +before he left her. All he could say was that she appeared to be +perfectly happy. + +It is odd, and perhaps it is more than odd, that there was a famous +temple of Hermes in Pherae in former times. Pindar, I believe, +acclaimed it in one of his Epinikean odes; but I have not been able to +verify the reference. + + + + +THE SECRET COMMONWEALTH + + +The interest of my matter has caused me to lose sight of myself and to +fail in my account of the flight of time over my head. That is, +however, comparable with the facts, which were that my attention was +then become solely objective. I had other things to think of than the +development of my own nature. I had other things to think of, indeed, +than those which surround us all, and press upon us until we become +permanently printed by their contact. Solitary as I had ever been in +mind, I now became literally so by choice. I became wholly absorbed in +that circumambient world of being which was graciously opening itself +to my perceptions--how I knew not. I was in a state of momentary +expectation of apparitions; as I went about my ostensible business I +had my ears quick and my eyes wide for signs and tokens that I was +surrounded by a seething and whirling invisible population of beings, +like ourselves, but glorified: yet unlike ourselves in this, that what +seemed entirely right, because natural, to them would have been in +ourselves horrible. The ruthlessness, for instance, of Quidnunc as he +pursued and obtained his desire, had Quidnunc been a human creature, +would have been revolting; the shamelessness of the fairy wife of +Ventris had she been capable of shame, how shameful had that been! But +I knew that these creatures were not human; I knew that they were not +under our law; and so I explained everything to myself. But to myself +only. It is not enough to explain a circumstance by negatives. If +Quidnunc and Mrs. Ventris were not under our law, neither are the sun, +moon and stars, neither are the apes and peacocks. But all these are +under some law, since law is the essence of the Kosmos. Under what law +then were Mrs. Ventris and Quidnunc? I burned to know that. For many +years of my life that knowledge was my steady desire; but I had no +means at hand of satisfying it. Reading? Well, I did read in a +fashion. I read, for example, Grimm's _Teutonic Mythology_, a stout +and exceedingly dull work in three volumes of a most unsatisfying +kind. I read other books of the same sort, chiefly German, dealing in +etymology, which I readily allow is a science of great value within +its proper sphere. But to Grimm and his colleagues etymology seemed to +me to be the contents of the casket rather than the key; for Grimm and +his colleagues started with a prejudice, that Gods, fairies and the +rest have never existed and don't exist. To them the interest of the +inquiry is not what is the nature, what are the laws of such beings, +but what is the nature of the primitive people who imagined the +existence of such beings? I very soon found out that Grimm and his +colleagues had nothing to tell me. + +Then there was another class of book; that which dealt in demonology +and witchcraft, exemplified by a famous work called _Satan's Invisible +World Discovered_. Writers of these things may or may not have +believed in witches and fairies (which they classed together); but in +any event they believed them to be wicked, the abomination of +uncleanness. That made them false witnesses. My judgment revolted +against such ridiculous assumptions. Here was a case, you see, where +writers treated their subject too seriously, having the pulpit-cushion +ever below their hand, and the fear of the Ordinary before their +eyes.[3] Grimm and his friends, on the other hand, took it too +lightly, seeing in it matter for a treatise on language. I got no good +out of either school, and as time goes on I don't see a prospect of +any adequate handling of the theme. I should like to think that I +myself was to be the man to expound the fairy-kind candidly and +methodically--candidly, that is, without going to literature for my +data, and with the notion definitely out of mind that the fairy +God-mother ever existed. But I shall never be that man, for though I +am candid to the point of weakness, I am not to flatter myself that I +have method. But to whomsoever he may be that undertakes the subject I +can promise that the documents await their historian, and I will +furnish him with a title which will indicate at a glance both the +spirit of his attack and the nature of his treatise. + +[Footnote 3: The Reverend Robert Kirk, author of the _Secret +Commonwealth_, was a clergyman and a believer in the beings of whom +his book professed to treat. He found them a place in his Pantheon; +but he knew very little about them. I shall have to speak of him again +I expect. He is himself an object-lesson, though his teachings are +naught.] + +"The Natural History of the Praeternatural" it should be. I make him a +present of that--the only possible line for a sincere student. God go +with him whosoever he be, for he will have rare qualities and rare +need of them. He must be cheerful without assumption, respectful +without tragic airs, as respectable as he please in the eyes of his +own law, so that he finds respect in his heart also for the laws of +the realm in which he is privileged to trade. Let him not stand, as +the priest in the Orthodox Church, a looming hierophant. Let him avoid +any rhetorical pose, any hint of the grand manner. Above all, let him +not wear the smirk of the conjuror when he prepares with flourishes to +whip the handkerchief away from his guinea-pig. Here is one who +condescends to reader and subject alike. He would do harm all round: +moreover he would be a quack, for he is just as much of a quack who +makes little of much as he who makes much of little. No! Let his +attitude be that of the contadino in some vast church in Italy, who +walking into the cool dark gazes round-eyed at the twinkling candles +ahead of him in the vague, and that he may recover himself a little +leans against a pillar for a while, his hat against his heart and his +lips muttering an Ave. Reassured by his prayer, or the peace of the +great place, he presently espies the sacristan about to uncover a +picture not often shown. Here is an occasion! The tourists are +gathered, intent upon their Baedekers; he tiptoes up behind them and +kneels by another pillar--for the pillars of a church are his friendly +rocks, touching which he can face the unknown. The curtain is brailed +up, and the blue and crimson, the mournful eyes, the wimple, the +pointed chin, the long idle fingers are revealed upon their golden +background. While the girls flock about papa with his book, and mamma +wonders where we shall have luncheon, Annibale, assured familiar of +Heaven, beatified at no expense to himself, settles down to a quiet +talk with the Mother of God. His attitude is perfect, and so is hers. +The firmament is not to be shaken, but Annibale is not a _farceur_, +nor his Blessed One absurd. Mysteries are all about us. Some are for +the eschatologist and some for the shepherd; some for Patmos and some +for the _podere_. Let our historian remember, in fact, that the +natures into which he invites us to pry are those of the little +divinities of earth and he can't go very far wrong. Nor can we. + +That, I am bold to confess, is my own attitude toward a lovely order +of creation. Perhaps I may go on to give him certain hints of +treatment. Nearly all of them, I think, tend to the same point--the +discarding of literature. Literature, being a man's art, is at its +best and also at its worst, in its dealing with women. No man, +perhaps, is capable of writing of women as they really are, though +every man thinks he is. A curious consequence to the history of +fairies has been that literature has recognised no males in that +community, and that of the females it has described it has selected +only those who are enamoured of men or disinclined to them. The fact, +of course, is that the fairy world is peopled very much as our own, +and that, with great respect to Shakespeare, an Ariel, a Puck, a +Titania, a Peas-blossom are abnormal. It is as rare to find a fairy +capable of discerning man as the converse is rare. I have known a +person intensely aware of the Spirits that reside, for instance, in +flowers, in the wind, in rivers and hills, none the less bereft of +any intercourse whatever with these interesting beings by the simple +fact that they themselves were perfectly unconscious of him. It is +greatly to be doubted whether Shakespeare ever saw a fairy, though his +age believed in fairies, but almost certain that Shelley must have +seen many, whose age did not believe. If our author is to have a +poetical guide at all it had better be Shelley. + +Literature will tell him that fairies are benevolent or mischievous, +and tradition, borrowing from literature, will confirm it. The +proposition is ridiculous. It would be as wise to say that a gnat is +mischievous when it stings you, or a bee benevolent because he cannot +prevent you stealing his honey. There would be less talk of benevolent +bees if the gloves were off. That is the pathetic fallacy again; and +that is man all over. Will nothing, I wonder, convince him that he is +not the centre of the Universe? If Darwin, Newton, Galileo, Copernicus +and Sir Norman Lockyer have failed, is it my turn to try? Modesty +forbids. Besides, I am prejudiced. I think man, in the conduct of his +business, inferior to any vegetable. I am a tainted source. But such +talk is idle, and so is that which cries havoc upon fairy morality. +Heaven knows that it differs from our own; but Heaven also knows that +our own differs _inter nos_; and that to discuss the customs and +habits of the Japanese in British parlours is a vain thing. _The +Forsaken Merman_ is a beautiful poem, but not a safe guide to those +who would relate the ways of the spirits of the sea. But all this is +leading me too far from my present affair, which is to relate how the +knowledge of these things--of these beings and of their laws--came +upon me, and how their nature influenced mine. I have said enough, I +think, to establish the necessity of a good book upon the subject, and +I take leave to flatter myself that these pages of my own will be +indispensable Prolegomena to any such work, or to any research tending +to its compilation. + +In the absence of books, in the situation in which I found myself of +reticence, I could do nothing but brood upon the things I had seen. +Insensibly my imagination (latent while I had been occupied with +observation) began to work. I did not write, but I pictured, and my +waking dreams became so vivid that I was in a fair way to treat them +as the only reality, and might have discarded the workaday world +altogether. Luckily for me, my disposition was tractable and +law-abiding. I fulfilled by habit the duties of the day; I toiled at +my dreary work, ate and slept, wrote to my parents, visited them, +having got those tasks as it were by heart, but I went through the +rites like an automaton; my mind was elsewhere, intensely dogging the +heels of that winged steed, my fancy, panting in its tracks, and +perfectly content so only that it did not come up too late to witness +the glories which its bold flights discovered. Thanks to it--all +thanks to it--I did not become a nympholept. I did not haunt +Parliament Hill o' nights. I did not spy upon the darkling motions of +Mrs. Ventris. Desire, appetite, sex were not involved at all in this +affair; nor yet was love. I was very prone to love, but I did not love +Mrs. Ventris. In whatsoever fairy being I had seen there had been +nothing which held physical attraction for me. There could be no +allure when there was no lure. So far as I could tell, not one of +these creatures--except Quidnunc, and possibly the Dryad, the sun-dyed +nymph I had seen long ago in K---- Park--had been aware of my +presence. I guessed, though I did not know (as I do now) that +manifestation is not always mutual, but that a man may see a fairy +without being seen, and conversely, a fairy may be fully aware of +mankind or of some man or men without any suspicion of theirs. +Moreover, though I saw them all extraordinarily beautiful, I had never +yet seen one supremely desirable. The instinct to possess, which is an +essential part of the love-passion of every man--had never stirred in +me in the presence of these creatures. If it had I should have +yielded to it, I doubt not, since there was no moral law to hold me +back. But it never had, so far, and I was safe from the wasting misery +of seeking that which could not, from its very nature (and mine) be +sought. + +There was really nothing I could do, therefore, but wait, and that is +what I did. I waited intensely, very much as a terrier waits at the +hole of the bolting rabbit. By the merest accident I got a clew to a +very interesting case which added enormously to my knowledge. It was a +clear case of fairy child-theft, the clearest I ever met with. I shall +devote a chapter to it, having been at the pains to verify it in all +particulars. I did not succeed in meeting the hero, or victim of it, +because, though the events related took place in 1887, they were not +recorded until 1892, when the record came into my hands. By that time +the two persons concerned had left the country and were settled in +Florida. I did see Mr. Walsh, the Nonconformist Minister who +communicated the tale to his local society, but he was both a dull and +a cautious man, and had very little to tell me. He had himself seen +nothing, he only had Beckwith's word to go upon and did not feel +certain that the whole affair was not an hallucination on the young +man's part. That the child had disappeared was certain, that both +parents were equally distressed is certain. Not a shred of suspicion +attached to the unhappy Beckwith. But Mr. Walsh told me that he felt +the loss so keenly and blamed himself so severely, though +unreasonably, to my thinking, that it would have been impossible for +him to remain in England. He said that the full statement communicated +to the Field Club was considered by the young man in the light of a +confession of his share in the tragedy. It would, he said, have been +exorbitant to expect more of him. And I quite agree with him; and now +had better give the story as I found it. + + + + +BECKWITH'S CASE + + +The facts were as follows. Mr. Stephen Mortimer Beckwith was a young +man living at Wishford in the Amesbury district of Wiltshire. He was a +clerk in the Wilts and Dorset Bank at Salisbury, was married and had +one child. His age at the time of the experience here related was +twenty-eight. His health was excellent. + +On the 30th November, 1887, at about ten o'clock at night, he was +returning home from Amesbury where he had been spending the evening at +a friend's house. The weather was mild, with a rain-bearing wind +blowing in squalls from the south-west. It was three-quarter moon that +night, and although the sky was frequently overcast it was at no time +dark. Mr. Beckwith, who was riding a bicycle and accompanied by his +fox-terrier Strap, states that he had no difficulty in seeing and +avoiding the stones cast down at intervals by the road-menders; that +flocks of sheep in the hollows were very visible, and that, passing +Wilsford House, he saw a barn owl quite plainly and remarked its +heavy, uneven flight. + +A mile beyond Wilsford House, Strap, the dog, broke through the +quick-set hedge upon his right-hand side and ran yelping up the down, +which rises sharply just there. Mr. Beckwith, who imagined that he was +after a hare, whistled him in, presently calling him sharply, "Strap, +Strap, come out of it." The dog took no notice, but ran directly to a +clump of gorse and bramble half-way up the down, and stood there in +the attitude of a pointer, with uplifted paw, watching the gorse +intently, and whining. Mr. Beckwith was by this time dismounted, +observing the dog. He watched him for some minutes from the road. The +moon was bright, the sky at the moment free from cloud. + +He himself could see nothing in the gorse, though the dog was +undoubtedly in a high state of excitement. It made frequent rushes +forward, but stopped short of the object that it saw and trembled. It +did not bark outright but rather whimpered--"a curious, shuddering, +crying noise," says Mr. Beckwith. Interested by the animal's +persistent and singular behaviour, he now sought a gap in the hedge, +went through on to the down, and approached the clumped bushes. Strap +was so much occupied that he barely noticed his master's coming; it +seemed as if he dared not take his eyes for one second from what he +saw in there. + +Beckwith, standing behind the dog, looked into the gorse. From the +distance at which he still stood he could see nothing at all. His +belief then was that there was either a tramp in a drunken sleep, +possibly two tramps, or a hare caught in a wire, or possibly even a +fox. Having no stick with him he did not care, at first, to go any +nearer, and contented himself with urging on his terrier. This was not +very courageous of him, as he admits, and was quite unsuccessful. No +verbal excitations would draw Strap nearer to the furze-bush. Finally +the dog threw up his head, showed his master the white arcs of his +eyes and fairly howled at the moon. At this dismal sound Mr. Beckwith +owned himself alarmed. It was, as he describes it--though he is an +Englishman--"uncanny." The time, he owns, the aspect of the night, +loneliness of the spot (midway up the steep slope of a chalk down), +the mysterious shroud of darkness upon shadowed and distant objects +and flood of white light upon the foreground--all these circumstances +worked upon his imagination. + +He was indeed for retreat; but here Strap was of a different mind. +Nothing would excite him to advance, but nothing either could induce +him to retire. Whatever he saw in the furze-bush Strap must continue +to observe. In the face of this Beckwith summoned up his courage, took +it in both hands and went much nearer to the furze-bushes, much +nearer, that is, than Strap the terrier could bring himself to go. +Then, he tells us, he did see a pair of bright eyes far in the +thicket, which seemed to be fixed upon his, and by degrees also a pale +and troubled face. Here, then, was neither fox nor drunken tramp, but +some human creature, man, woman, or child, fully aware of him and of +the dog. + +Beckwith, who now had surer command of his feelings, spoke aloud +asking, "What are you doing there? What's the matter?" He had no +reply. He went one pace nearer, being still on his guard, and spoke +again. "I won't hurt you," he said. "Tell me what the matter is." The +eyes remained unwinkingly fixed upon his own. No movement of the +features could be discerned. The face, as he could now make it out, +was very small--"about as big as a big wax doll's," he says, "of a +longish oval, very pale." He adds, "I could see its neck now, no +thicker than my wrist; and where its clothes began. I couldn't see any +arms, for a good reason. I found out afterward that they had been +bound behind its back. I should have said immediately, 'That's a girl +in there,' if it had not been for one or two plain considerations. It +had not the size of what we call a girl, nor the face of what we mean +by a child. It was, in fact, neither fish, flesh, nor fowl. Strap had +known that from the beginning, and now I was of Strap's opinion +myself." + +Advancing with care, a step at a time, Beckwith presently found +himself within touching distance of the creature. He was now standing +with furze half-way up his calves, right above it, stooping to look +closely at it; and as he stooped and moved, now this way, now that, to +get a clearer view, so the crouching thing's eyes gazed up to meet +his, and followed them about, as if safety lay only in that +never-shifting, fixed regard. He had noticed, and states in his +narrative, that Strap had seemed quite unable, in the same way, to +take his eyes off the creature for a single second. + +He could now see that, of whatever nature it might be, it was, in form +and features, most exactly a young woman. The features, for instance, +were regular and fine. He remarks in particular upon the chin. All +about its face, narrowing the oval of it, fell dark glossy curtains of +hair, very straight and glistening with wet. Its garment was cut in a +plain circle round the neck, and short off at the shoulders, leaving +the arms entirely bare. This garment, shift, smock or gown, as he +indifferently calls it, appeared thin, and was found afterward to be +of a grey colour, soft and clinging to the shape. It was made loose, +however, and gathered in at the waist. He could not see the +creature's legs, as they were tucked under her. Her arms, it has been +related, were behind her back. The only other things to be remarked +upon were the strange stillness of one who was plainly suffering, and +might well be alarmed, and appearance of expectancy, a dumb appeal; +what he himself calls rather well "an ignorant sort of impatience, +like that of a sick animal." + +"Come," Beckwith now said, "let me help you up. You will get cold if +you sit here. Give me your hand, will you?" She neither spoke nor +moved; simply continued to search his eyes. Strap, meantime, was still +trembling and whining. But now, when he stooped yet lower to take her +forcibly by the arms, she shrank back a little way and turned her +head, and he saw to his horror that she had a great open wound in the +side of her neck--from which, however, no blood was issuing. Yet it +was clearly a fresh wound, recently made. + +He was greatly shocked. "Good God," he said, "there's been foul play +here," and whipped out his handkerchief. Kneeling, he wound it several +times round her slender throat and knotted it as tightly as he could; +then, without more ado, he took her up in his arms, under the knees +and round the middle, and carried her down the slope to the road. He +describes her as of no weight at all. He says it was "exactly like +carrying an armful of feathers about." "I took her down the hill and +through the hedge at the bottom as if she had been a pillow." + +Here it was that he discovered that her wrists were bound together +behind her back with a kind of plait of thongs so intricate that he +was quite unable to release them. He felt his pockets for his knife, +but could not find it, and then recollected suddenly that he should +have a new one with him, the third prize in a whist tournament in +which he had taken part that evening. He found it wrapped in paper in +his overcoat pocket, with it cut the thongs and set the little +creature free. She immediately responded--the first sign of animation +which she had displayed--by throwing both her arms about his body and +clinging to him in an ecstasy. Holding him so that, as he says, he +felt the shuddering go all through her, she suddenly lowered her head +and touched his wrist with her cheek. He says that instead of being +cold to the touch, "like a fish," as she had seemed to be when he +first took her out of the furze, she was now "as warm as a toast, like +a child." + +So far he had put her down for "a foreigner," convenient term for +defining something which you do not quite understand. She had none of +his language, evidently; she was undersized, some three feet six +inches by the look of her,[4] and yet perfectly proportioned. She was +most curiously dressed in a frock cut to the knee, and actually in +nothing else at all. It left her bare-legged and bare-armed, and was +made, as he puts it himself, of stuff like cobweb: "those dusty, +drooping kind which you put on your finger to stop bleeding." He could +not recognise the web, but was sure that it was neither linen nor +cotton. It seemed to stick to her body wherever it touched a prominent +part: "you could see very well, to say nothing of feeling, that she +was well made and well nourished." She ought, as he judged, to be a +child of five years old, "and a feather-weight at that"; but he felt +certain that she must be "much more like sixteen." It was that, I +gather, which made him suspect her of being something outside +experience. So far, then, it was safe to call her a foreigner: but he +was not yet at the end of his discoveries. + +[Footnote 4: Her exact measurements are stated to have been as +follows: height from crown to sole, 3 feet 5 inches. Round waist, 15 +inches; round bust, 21 inches; round wrist, 3-1/2 inches; round neck, +7-1/2 inches.] + +Heavy footsteps, coming from the direction of Wishford, in due time +proved to be those of Police Constable Gulliver, a neighbour of +Beckwith's and guardian of the peace in his own village. He lifted his +lantern to flash it into the traveller's eyes, and dropped it again +with a pleasant "good evening." + +He added that it was inclined to be showery, which was more than +true, as it was at the moment raining hard. With that, it seems, he +would have passed on. + +But Beckwith, whether smitten by self-consciousness of having been +seen with a young woman in his arms at a suspicious hour of the night +by the village policeman, or bursting perhaps with the importance of +his affair, detained Gulliver. "Just look at this," he said boldly. +"Here's a pretty thing to have found on a lonely road. Foul play +somewhere, I'm afraid," he then exhibited his burden to the lantern +light. + +To his extreme surprise, however, the constable, after exploring the +beam of light and all that it contained for some time in silence, +reached out his hand for the knife which Beckwith still held open. He +looked at it on both sides, examined the handle and gave it back. +"Foul play, Mr. Beckwith?" he said laughing. "Bless you, they use +bigger tools than that. That's just a toy, the like of that. Cut your +hand with it, though, already, I see." He must have noticed the +handkerchief, for as he spoke the light from his lantern shone full +upon the face and neck of the child, or creature, in the young man's +arms, so clearly that, looking down at it, Beckwith himself could see +the clear grey of its intensely watchful eyes, and the very pupils of +them, diminished to specks of black. It was now, therefore, plain to +him that what he held was a foreigner indeed, since the parish +constable was unable to see it. Strap had smelt it, then seen it, and +he, Beckwith, had seen it; but it was invisible to Gulliver. "I felt +now," he says in his narrative, "that something was wrong. I did not +like the idea of taking it into the house; but I intended to make one +more trial before I made up my mind about that. I said good night to +Gulliver, put her on my bicycle and pushed her home. But first of all +I took the handkerchief from her neck and put it in my pocket. There +was no blood upon it, that I could see." + +His wife, as he had expected, was waiting at the gate for him. She +exclaimed, as he had expected, upon the lateness of the hour. Beckwith +stood for a little in the roadway before the house, explaining that +Strap had bolted up the hill and had had to be looked for and fetched +back. While speaking he noticed that Mrs. Beckwith was as insensible +to the creature on the bicycle as Gulliver the constable had been. +Indeed, she went much further to prove herself so than he, for she +actually put her hand upon the handle-bar of the machine, and in order +to do that drove it right through the centre of the girl crouching +there. Beckwith saw that done. "I declare solemnly upon my honour," he +writes, "that it was as if Mary had drilled a hole clean through the +middle of her back. Through gown and skin and bone and all her arm +went; and how it went I don't know. To me it seemed that her hand was +on the handle-bar, while her upper arm, to the elbow, was in between +the girl's shoulders. There was a gap from the elbow downwards where +Mary's arm was inside the body; then from the creature's diaphragm her +lower arm, wrist and hand came out. And all the time we were speaking +the girl's eyes were on my face. I was now quite determined that I +wouldn't have her in the house for a mint of money." + +He put her, finally, in the dog-kennel. Strap, as a favourite, lived +in the house; but he kept a greyhound in the garden, in a kennel +surrounded by a sort of run made of iron poles and galvanised wire. It +was roofed in with wire also, for the convenience of stretching a +tarpaulin in wet weather. Here it was that he bestowed the strange +being rescued from the down. + +It was clever, I think, of Beckwith to infer that what Strap had shown +respect for would be respected by the greyhound, and certainly bold of +him to act upon his inference. However, events proved that he had been +perfectly right. Bran, the greyhound, was interested, highly +interested in his guest. The moment he saw his master he saw what he +was carrying. "Quiet, Bran, quiet there," was a very unnecessary +adjuration. Bran stretched up his head and sniffed, but went no +further; and when Beckwith had placed his burden on the straw inside +the kennel, Bran lay down, as if on guard, outside the opening and put +his muzzle on his forepaws. Again Beckwith noticed that curious +appearance of the eyes which the fox-terrier's had made already. +Bran's eyes were turned upward to show the narrow arcs of white. + +Before he went to bed, he tells us, but not before Mrs. Beckwith had +gone there, he took out a bowl of bread and milk to his patient. Bran +he found to be still stretched out before the entry; the girl was +nestled down in the straw, as if asleep or prepared to be so, with her +face upon her hand. Upon an after-thought he went back for a clean +pocket handkerchief, warm water and a sponge. With these, by the light +of a candle, he washed the wound, dipped the rag in hazeline, and +applied it. This done, he touched the creature's head, nodded a good +night and retired. "She smiled at me very prettily," he says. "That +was the first time she did it." + +There was no blood on the handkerchief which he had removed. + +Early in the morning following upon the adventure Beckwith was out and +about. He wished to verify the overnight experiences in the light of +refreshed intelligence. On approaching the kennel he saw at once that +it had been no dream. There, in fact, was the creature of his +discovery playing with Bran the greyhound, circling sedately about +him, weaving her arms, pointing her toes, arching her graceful neck, +stooping to him, as if inviting him to sport, darting away--"like a +fairy," says Beckwith, "at her magic, dancing in a ring." Bran, he +observed, made no effort to catch her, but crouched rather than sat, +as if ready to spring. He followed her about with his eyes as far as +he could; but when the course of her dance took her immediately behind +him he did not turn his head, but kept his eye fixed as far backward +as he could, against the moment when she should come again into the +scope of his vision. "It seemed as important to him as it had the day +before to Strap to keep her always in his eye. It seemed--and always +seemed so long as I could study them together--intensely important." +Bran's mouth was stretched to "a sort of grin"; occasionally he +panted. When Beckwith entered the kennel and touched the dog (which +took little notice of him) he found him trembling with excitement. His +heart was beating at a great rate. He also drank quantities of water. + +Beckwith, whose narrative, hitherto summarised, I may now quote, tells +us that the creature was indescribably graceful and light-footed. +"You couldn't hear the fall of her foot: you never could. Her dancing +and circling about the cage seemed to be the most important business +of her life; she was always at it, especially in bright weather. I +shouldn't have called it restlessness so much as busyness. It really +seemed to mean more to her than exercise or irritation at confinement. +It was evident also that she was happy when so engaged. She used to +sing. She sang also when she was sitting still with Bran; but not with +such exhilaration. + +"Her eyes were bright--when she was dancing about--with mischief and +devilry. I cannot avoid that word, though it does not describe what I +really mean. She looked wild and outlandish and full of fun, as if she +knew that she was teasing the dog, and yet couldn't help herself. When +you say of a child that he looks wicked, you don't mean it literally; +it is rather a compliment than not. So it was with her and her +wickedness. She did look wicked, there's no mistake--able and willing +to do wickedly; but I am sure she never meant to hurt Bran. They were +always firm friends, though the dog knew very well who was master. + +"When you looked at her you did not think of her height. She was so +complete; as well made as a statuette. I could have spanned her waist +with my two thumbs and middle fingers, and her neck (very nearly) +with one hand. She was pale and inclined to be dusky in complexion, +but not so dark as a gipsy; she had grey eyes, and dark-brown hair, +which she could sit upon if she chose. Her gown you could have sworn +was made of cobweb; I don't know how else to describe it. As I had +suspected, she wore nothing else, for while I was there that first +morning, so soon as the sun came up over the hill she slipped it off +her and stood up dressed in nothing at all. She was a regular little +Venus--that's all I can say. I never could get accustomed to that +weakness of hers for slipping off her frock, though no doubt it was +very absurd. She had no sort of shame in it, so why on earth should I? + +"The food, I ought to mention, had disappeared: the bowl was empty. +But I know now that Bran must have had it. So long as she remained in +the kennel or about my place she never ate anything, nor drank either. +If she had I must have known it, as I used to clean the run out every +morning. I was always particular about that. I used to say that you +couldn't keep dogs too clean. But I tried her, unsuccessfully, with +all sorts of things: flowers, honey, dew--for I had read somewhere +that fairies drink dew and suck honey out of flowers. She used to look +at the little messes I made for her, and when she knew me better +would grimace at them, and look up in my face and laugh at me. + +"I have said that she used to sing sometimes. It was like nothing that +I can describe. Perhaps the wind in the telegraph wire comes nearest +to it, and yet that is an absurd comparison. I could never catch any +words; indeed I did not succeed in learning a single word of her +language. I doubt very much whether they have what we call a +language--I mean the people who are like her, her own people. They +communicate with each other, I fancy, as she did with my dogs, +inarticulately, but with perfect communication and understanding on +either side. When I began to teach her English I noticed that she had +a kind of pity for me, a kind of contempt perhaps is nearer the mark, +that I should be compelled to express myself in so clumsy a way. I am +no philosopher, but I imagine that our need of putting one word after +another may be due to our habit of thinking in sequence. If there is +no such thing as Time in the other world it should not be necessary +there to frame speech in sentences at all. I am sure that Thumbeline +(which was my name for her--I never learned her real name) spoke with +Bran and Strap in flashes which revealed her whole thought at once. So +also they answered her, there's no doubt. So also she contrived to +talk with my little girl, who, although she was four years old and a +great chatterbox, never attempted to say a single word of her own +language to Thumbeline, yet communicated with her by the hour +together. But I did not know anything of this for a month or more, +though it must have begun almost at once. + +"I blame myself for it, myself only. I ought, of course, to have +remembered that children are more likely to see fairies than +grown-ups; but then--why did Florrie keep it all secret? Why did she +not tell her mother, or me, that she had seen a fairy in Bran's +kennel? The child was as open as the day, yet she concealed her +knowledge from both of us without the least difficulty. She seemed the +same careless, laughing child she had always been; one could not have +supposed her to have a care in the world, and yet, for nearly six +months she must have been full of care, having daily secret +intercourse with Thumbeline and keeping her eyes open all the time +lest her mother or I should find her out. Certainly she could have +taught me something in the way of keeping secrets. I know that I kept +mine very badly, and blame myself more than enough for keeping it at +all. God knows what we might have been spared if, on the night I +brought her home, I had told Mary the whole truth! And yet--how could +I have convinced her that she was impaling some one with her arm +while her hand rested on the bar of the bicycle? Is not that an +absurdity on the face of it? Yes, indeed; but the sequel is no +absurdity. That's the terrible fact. + +"I kept Thumbeline in the kennel for the whole winter. She seemed +happy enough there with the dogs, and, of course, she had had Florrie, +too, though I did not find that out until the spring. I don't doubt, +now, that if I had kept her in there altogether she would have been +perfectly contented. + +"The first time I saw Florrie with her I was amazed. It was a Sunday +morning. There was our four-year-old child standing at the wire, +pressing herself against it, and Thumbeline close to her. Their faces +almost touched; their fingers were interlaced; I am certain that they +were speaking to each other in their own fashion, by flashes, without +words. I watched them for a bit; I saw Bran come and sit up on his +haunches and join in. He looked from one to another, and all about; +and then he saw me. + +"Now that is how I know that they were all three in communication; +because, the very next moment, Florrie turned round and ran to me, and +said in her pretty baby-talk, 'Talking to Bran. Florrie talking to +Bran.' If this was wilful deceit it was most accomplished. It could +not have been better done. 'And who else were you talking to, +Florrie?' I said. She fixed her round blue eyes upon me, as if in +wonder, then looked away and said shortly, 'No one else.' And I could +not get her to confess or admit then or at any time afterward that she +had any cognisance at all of the fairy in Bran's kennel, although +their communications were daily, and often lasted for hours at a time. +I don't know that it makes things any better, but I have thought +sometimes that the child believed me to be as insensible to Thumbeline +as her mother was. She can only have believed it at first, of course, +but that may have prompted her to a concealment which she did not +afterwards care to confess to. + +"Be this as it may, Florrie, in fact, behaved with Thumbeline exactly +as the two dogs did. She made no attempt to catch her at her circlings +and wheelings about the kennel, nor to follow her wonderful dances, +nor (in her presence) to imitate them. But she was (like the dogs) +aware of nobody else when under the spell of Thumbeline's personality; +and when she had got to know her she seemed to care for nobody else at +all. I ought, no doubt, to have foreseen that and guarded against it. + +"Thumbeline was extremely attractive. I never saw such eyes as hers, +such mysterious fascination. She was nearly always good-tempered, +nearly always happy; but sometimes she had fits of temper and kept +herself to herself. Nothing then would get her out of the kennel, +where she would lie curled up like an animal with her knees to her +chin and one arm thrown over her face. Bran was always wretched at +these times, and did all he knew to coax her out. He ceased to care +for me or my wife after she came to us, and instead of being wild at +the prospect of his Saturday and Sunday runs, it was hard to get him +along. I had to take him on a lead until we had turned to go home; +then he would set off by himself, in spite of hallooing and scolding, +at a long steady gallop and one would find him waiting crouched at the +gate of his run, and Thumbeline on the ground inside it, with her legs +crossed like a tailor, mocking and teasing him with her wonderful +shining eyes. Only once or twice did I see her worse than sick or +sorry; then she was transported with rage and another person +altogether. She never touched me--and why or how I had offended her I +have no notion[5]--but she buzzed and hovered about me like an angry +bee. She appeared to have wings, which hummed in their furious +movement; she was red in the face, her eyes burned; she grinned at me +and ground her little teeth together. A curious shrill noise came +from her, like the screaming of a gnat or hoverfly; but no words, +never any words. Bran showed me his teeth too, and would not look at +me. It was very odd. + +[Footnote 5: "I have sometimes thought," he adds in a note, "that it +may have been jealousy. My wife had been with me in the garden and had +stuck a daffodil in my coat."] + +"When I looked in, on my return home, she was as merry as usual, and +as affectionate. I think she had no memory. + +"I am trying to give all the particulars I was able to gather from +observation. In some things she was difficult, in others very easy to +teach. For instance, I got her to learn in no time that she ought to +wear her clothes, such as they were, when I was with her. She +certainly preferred to go without them, especially in the sunshine; +but by leaving her the moment she slipped her frock off I soon made +her understand that if she wanted me she must behave herself according +to my notions of behaviour. She got that fixed in her little head, but +even so she used to do her best to hoodwink me. She would slip out one +shoulder when she thought I wasn't looking, and before I knew where I +was half of her would be gleaming in the sun like satin. Directly I +noticed it I used to frown, and then she would pretend to be ashamed +of herself, hang her head, and wriggle her frock up to its place +again. However, I never could teach her to keep her skirts about her +knees. She was as innocent as a baby about that sort of thing. + +"I taught her some English words, and a sentence or two. That was +toward the end of her confinement to the kennel, about March. I used +to touch parts of her, or of myself, or Bran, and peg away at the +names of them. Mouth, eyes, ears, hands, chest, tail, back, front: she +learned all those and more. Eat, drink, laugh, cry, love, kiss, those +also. As for kissing (apart from the word) she proved herself to be an +expert. She kissed me, Florrie, Bran, Strap indifferently, one as soon +as another, and any rather than none, and all four for choice. + +"I learned some things myself, more than a thing or two. I don't mind +owning that one thing was to value my wife's steady and tried +affection far above the wild love of this unbalanced, unearthly little +creature, who seemed to be like nothing so much as a woman with the +conscience left out. The conscience, we believe, is the still small +voice of the Deity crying to us in the dark recesses of the body; +pointing out the path of duty; teaching respect for the opinion of the +world, for tradition, decency and order. It is thanks to conscience +that a man is true and a woman modest. Not that Thumbeline could be +called immodest, unless a baby can be so described, or an animal. But +could I be called 'true'? I greatly fear that I could not--in fact, I +know it too well. I meant no harm; I was greatly interested; and +there was always before me the real difficulty of making Mary +understand that something was in the kennel which she couldn't see. It +would have led to great complications, even if I had persuaded her of +the fact. No doubt she would have insisted on my getting rid of +Thumbeline--but how on earth could I have done that if Thumbeline had +not chosen to go? But for all that I know very well that I ought to +have told her, cost what it might. If I had done it I should have +spared myself lifelong regret, and should only have gone without a few +weeks of extraordinary interest which I now see clearly could not have +been good for me, as not being founded upon any revealed Christian +principle, and most certainly were not worth the price I had to pay +for them. + +"I learned one more curious fact which I must not forget. Nothing +would induce Thumbeline to touch or pass over anything made of +zinc.[6] I don't know the reason of it; but gardeners will tell you +that the way to keep a plant from slugs is to put a zinc collar round +it. It is due to that I was able to keep her in Bran's run without +difficulty. To have got out she would have had to pass zinc. The wire +was all galvanised. + +[Footnote 6: This is a curious thing, unsupported by any other +evidence known to me. I asked Despoina about it, but she would not, or +she did not, answer. She appeared not to understand what zinc was, and +I had none handy.] + +"She showed her dislike of it in numerous ways: one was her care to +avoid touching the sides or top of the enclosure when she was at her +gambols. At such times, when she was at her wildest, she was all over +the place, skipping high like a lamb, twisting like a leveret, +wheeling round and round in circles like a young dog, or skimming, +like a swallow on the wing, above ground. But she never made a +mistake; she turned in a moment or flung herself backward if there was +the least risk of contact. When Florrie used to converse with her from +outside, in that curious silent way the two had, it would always be +the child that put its hands through the wire, never Thumbeline. I +once tried to put her against the roof when I was playing with her. +She screamed like a shot hare and would not come out of the kennel all +day. There was no doubt at all about her feelings for zinc. All other +metals seemed indifferent to her. + +"With the advent of spring weather Thumbeline became not only more +beautiful, but wilder, and exceedingly restless. She now coaxed me to +let her out, and against my judgment I did it; she had to be carried +over the entry; for when I had set the gate wide open and pointed her +the way into the garden she squatted down in her usual attitude of +attention, with her legs crossed, and watched me, waiting. I wanted to +see how she would get through the hateful wire, so went away and hid +myself, leaving her alone with Bran. I saw her creep to the entry and +peer at the wire. What followed was curious. Bran came up wagging his +tail and stood close to her, his side against her head; he looked +down, inviting her to go out with him. Long looks passed between them, +and then Bran stooped his head, she put her arms around his neck, +twined her feet about his foreleg, and was carried out. Then she +became a mad thing, now bird, now moth; high and low, round and round, +flashing about the place for all the world like a humming-bird moth, +perfectly beautiful in her motions (whose ease always surprised me), +and equally so in her colouring of soft grey and dusky-rose flesh. +Bran grew a puppy again and whipped about after her in great circles +round the meadow. But though he was famous at coursing, and has killed +his hares single-handed, he was never once near Thumbeline. It was a +wonderful sight and made me late for business. + +"By degrees she got to be very bold, and taught me boldness too, and +(I am ashamed to say) greater degrees of deceit. She came freely into +the house and played with Florrie up and down stairs; she got on my +knee at meal-times, or evenings when my wife and I were together. Fine +tricks she played me, I must own. She spilled my tea for me, broke +cups and saucers, scattered my Patience cards, caught poor Mary's +knitting wool and rolled it about the room. The cunning little +creature knew that I dared not scold her or make any kind of fuss. She +used to beseech me for forgiveness occasionally when I looked very +glum, and would touch my cheek to make me look at her imploring eyes, +and keep me looking at her till I smiled. Then she would put her arms +round my neck and pull herself up to my level and kiss me, and then +nestle down in my arms and pretend to sleep. By-and-by, when my +attention was called off her, she would pinch me, or tweak my necktie, +and make me look again at her wicked eye peeping out from under my +arm. I had to kiss her again, of course, and at last she might go to +sleep in earnest. She seemed able to sleep at any hour or in any +place, just like an animal. + +"I had some difficulty in arranging for the night when once she had +made herself free of the house. She saw no reason whatever for our +being separated; but I circumvented her by nailing a strip of zinc all +round the door; and I put one round Florrie's too. I pretended to my +wife that it was to keep out draughts. Thumbeline was furious when she +found out how she had been tricked. I think she never quite forgave me +for it. Where she hid herself at night I am not sure. I think on the +sitting-room sofa; but on mild mornings I used to find her out-doors, +playing round Bran's kennel. + +"Strap, our fox-terrier, picked up some rat poison towards the end of +April and died in the night. Thumbeline's way of taking that was very +curious. It shocked me a good deal. She had never been so friendly +with him as with Bran, though certainly more at ease in his company +than in mine. The night before he died I remember that she and Bran +and he had been having high games in the meadow, which had ended by +their all lying down together in a heap, Thumbeline's head on Bran's +flank, and her legs between his. Her arm had been round Strap's neck +in a most loving way. They made quite a picture for a Royal +Academician; 'Tired of Play,' or 'The End of a Romp,' I can fancy he +would call it. Next morning I found poor old Strap stiff and staring, +and Thumbeline and Bran at their games just the same. She actually +jumped over him and all about him as if he had been a lump of earth or +a stone. Just some such thing he was to her; she did not seem able to +realise that there was the cold body of her friend. Bran just sniffed +him over and left him, but Thumbeline showed no consciousness that he +was there at all. I wondered, was this heartlessness or obliquity? But +I have never found the answer to my question.[7] + +[Footnote 7: I have observed this frequently for myself, and can +answer Beckwith's question for him. I would refer the reader in the +first place to my early experience of the boy (to call him so) with +the rabbit in the wood. There was an act of shocking cruelty, done +idly, almost unconsciously. I was not shocked at all, child as I was, +and quickly moved to pity and terror, because I knew that the creature +was not to be judged by our standards. From this and other things of +the sort which I have observed, and from this tale of Beckwith's, I +judge, that, to the fairy kind, directly life ceases to be lived at +the full, the object, be it fairy, or animal, or vegetable, is not +perceived by the other to exist. Thus, if a fairy should die, the +others would not know that its accidents were there; if a rabbit (as +in the case cited) should be caught it would therefore cease to be +rabbit. We ourselves have very much the same habit of regard toward +plant life. Our attitude to a tree or a growing plant ceases the +moment that plant is out of the ground. It is then, as we say, +_dead_--that is, it ceases to be a plant. So also we never scruple to +pluck the flowers, or the whole flower-scape from a plant, to put it +in our buttonhole or in the bosom of our friend, and thereafter to +cease our interest in the plant as such. It now becomes a memory, a +_gage d'amour_, a token or a sudden glory--what you will. This is the +habit of mankind; but I know of rare ones, both men and women, who +never allow dead flowers to be thrown into the draught, but always +give them decent burial, either cremation or earth to earth. I find +that admirable, yet don't condemn their neighbours, nor consider +fairies cruel who torture the living and disregard the maimed or the +dead.] + +"Now I come to the tragical part of my story, and wish with all my +heart that I could leave it out. But beyond the full confession I have +made to my wife, the County Police and the newspapers, I feel that I +should not shrink from any admission that may be called for of how +much I have been to blame. In May, on the 13th of May, Thumbeline, +Bran, and our only child, Florrie, disappeared. + +"It was a day, I remember well, of wonderful beauty. I had left them +all three together in the water meadow, little thinking of what was in +store for us before many hours. Thumbeline had been crowning Florrie +with a wreath of flowers. She had gathered cuckoo-pint and marsh +marigolds and woven them together, far more deftly than any of us +could have done, into a chaplet. I remember the curious winding, +wandering air she had been singing (without any words, as usual) over +her business, and how she touched each flower first with her lips, and +then brushed it lightly across her bosom before she wove it in. She +had kept her eyes on me as she did it, looking up from under her +brows, as if to see whether I knew what she was about. + +"I don't doubt now but that she was bewitching Florrie by this curious +performance, which every flower had to undergo separately; but, fool +that I was, I thought nothing of it at the time, and bicycled off to +Salisbury leaving them there. + +"At noon my poor wife came to me at the Bank distracted with anxiety +and fatigue. She had run most of the way, she gave me to understand. +Her news was that Florrie and Bran could not be found anywhere. She +said that she had gone to the gate of the meadow to call the child in, +and not seeing her, or getting any answer, she had gone down to the +river at the bottom. Here she had found a few picked wild flowers, but +no other traces. There were no footprints in the mud, either of child +or dog. Having spent the morning with some of the neighbours in a +fruitless search, she had now come to me. + +"My heart was like lead, and shame prevented me from telling her the +truth as I was sure it must be. But my own conviction of it clogged +all my efforts. Of what avail could it be to inform the police or +organise search-parties, knowing what I knew only too well? However, I +did put Gulliver in communication with the head-office in Sarum, and +everything possible was done. We explored a circuit of six miles about +Wishford; every fold of the hills, every spinney, every hedgerow was +thoroughly examined. But that first night of grief had broken down my +shame: I told my wife the whole truth in the presence of Reverend +Richard Walsh, the Congregational minister, and in spite of her +absolute incredulity, and, I may add, scorn, next morning I repeated +it to Chief Inspector Notcutt of Salisbury. Particulars got into the +local papers by the following Saturday; and next I had to face the +ordeal of the _Daily Chronicle_, _Daily News_, _Daily Graphic_, +_Star_, and other London journals. Most of these newspapers sent +representatives to lodge in the village, many of them with +photographic cameras. All this hateful notoriety I had brought upon +myself, and did my best to bear like the humble, contrite Christian +which I hope I may say I have become. We found no trace of our dear +one, and never have to this day. Bran, too, had completely vanished. I +have not cared to keep a dog since. + +"Whether my dear wife ever believed my account I cannot be sure. She +has never reproached me for wicked thoughtlessness, that's certain. +Mr. Walsh, our respected pastor, who has been so kind as to read this +paper, told me more than once that he could hardly doubt it. The +Salisbury police made no comments upon it one way or another. My +colleagues at the Bank, out of respect for my grief and sincere +repentance, treated me with a forbearance for which I can never be too +grateful. I need not add that every word of this is absolutely true. I +made notes of the most remarkable characteristics of the being I +called Thumbeline _at the time of remarking them_, and those notes are +still in my possession." + + * * * * * + +Here, with the exception of a few general reflections which are of +little value, Mr. Beckwith's paper ends. It was read, I ought to say, +by the Rev. Richard Walsh at the meeting of the South Wilts Folk-lore +Society and Field Club held at Amesbury in June 1892, and is to be +found in the published transactions of that body (Vol. IV. New Series, +pp. 305 _seq._). + + + + +THE FAIRY WIFE + + +There is nothing surprising in that story, to my mind, but the +reprobation with which Beckwith visits himself. What could he have +done that he did not? How could he have refrained from doing what he +did? Yet there are curious things about it, and one of those is the +partiality of the manifestation. The fairy was visible to him, his +child and his dogs but to no one else. So, in my own experience, had +she been whom I saw in K---- Park, whom Harkness, my companion, did +not see. My explanation of it does not carry me over all the +difficulties. I say, or will repeat if I have said it before, that the +fairy kind are really the spirit, essence, substance (what you will) +of certain sensible things, such as trees, flowers, wind, water, +hills, woods, marshes and the like, that their normal appearance to us +is that of these natural phenomena; but that in certain states of +mind, perhaps in certain conditions of body, there is a relation +established by which we are able to see them on our own terms, as it +were, or in our own idiom, and they also to treat with us to some +extent, to a large extent, on the same plane or standing-ground. That +there are limitations to this relationship is plain already; for +instance, Beckwith was not able to get his fairy prisoner to speak, +and I myself have never had speech with more than one in my life. But +as to that I shall have a very curious case to report shortly, where a +man taught his fairy-wife to speak. + +The mentioning of that undoubted marriage brings me to the question of +sex. There is, of course, not the slightest doubt about it. Mrs. +Ventris was a fairy wife. Mrs. Ventris was a puzzle to me for a good +many years--in fact until Despoina explained to me many things. For +Mrs. Ventris had a permanent human shape, and spoke as freely as you +or I. I thought at one time that she might be the offspring of a mixed +marriage, like Elsie Marks (whose mother, by the way, was another case +of the sort); but in fact Mrs. Ventris and Mrs. Marks were both fairy +wives, and the wood-girl, Mabilla King, whose case I am going to deal +with was another. But this particular relationship is one which my +explanation of fairy apparitions does not really cover: for marriage +implies a permanent accessibility (to put it so) of two normally +inaccessible natures; and parentage implies very much more. That, +indeed, implies what the Christians call Miracle; but it is quite +beyond dispute. I have a great number of cases ready to my hand, and +shall deal at large with all of them in the course of this essay, in +which fairies have had intercourse with mortals. It is by no means the +fact that the wife is always of the fairy-kind. My own experience at +C---- shall prove that. But I must content myself with mentioning the +well-known case of Mary Wellwood who was wife to a carpenter near +Ashby de la Zouche, and was twice taken by a fairy and twice +recovered. She had children in each of her states of being, and on one +recorded occasion her two families met. It appears to be a law that +the wife takes the nature of the husband, or as much of it as she can, +and it is important to remark that _in all cases_ the children are of +the husband's nature, fairy or mortal as he may happen to be. +"Nature," Despoina told me, "follows the male." So far as fairies are +concerned it seems certain that union with mortals runs in families or +clans, if one may so describe their curious relationships to each +other. There were five sisters of the wood in one of the Western +departments of France (Lot-et-Garonne, I think), who all married men: +two of them married two brothers. Apart they led the decorous lives of +the French middle class, but when they were together it was a sight to +see! A curious one, and to us, with our strong associations of ideas, +that tremendous hand which memory has upon our heart-strings, a +poignant one. For they had lost their powers, but not their impulses. +It was a case of _si vieillesse pouvait_. I suppose they may have +appeared to some chance wayfarer, getting a glimpse of them at their +gambols between the poplar stems of the road, or in the vistas of the +hazel-brakes, as a company of sprightly matrons on a frolic. To the +Greeks foolishness! And be sure that such an observer would shrug them +out of mind. My own impression is that these ladies were perfectly +happy, that they had nothing of that _maggior' dolore_ which we +mortals know, and for which our joys have so often to pay. Let us hope +so at any rate, for about a fairy or a growing boy conscious of the +prison-shades could Poe have spun his horrors. + +"To the Greeks foolishness," I said in my haste; but in very truth it +was far from being so. To the Greeks there was nothing extraordinary +in the parentage of a river or the love of a God for a mortal. Nor +should there be to a Christian who accepts the orthodox account of the +foundation of his faith. So far as we know, the generative process of +every created thing is the same; it is, therefore, an allowable +inference that the same process obtains with the created things which +are not sensible to ourselves. If flowers mate and beget as we do, why +not winds and waters, why not gods and nymphs, fauns and fairies? It +is the creative urgency that imports more than the creative matter. To +my mind, _magna componere parvis_, it is my fixed belief that all +created nature known to us is the issue of the mighty love of God for +his first-made creature the Earth. I accept the Greek mythology as the +nearest account of the truth we are likely to get. I have never had +the least difficulty in accepting it; and all I have since found out +of the relations of men with their fellow-creatures of other genera +confirms me in the belief that the urgency is the paramount necessity. + +If I am to deal with a case of a mixed marriage, where the wife was a +fairy, the spirit of a tree, I shall ask leave to set down first a +plain proposition, which is that all Natural Facts (as wind, hills, +lakes, trees, animals, rain, rivers, flowers) have an underlying Idea +or Soul whereby they really are what they appear, to which they owe +the beauty, majesty, pity, terror, love, which they excite in us; and +that this Idea, or Soul, having a real existence of its own in +community with its companions of the same nature, can be discerned by +mortal men in forms which best explain to human intelligence the +passions which they excite in human breasts. This is how I explain the +fact, for instance, that the austerity of a lonely rock at sea will +take the form and semblance, and much more than that, assume the +prerogatives of a brooding man, or that the swift freedom of a river +will pass by, as in a flash, in the coursing limbs of a youth, or that +at dusk, out of a reed-encircled mountain-tarn, silvery under the hush +of the grey hour, there will rise, and gleam, and sink again, the pale +face, the shoulders and breast of the Spirit of the Pool; that, +finally, the grace of a tree, and its panic of fury when lashed by +storm, very capable in either case of inspiring love or horror, will +be revealed rarely in the form of a nymph. There may be a more +rational explanation of these curious things, but I don't know of one: + + _Fortunatus et ille, Deos qui novit agrestes!_ + +Happy may one be in the fairies of our own country. Happy, even yet, +are they who can find the Oreads of the hill, Dryads of the wood, +nymphs of river, marsh, plough-land, pasture, and heath. Now, leaving +to Greece the things that are Greek, here for an apologue follows a +plain recital of facts within the knowledge of every man of the +Cheviots. + + +I + +There is in that country, not far from Otterburn--between Otterburn +and the Scottish border--a remote hamlet consisting of a few white +cottages, farm buildings and a shingle-spired church. It is called +Dryhope, and lies in a close valley, which is watered by a beck or +burn, known as the Dryhope Burn. It is deeply buried in the hills. +Spurs of the Cheviots as these are, they rise to a considerable +elevation, but are pasturable nearly to the top. There, however, where +the heather begins, peat-hags and morasses make dangerous provision, +from which the flocks are carefully guarded. It is the practice of the +country for the shepherds to be within touch of them all night, lest +some, feeding upward (as sheep always do) should reach the summits and +be lost or mired inextricably. These upland stretches, consequently, +are among the most desolate spots to be found in our islands. I have +walked over them myself within recent years and met not a human soul, +nor beast of man's taming. Ravens, curlews, peewits, a lagging fox or +limping hare; such, with the unsensed Spirits of the Earth, will be +your company. In particular I traversed (in 1902) the great upland +called Limmer Fell, and saw the tarn--Silent Water--and the trees +called The Seven Sisters. They are silver birches of remarkable size +and beauty. One of them is fallen. Standing there, looking north-west, +the Knapp may be seen easily, some five miles away; and the extent of +the forest with which it is covered can be estimated. A great and +solemn wood that is, which no borderer will ever enter if he can help +it. + +There was--and may be still--a family of shepherds living in Dryhope +of the name of King. When these things occurred there were alive +George King, a patriarch of seventy-five years, Miranda King, his +daughter-in-law, widow of his son, who was supposed to be a +middle-aged woman, and a young man, Andrew King, her only son. That +was the family; and there was a girl, Bessie Prawle, daughter of a +neighbour, very much in and out of the house, and held by common +report to be betrothed to Andrew. She used to help the widow in +domestic matters, see to the poultry, milk the cow, churn the butter, +press the cheeses. The Kings were independent people, like the +dalesmen of Cumberland, and stood, as the saying is, upon their own +foot-soles. Old King had a tenant-right upon the fell, and owed no man +anything. + +There was said to be a mystery connected with Miranda the widow, who +was a broad-browed, deep-breasted, handsome woman, very dark and +silent. She was not a native of Redesdale, not known to be of +Northumberland. Her husband, who had been a sailor, had brought her +back with him one day, saying that she was his wife and her name +Miranda. He had said no more about her, would say no more, and had +been drowned at sea before his son was born. She, for her part, had +been as uncommunicative as he. Such reticence breeds wonderment in the +minds of such a people as they of Dryhope, and out of wonderment arise +wonders. It was told that until Miranda King was brought in sea-birds +had never been seen in Dryhopedale. It was said that they came on that +very night when George King the younger came home, and she with him, +carrying his bundle and her own. It was said that they had never since +left the hamlet, and that when Miranda went out of doors, which was +seldom, she was followed by clouds of them whichever way she turned. I +have no means of testing the truth of these rumours, but, however it +may be, no scandal was ever brought against her. She was respectable +and respected. Old King, the grandfather, relied strongly upon her +judgment. She brought up her son in decent living and the fear of God. + +In the year when Andrew was nineteen he was a tall, handsome lad, and +a shepherd, following the profession, as he was to inherit the estate, +of his forebears. One April night in that year he and his grandfather, +the pair of them with a collie, lay out on the fell-side together. +Lambing is late in Redesdale, the spring comes late; April is often a +month of snow. + +They had a fire and their cloaks; the ground was dry, and they lay +upon it under a clear sky strewn with stars. At midnight George King, +the grandfather, was asleep, but Andrew was broad awake. He heard the +flock (which he could not see) sweep by him like a storm, the +bell-wether leading, and as they went up the hill the wind began to +blow, a long, steady, following blast. The collie on his feet, ears +set flat on his head, shuddering with excitement, whined for orders. +Andrew, after waking with difficulty his grandfather, was told to go +up and head them off. He sent the dog one way--off in a flash, he +never returned that night--and himself went another. He was not seen +again for two days. To be exact, he set out at midnight on Thursday +the 12th April, and did not return to Dryhope until eleven o'clock of +the morning of Saturday the 14th. The sheep, I may say here, came back +by themselves on the 13th, the intervening day. + +That night of the 12th April is still commemorated in Dryhope as one +of unexampled spring storm, just as a certain October night of the +next year stands yet as the standard of comparison for all equinoctial +gales. The April storm, we hear, was very short and had several +peculiar features. It arose out of a clear sky, blew up a snow-cloud +which did no more than powder the hills, and then continued to blow +furiously out of a clear sky. It was steady but inconceivably strong +while it lasted; the force and pressure of the wind did not vary until +just the end. It came from the south-east, which is the rainy quarter +in Northumberland, but without rain. It blew hard from midnight, until +three o'clock in the morning, and then, for half an hour, a hurricane. +The valley and hamlet escaped as by a miracle. Mr. Robson, the vicar, +awakened by it, heard the wind like thunder overhead and went out of +doors to observe it. He went out into a still, mild air coming from +the north-west, and still heard it roaring like a mad thing high above +him. Its direction, as he judged by sound, was the precise contrary of +the ground current. In the morning, wreckage of all kinds, branches of +trees, roots, and whole clumps of heather strewn about the village and +meadows, while showing that a furious battle had been fought out on +the fells, confirmed this suspicion. A limb of a tree, draped in ivy, +was recognised as part of an old favourite of his walks. The ash from +which it had been torn stood to the south-east of the village. In the +course of the day (the 13th) news was brought in that one of the Seven +Sisters was fallen, and that a clean drive could be seen through the +forest on the top of Knapp. Coupled with these dreadful testimonies +you have the disappearance of Andrew King to help you form your +vision of a village in consternation. + +Hear now what befell young Andrew King when he swiftly climbed the +fell, driven forward by the storm. The facts are that he was agog for +adventure, since, all unknown to any but himself, he had ventured to +the summits before, had stood by Silent Water, touched the Seven +Sisters one by one, and had even entered the dreadful, haunted, forest +of Knapp. He had had a fright, had been smitten by that sudden gripe +of fear which palsies limbs and freezes blood, which the ancients +called the Stroke of Pan, and we still call Panic after them. He had +never forgotten what he had seen, though he had lost the edge of the +fear he had. He was older now by some two years, and only waiting the +opportunity for renewed experience. He hoped to have it--and he had +it. + +The streaming gale drove him forward as a ship at sea. He ran lightly, +without fatigue or troubled breath. Dimly above him he presently saw +the seven trees, dipping and louting to the weather; but as he neared +them they had no meaning for him, did not, indeed, exist. For now he +saw more than they, and otherwise than men see trees. + + +II + +In a mild and steady light, which came from no illumination of moon or +stars, but seemed to be interfused with the air, in the strong warm +wind which wrapped the fell-top; upon a sward of bent-grass which ran +toward the tarn and ended in swept reeds he saw six young women +dancing in a ring. Not to any music that he could hear did they move, +nor was the rhythm of their movement either ordered or wild. It was +not formal dancing, and it was not at all a Bacchic rout: rather they +flitted hither and thither on the turf, now touching hands, now +straining heads to one another, crossing, meeting, parting, winding +about and about with the purposeless and untirable frivolity of moths. +They seemed neither happy nor unhappy, they made no sound; it looked +to the lad as if they had been so drifting from the beginning, and +would so drift to the end of things temporal. Their loose hair +streamed out in the wind, their light gossamer gowns streamed the same +way, whipped about their limbs as close as wet muslin. They were +bare-footed, bare-armed, and bare-headed. They all had beauty, but it +was not of earthly cast. He saw one with hair like pale silk, and one, +ruddy and fierce in the face, with snaky black hair which, he thought, +flew out beyond her for a full yard's measure. Another had +hazel-brown hair and a sharp little peering face; another's was colour +of ripe corn, and another's like a thunder-cloud, copper-tinged. About +and about they went, skimming the tops of the grasses, and Andrew +King, his heart hammering at his ribs, watched them at their play. So +by chance one saw him, and screamed shrilly, and pointed at him. + +Then they came about him like a swarm of bees, angry at first, humming +a note like that of the telegraph wire on a mountain road, but, as he +stood his ground, curiosity prevailed among them and they pried +closely at him. They touched him, felt his arms, his knees, handled +his clothing, peered into his eyes. All this he endured, though he was +in a horrible fright. Then one, the black-haired girl with a bold, +proud face, came and stood closely before him and looked him full into +his eyes. He gave her look for look. She put a hand on each shoulder +and kissed him. After that there was a tussle among them, for each +must do what her sister had done. They took a kiss apiece, or maybe +more; then, circling round him, they swept him forward on the wind, +past Silent Water, over the Edge, out on the fells, on and on and on, +and never stopped till they reached Knapp Forest, that dreadful place. + +There in the hushed aisles and glades they played with this new-found +creature, played with him, fought for him, and would have loved him if +he had been minded for such adventuring. Two in particular he marked +as desiring his closer company--the black-haired and bold was one, and +the other was the sharp-faced and slim with eyes of a mouse and +hazel-brown hair. He called her the laughing girl and thought her the +kindest of them all. But they were all his friends at this time. +Andrew King, like young Tamlane, might have sojourned with them for +ever and a day, but for one thing. He saw by chance a seventh +maiden--a white-faced, woe-begone, horror-struck Seventh Sister, +blenched and frozen under a great beech. She may have been there +throughout his commerce with the rest, or she may have been revealed +to him in a flash then and there. So as it was he saw her suddenly, +and thereafter saw no other at all. She held his eyes waking; he left +his playmates and went to her where she crouched. He stooped and took +her hand. It was as cold as a dead girl's and very heavy. Amid the +screaming of the others, undeterred by their whirling and battling, he +lifted up the frozen one. He lifted her bodily and carried her in his +arms. They swept all about him like infuriated birds. The sound of +their rage was like that of gulls about a fish in the tide-way; but +they laid no hands on him, and said nothing that he could understand, +and by this time his awe was gone, and his heart was on fire. Holding +fast to what he had and wanted, he pushed out of Knapp Forest and took +the lee-side of the Edge on his way to Dryhope. This must have been +about the time of the gale at its worst. The Seventh Sister by Silent +Water may have fallen at this time; for had not Andrew King the +Seventh Sister in his arms? + +Anxiety as to the fate of Andrew King was spread over the village and +the greatest sympathy felt for the bereaved family. To have lost a +flock of sheep, a dog, and an only child at one blow is a terrible +misfortune. Old King, I am told, was prostrated, and the girl, Bessie +Prawle, violent in her lamentations over her "lad." The only person +unmoved was the youth's mother, Miranda King the widow. She, it seems, +had no doubts of his safety, and declared that he "would come in his +time, like his father before him"--a saying which, instead of +comforting the mourners, appears to have exasperated them. Probably +they did not at all understand it. Such consolations as Mr. Robson the +minister had to offer she received respectfully, but without comment. +All she had to say was that she could trust her son; and when he urged +that she had better by far trust in God, her reply, finally and +shortly, was that God was bound by His own laws and had not given us +heads and hearts for nothing. I am free to admit that her theology +upon this point seems to me remarkably sound. + +In the course of the 13th, anxious day as it promised to be, old +George King, returning from a fruitless quest over the fells, came +upon his sheep within a few hundred yards of his own house, collected +together in a flock and under the watch of his dog. They were, in +fact, as nearly as possible where he had understood them to be before +their stampede of the previous night. He was greatly heartened by the +discovery, though unable to account for the facts of it. The dog was +excessively tired, and ate greedily. Next morning, when the family and +some neighbours were standing together on the fell-side looking up the +valley where the Dryhope burn comes down from the hills, they saw two +figures on the rough road which follows it. Mrs. King, the widow, I +believe, had seen them first, but she had said nothing. It was Bessie +Prawle who raised the first cry that "Andrew was coming, and his wife +with him." All looked in the direction she showed them and recognised +the young man. Behind him walked the figure of a woman. This is the +accustomed manner of a man and wife to walk in that country. It is +almost a proof of their relationship. Being satisfied of the identity +of their child the whole party returned to the homestead to await him +and what he was bringing with him. Speculation was rife and volubly +expressed, especially by Bessie Prawle. Miranda King, however, was +silent; but it was noticed that she kept her eyes fixed upon the woman +behind her son, and that her lips moved as if she was muttering to +herself. + +The facts were as the expectations. Andrew King brought forward a +young, timid and unknown girl as his wife. By that name he led her up +to his grandfather, then to his mother; as such he explained her to +his neighbours, including (though not by name) Bessie Prawle, who had +undoubtedly hoped to occupy that position herself. + +Old King, overcome with joy at seeing his boy alive and well, and +dazed, probably, by events, put his hands upon the girl's head and +blessed her after the patriarchal fashion there persisting. He seems +to have taken canonical marriage for granted, though nobody else did, +and though a moment's reflection, had he been capable of so much, +would have shown him that that could not be. The neighbours were too +well disposed to the family to raise any doubts or objections; Bessie +Prawle was sullen and quiet; only Miranda King seems to have been +equal to the occasion. She, as if in complete possession of facts +which satisfied every question, received the girl as an equal. She did +not kiss her or touch her, but looked deeply into her eyes for a long +space of time, and took from her again an equally searching regard; +then, turning to her father-in-law and the company at large, she said, +"This is begun, and will be done. He is like his father before him." +To that oracular utterance old King, catching probably but the last +sentence, replied, "And he couldn't do better, my child." He meant no +more than a testimony to his daughter-in-law. Mrs. King's +observations, coupled with that, nevertheless, went far to give credit +to the alleged marriage. + +The girl, so far, had said nothing whatever, though she had been +addressed with more than one rough but kindly compliment on her youth +and good looks. And now Andrew King explained that she was dumb. +Consternation took the strange form of jocular approval of his +discretion in selecting a wife who could never nag him--but it was +consternation none the less. The mystery was felt to be deeper; there +was nothing for it now but to call in the aid of the parish +priest--"the minister," as they called him--and this was done. By the +time he had arrived, Miranda King had taken the girl into the cottage, +and the young husband and his grandfather had got the neighbours to +disperse. Bessie Prawle, breathing threatenings and slaughter, had +withdrawn herself. + +Mr. Robson, a quiet sensible man of nearer sixty than fifty years, +sat in the cottage, hearing all that his parishioners could tell him +and using his eyes. He saw the centre-piece of all surmise, a +shrinking, pale slip of a girl, by the look of her not more than +fifteen or sixteen years old. She was not emaciated by any means, +seemed to be well nourished, and was quite as vigorous as any child of +that age who could have been pitted against her. Her surroundings +cowed her, he judged. To Dryhope she was a stranger, a foreigner; to +her Dryhope and the Dryhopedale folk were perilous matter. Her general +appearance was that of a child who had never had anything but +ill-usage; she flinched at every sudden movement, and followed one +about with her great unintelligent eyes, as if she was trying to +comprehend what they showed her. Her features were regular and +delicate; her brows broad and eyebrows finely arched, her chin full, +her neck slim, her hands and feet narrow and full of what fanciers +call "breed." Her hair was very long and fine, dark brown with gleams +of gold; her eyes were large, grey in colour, but, as I have said, +unintelligent, like an animal's, which to us always seem +unintelligent. I should have mentioned, for Mr. Robson noticed it at +once, that her hair was unconfined, and that, so far as he could make +out, she wore but a single garment--a sleeveless frock, confined at +the waist and reaching to her knees. It was of the colour of +unbleached flax and of a coarse web. Her form showed through, and the +faint flush of her skin. She was a finely made girl. Her legs and feet +were bare. Immodest as such an appearance would have been in one of +the village maids, he did not feel it to be so with her. Her look was +so entirely foreign to his experience that there was no standard of +comparison. Everything about her seemed to him to be quite what one +would have expected, until one came, so to speak, in touch with her +soul. That, if it lay behind her inscrutable, sightless and dumb eyes, +betrayed her. There was no hint of it. Human in form, visibly and +tangibly human, no soul sat in her great eyes that a man could +discern. That, however, is not now the point. Rather it is that, to +all appearance a modest and beautiful girl, she was remarkably +undressed. It was inconceivable that a modest and beautiful girl could +so present herself, and yet a modest and beautiful girl she was. + +Mr. Robson put it to himself this way. There are birds--for instance, +jays, kingfishers, goldfinches--which are, taken absolutely, extremely +brilliant in colouring. Yet they do not jar, are not obtrusive. So it +was with her. Her dress was, perhaps, taken absolutely, indecorous. +Upon her it looked at once seemly and beautiful. Upon Bessie Prawle it +would have been glaring; but one had to dissect it before one could +discover any fault with it upon its wearer. She was very pale, even to +the lips, which were full and parted, as if she must breathe through +her mouth. He noticed immediately the shortness of her breath. It was +very distressing, and after a little while induced the same thing in +himself. And not in him only, but I can fancy that the whole group of +them sitting round her where she was crouched against Miranda King's +knees, were panting away like steam-engines before they had done with +her. While Mr. Robson was there Miranda never took her arm off her +shoulder for a moment; but the girl's eyes were always fixed upon +Andrew, who called himself her husband, unless her apprehensions were +directly called elsewhere. In that case she would look in the required +direction for the fraction of a second, terrified and ready, as you +may say, to die at a movement, and then, her fears at rest, back to +her husband's face. + +Mr. Robson's first business was to examine Andrew King, a perfectly +honest, well-behaved lad, whom he had known from his cradle. He was +candid--up to a point. He had found her on the top of Knapp Fell, he +said; she had been with others, who ill-treated her. What others? +Others of her sort. Fairies, he said, who lived up there. He pressed +him about this. Fairies? Did he really believe in such beings? Like +all country people he spoke about these things with the utmost +difficulty, and when confronted by worldly wisdom, became dogged. He +said how could he help it when here was one? Mr. Robson told him that +he was begging the question, but he looked very blank. To the surprise +of the minister, old King--old George King, the grandfather--had no +objections to make to the suggestion of fairies on Knapp Fell. He +could not say, there was no telling; Knapp was a known place; strange +things were recorded of the forest. Miranda, his daughter-in-law, was +always a self-contained woman, with an air about her of being +forewarned. He instanced her, and the minister asked her several +questions. Being pressed, she finally said, "Sir, my son is as likely +right as wrong. We must all make up our own minds." There that matter +had to be left. + +Andrew said that he had followed the fairies from the tarn on Lammer +Fell into Knapp Forest. They had run away from him, taking this girl +of his, as he supposed, with them. He had followed them because he +meant to have her. They knew that, so had run. Why did he want her? He +said that he had seen her before. When? Oh, long ago--when he had been +up there alone. He had seen her face among the trees for a moment. +They had been hurting her; she looked at him, she was frightened, but +couldn't cry out--only look and ask. He had never forgotten her; her +looks had called him often, and he had kept his eyes wide open. Now, +when he had found her again, he determined to have her. And at last, +he said, he had got her. He had had to fight for her, for they had +been about him like hell-cats and had jumped at him as if they would +tear him to pieces, and screamed and hissed like cats. But when he had +got her in his arms they had all screamed together, once--like a +howling wind--and had flown away. + +What next? Here he became obstinate, as if foreseeing what was to be. +What next? He had married her. Married her! How could he marry a fairy +on the top of Knapp Fell? Was there a church there, by chance? Had a +licence been handy? "Let me see her lines, Andrew," Mr. Robson had +said somewhat sternly in conclusion. His answer had been to lift up +her left hand and show the thin third finger. It carried a ring, made +of plaited rush. "I put that on her," he said, "and said all the words +over her out of the book." "And you think you have married her, +Andrew?" It was put to him _ex cathedra_. He grew very red and was +silent; presently he said, "Well, sir, I do think so. But she's not my +wife yet, if that's what you mean." The good gentleman felt very much +relieved. It was satisfactory to him that he could still trust his +worthy young parishioner. + +Entirely under the influence of Miranda King, he found the family +unanimous for a real wedding. To that there were two objections to +make. He could not put up the banns of a person without a name, and +would not marry a person unbaptised. Now, to baptise an adult +something more than sponsors are requisite; there must be voluntary +assent to the doctrines of religion by the postulant. In this case, +how to be obtained? He saw no way, since it was by no means plain to +him that the girl could understand a word that was said. He left the +family to talk it over among themselves, saying, as he went out of the +door, that his confidence in their principles was so strong that he +was sure they would sanction no step which would lead the two young +people away from the church door. + +In the morning Miranda King came to him with a report that matters had +been arranged and only needed his sanction. "I can trust my son, and +see him take her with a good conscience," she told him. "She's not one +of his people, but she's one of mine; and what I have done she can do, +and is willing to do." + +The clergyman was puzzled. "What do you mean by that, Mrs. King?" he +asked her. "What are _your people_? How do they differ from mine, or +your husband's?" + +She hesitated. "Well, sir, in this way. She hasn't got your tongue, +nor my son's tongue." + +"She has none at all," said the minister; but Miranda replied, "She +can talk without her tongue." + +"Yes, my dear," he said, "but I cannot." + +"But I can," was her answer; "she can talk to me--and will talk to +you; but not yet. She's dumb for a season, she's struck so. My son +will give her back her tongue--by-and-by." + +He was much interested. He asked Miranda to tell him who had struck +her dumb. For a long time she would not answer. "We don't name +him--it's not lawful. He that has the power--the Master--I can go no +nearer." He urged her to openness, got her at last to mention "The +King of the Wood." The King of the Wood! There she stuck, and nothing +he could say could move her from that name, The King of the Wood. + +He left it so, knowing his people, and having other things to ask +about. What tongue or speech had the respectable, the staid Miranda +King in common with the scared waif? To that she answered that she +could not tell him; but that it was certain they could understand each +other. How? "By looks," she said, and added scornfully, "she's not +the kind that has to clatter with her tongue to have speech with her +kindred." + +Miranda, then, was a kinswoman! He showed his incredulity, and the +woman flushed. "See here, Mr. Robson," she said, "I am of the sea, and +she of the fell, but we are the same nation. We are not of yours, but +you can make us so. Directly I saw her I knew what she was; and so did +she know me. How? By the eyes and understanding. I felt who she was. +As she is now so was I once. As I am now so will she be. I'll answer +for her; I'm here to do it. When once I'd followed my man I never +looked back; no more will she. The woman obeys the man--that's the +law. If a girl of your people was taken with a man of mine she'd lose +her speech and forsake her home and ways. That's the law all the world +over. God Almighty's self, if He were a woman, would do the same. He +couldn't help it. The law is His; but He made it so sure that not +Himself could break it." + +"What law do you mean?" she was asked. She said, "The law of life. The +woman follows the man." + +This proposition he was not prepared to deny, and the end of it was +that Mr. Robson baptised the girl, taking Miranda for godmother. +Mabilla they called her by her sponsor's desire, "Mabilla +By-the-Wood," and as such she was published and married. You may be +disposed to blame him for lightness of conscience, but I take leave to +tell you that he had had the cure of souls in Dryhope for +five-and-thirty years. He claimed on that score to know his people. +The more he knew of them, the less he was able to question the lore of +such an one as Miranda King. And he might remind you that Mabilla King +is alive to this hour, a wife and mother of children. That is a fact, +and it is also a fact, as I am about to tell you, that she had a hard +fight to win such peace. + +Married, made a woman, she lost her haunted look and gained some +colour in her cheeks. She lost her mortal chill. Her clothing, the +putting up of her hair made some difference, but loving entreaty all +the difference in the world. To a casual glance there was nothing but +refinement to distinguish her from her neighbours, to a closer one +there was more than that. Her eyes, they said, had the far, intent, +rapt gaze of a wild animal. They seemed to search minutely, reaching +beyond our power of vision, to find there things beyond our human ken. +But whereas the things which she looked at, invisible to us, caused +her no dismay, those within our range, the most ordinary and +commonplace, filled her with alarm. Her eyes, you may say, communed +with the unseen, and her soul followed their direction and dwelt +remote from her body. She was easily startled, not only by what she +saw but by what she heard. Nobody was ever more sensitive to sound. +They say that a piano-tuner goes not by sound, but by the vibrations +of the wire, which he is able to test without counting. It was so with +her. She seemed to feel the trembling of the circumambient air, and to +know by its greater or less intensity that something--and very often +what thing in particular--was affecting it. All her senses were +preternaturally acute--she could see incredible distances, hear, +smell, in a way that only wild nature can. Added to these, she had +another sense, whereby she could see what was hidden from us and +understand what we could not even perceive. One could guess as much, +on occasions, by the absorbed intensity of her gaze. But when she was +with her husband (which was whenever he would allow it) she had no +eyes, ears, senses or thoughts for any other living thing, seen or +unseen. She followed him about like a dog, and when that might not be +her eyes followed him. Sometimes, when he was afield with his sheep, +they saw her come out of the cottage and slink up the hedgerow to the +fell's foot. She would climb the brae, search him out, and then crouch +down and sit watching him, never taking her eyes off him. When he was +at home her favourite place was at his feet. She would sit huddled +there for hours, and his hand would fall upon her hair or rest on her +shoulder; and you could see the pleasure thrilling her, raying out +from her--just as you can see, as well as hear, a cat purring by the +fire. He used to whisper in her ear as if she was a child: like a +child she used to listen and wonder. Whether she understood him or no +it was sometimes the only way of soothing her. Her trembling stopped +at the sound of his voice, and her eyes left off staring and showed +the glow of peace. For whole long evenings they sat close together, +his hand upon her hair and his low voice murmuring in her ear. + +This much the neighbours report and the clergyman confirms, as also +that all went well with the young couple for the better part of two +years. The girl grew swiftly towards womanhood, became sleek and +well-liking; had a glow and a promise of ripeness which bid fair to be +redeemed. A few omens, however, remained, disquieting when those who +loved her thought of them. One was that she got no human speech, +though she understood everything that was said to her; another that +she showed no signs of motherhood; a third that Bessie Prawle could +not abide her. She alone of all the little community avoided the King +household, and scowled whensoever she happened to cross the path of +this gentle outland girl. Jealousy was presumed the cause; but I +think there was more in it than that. I think that Bessie Prawle +believed her to be a witch. + + +III + +To eyes prepared for coming disaster things small in themselves loom +out of a clear sky portentous. Such eyes had not young Andrew King the +bride-groom, a youth made man by love, secure in his treasure and +confident in his power of keeping what his confidence had won. Such +eyes may or may not have had Mabilla, though hers seemed to be centred +in her husband, where he was or where he might be. George King was old +and looked on nothing but his sheep, or the weather as it might affect +his sheep. Miranda King, the self-contained, stoic woman, had schooled +her eyes to see her common duties. Whatever else she may have seen she +kept within the door of her shut lips. She may have known what was +coming, she must have known that whatever came had to come. Bessie +Prawle, however, with hatred, bitter fear and jealousy to sharpen her, +saw much. + +Bessie Prawle was a handsome, red-haired girl, deep in the breast, +full-eyed and of great colour. Her strength was remarkable. She could +lift a heifer into a cart, and had once, being dared to it, carried +Andrew King up the brae in her arms. The young man, she supposed, +owed her a grudge for that; she believed herself unforgiven, and saw +in this sudden marriage of his a long-meditated act of revenge. By +that in her eyes (and as she thought, in the eyes of all Dryhope) he +had ill-requited her, put her to unthinkable shame. She saw herself +with her favours of person and power passed over for a nameless, +haunted, dumb thing, a stray from some other world into a world of +men, women, and the children they rear to follow them. She scorned +Mabilla for flinching so much, she scorned her for not flinching more. +That Mabilla could be desirable to Andrew King made her scoff; that +Andrew King should not know her dangerous kept her awake at night. + +For the world seemed to her a fearful place since Mabilla had been +brought into it. There were signs everywhere. That summer it thundered +out of a clear sky. Once in the early morning she had seen a bright +light above the sun--a mock sun which shone more fiercely than a fire +in daylight. She heard wild voices singing; on still days she saw the +trees in Knapp Forest bent to a furious wind. When Mabilla crept up +the fell on noiseless feet to spy for Andrew King, Bessie Prawle heard +the bents hiss and crackle under her, as if she set them afire. + +Next summer, too, there were portents. There was a great drought, so +great that Dryhope burn ran dry, and water had to be fetched from a +distance for the sheep. There were heather fires in many places; smut +got into the oats, and a plague of caterpillars attacked the trees so +that in July they were leafless, and there was no shade. There was no +pasture for the kine, which grew lean and languid. Their bones stuck +out through their skin; they moaned as they lay on the parched earth, +and had not strength enough to swish at the clouds of flies. They had +sores upon them, which festered and spread. If Mabilla, the nameless +wife, was not responsible for this, who could be? Perhaps Heaven was +offended with Dryhope on account of Andrew King's impiety. Bessie +believed that Mabilla was a witch. + +She followed the girl about, spying on everything she did. Once, at +least, she came upon her lying in the heather. She was plaiting rushes +together into a belt, and Bessie thought she was weaving a spell and +sprang upon her. The girl cowered, very white, and Bessie Prawle, her +heart on fire, gave tongue to all her bitter thoughts. The witch-wife, +fairy-wife, child or whatever she was seemed to wither as a flower in +a hot wind. Bessie Prawle towered above her in her strength, and +gained invective with every fierce breath she took. Her blue eyes +burned, her bosom heaved like the sea; her arm bared to the shoulder +could have struck a man down. Yet in the midst of her frenzied speech, +in full flow, she faltered. Her fists unclenched themselves, her arm +dropped nerveless, her eyes sought the ground. Andrew King, pale with +rage, sterner than she had ever seen him, stood before her. + +He looked at her with deadly calm. + +"Be out of this," he said; "you degrade yourself. Never let me see you +again." Before she had shrunk away he had stooped to the huddled +creature at his feet, had covered her with his arms and was whispering +urgent comfort in her ear, caressing her with voice and hands. Bessie +Prawle could not show herself to the neighbours for the rest of the +summer and early autumn. She became a solitary; the neighbours said +that she was in a decline. + +The drought, with all the troubles it entailed of plague, pestilence +and famine, continued through August and September. It did not really +break till All-Hallow's, and then, indeed, it did. + +The day had been overcast, with a sky of a coppery tinge, and +intensely dry heat; a chance puff of wind smote one in the face, hot +as the breath of a man in fever. The sheep panted on the ground, their +dry tongues far out of their mouths; the beasts lay as if dead, and +flies settled upon them in clouds. All the land was of one glaring +brown, where the bents were dry straw, and the heather first burnt +and then bleached pallid by the sun. The distance was blurred in a +reddish lurid haze; Knapp Fell and its forest were hidden. + +Mabilla, the dumb girl, had been restless all day, following Andrew +about like a shadow. The heat had made him irritable; more than once +he had told her to go home and she had obeyed him for the time, but +had always come back. Her looks roamed wide; she seemed always +listening; sometimes it was clear that she heard something--for she +panted and moved her lips. There was deep trouble in her eyes too; she +seemed full of fear. At almost any other time her husband would have +noticed it and comforted her. But his nerves, fretted by the long +scorching summer, were on this day of fire stretched to the cracking +point. He saw nothing, and felt nothing, but his own discomfort. + +Out on the parched fell-side Bessie Prawle sat like a bird of omen and +gloomed at the wrath to come. + +Toward dusk a wind came moaning down the valley, raising little spires +of dust. It came now down, now up. Sometimes two currents met each +other and made momentary riot. But farm-work has to get itself done +through fair or foul. It grew dark, the sheep were folded and fed, the +cattle were got in, and the family sat together in the kitchen, +silent, preoccupied, the men oppressed and anxious over they knew not +what. As for those two aliens, Miranda King and Mabilla By-the-Wood, +whatever they knew, one of them made no sign at all, and the other, +though she was white, though she shivered and peered about, had no +means of voicing her thought. + +They had their tea and settled to their evening tasks. The old +shepherd dozed over his pipe, Miranda knitted fast, Mabilla stared out +of the window into the dark, twisting her hands, and Andrew, with one +of his hands upon her shoulder, patted her gently, as if to soothe +her. She gave him a grateful look more than once, but did not cease to +shiver. Nobody spoke, and suddenly in the silence Mabilla gasped and +began to tremble. Then the dog growled under the table. All looked up +and about them. + +A scattering, pattering sound lashed at the window. Andrew then +started up. "Rain!" he said; "that's what we're waiting for," and made +to go to the door. Miranda his mother, and Mabilla his young wife, +caught him by the frock and held him back. The dog, staring into the +window-pane, bristling and glaring, continued to growl. They waited in +silence, but with beating hearts. + +A loud knock sounded suddenly on the door--a dull, heavy blow, as if +one had pounded it with a tree-stump. The dog burst into a panic of +barking, flew to the door and sniffed at the threshold. He whined and +scratched frantically with his forepaws. The wind began to blow, +coming quite suddenly down, solid upon the wall of the house, shaking +it upon its foundations. George King was now upon his feet. "Good God +Almighty!" he said, "this is the end of the world!" + +The blast was not long-lived. It fell to a murmur. Andrew King, now at +the window, could see nothing of the rain. There were no drops upon +the glass, nor sound upon the sycamores outside. But even while he +looked, and his grandfather, all his senses alert, waited for what was +to come, and the two pale women clung together, knowing what was to +come, there grew gradually another sound which, because it was +familiar, brought their terrors sharply to a point. + +It was the sound of sheep in a flock running. It came from afar and +grew in volume and distinctness; the innumerable small thudding of +sharp hoofs, the rustling of woolly bodies, the volleying of short +breath, and that indefinable sense of bustle which massed things +produce, passing swiftly. + +The sheep came on, panic-driven, voiceless in their fear, but speaking +aloud in the wildly clanging bells; they swept by the door of the +house with a sound like the rush of water; they disappeared in that +flash of sound. Old King cried, "Man, 'tis the sheep!" and flew for +his staff and shoes. Miranda followed to fetch them; but Andrew went +to the door as he was, shaking off his clinging wife, unlatched it and +let in a gale of wind. The dog shot out like a flame of fire and was +gone. + +It was as if the wind which was driving the sheep was going to scour +the house. It came madly, with indescribable force; it rushed into the +house, blew the window-curtains toward the middle of the room, drove +the fire outward and set the ashes whirling like snow all about. +Andrew King staggered before it a moment, then put his head down and +beat his way out. Mabilla shuddering shrank backward to the fireplace +and crouched there, waiting. Old King came out booted and cloaked, his +staff in his hand, battled to the door and was swept up the brae upon +the gale. Miranda did not appear; so Mabilla, white and rigid, was +alone in the whirling room. + +Creeping to her through the open door, holding to whatever solid thing +she could come by, entered Bessie Prawle. In all that turmoil and +chill terror she alone was hot. Her grudge was burning in her. She +could have killed Mabilla with her eyes. + +But she did not, for Mabilla was in the hands of greater and stronger +powers. Before Bessie Prawle's shocked eyes she was seen rigid and +awake. She was seen to cower as to some threatening shape, then to +stiffen, to mutter with her dry lips, and to grow still, to stare with +her wide eyes, and then to see nothing. A glaze swam over her eyes; +they were open, but as the eyes of the dead. + +Bessie Prawle, horror-struck, stretched out her arms to give her +shelter. All her honest humanity was reborn in her in this dreadful +hour. "My poor lass, I'll not harm ye," she was saying; but Mabilla +had begun to move. She moved as a sleep-walker, seeing but not seeing +her way; she moved as one who must, not as one who would. She went +slowly as if drawn to the open door. Bessie never tried to stop her; +she could not though she would. Slowly as if drawn she went to the +door, staring before her, pale as a cloth, rigid as a frozen thing. At +the threshold she swayed for a moment in the power of the storm; then +she was sucked out like a dried leaf and was no more seen. Overhead, +all about the eaves of the house the great wind shrilled mockery and +despairing mirth. The fire leapt toward the middle of the room and +fell back so much white ash. Bessie Prawle plumped down to her knees, +huddled, and prayed. + +Andrew King, coming back, found her there at it, alone. His eyes swept +the room. "Mabilla! Bessie Prawle, where is Mabilla?" The girl huddled +and prayed on. He took her by the shoulder and shook her to and fro. +"You foul wench, you piece, this is your doing." Bessie sobbed her +denials, but he would not hear her. Snatching up a staff, he turned, +threw her down in his fury. He left the house and followed the wind. + +The wind caught him the moment he was outside, and swept him onward +whether he would or not. He ran down the bank of the beck which seemed +to be racing him for a prize, leaping and thundering level with its +banks; before he had time to wonder whether the bridge still stood he +was up with it, over it and on the edge of the brae. Up the moorland +road he went, carried rather than running, and where it loses itself +in the first enclosure, being hard up against the wall, over he +vaulted, across the field and over the further wall. Out then upon the +open fell, where the heather makes great cushions, and between all of +them are bogs or stones, he was swept by the wind. It shrieked about +him and carried him up and over as if he were a leaf of autumn. Beyond +that was dangerous ground, but there was no stopping; he was caught in +the flood of the gale. He knew very well, however, whither it was +carrying him: to Knapp, that place of dread, whither he was now sure +Mabilla had been carried, resumed by her own people. There was no +drawing back, there was no time for prayer. All he could do was to +keep his feet. + +He was carried down the Dryhope fell, he said, into the next valley, +swept somehow over the roaring beck in the bottom, and up the rugged +side of Knapp, where the peat-hags are as high as rocks, and presently +knew without the help of his eyes that he was nearing the forest. He +heard the swishing of the trees, the cracking of the boughs, the sharp +crack and crash which told of some limb torn off and sent to ruin; and +he knew also by some hush not far off that the wind, great and furious +as it was, was to be quieted within that awful place. It was so. He +stood panting upon the edge of the wood, out of the wind, which roared +away overhead. He twittered with his foolish lips, not knowing what on +earth to do, nor daring to do anything had he known it; but all the +prayers he had ever learned were driven clean out of his head. + +He could dimly make out the tree-trunks immediately before him, low +bushes, shelves of bracken-fern; he could pierce somewhat into the +gloom beyond and see the solemn trees ranked in their order, and above +them a great soft blackness rent here and there to show the sky. The +volleying of the storm sounded like the sea heard afar off: it was so +remote and steady a noise that lesser sounds were discernible--the +rustlings, squeakings, and snappings of small creatures moving over +small undergrowth. Every one of these sent his heart leaping to his +mouth; but all his fears were to be swallowed up in amazement, for as +he stood there distracted, without warning, without shock, there stood +one by him, within touching distance, a child, as he judged it, with +loose hair and bright eyes, prying into his face, smiling at him and +inviting him to come on. + +"Who in God's name--?" cried Andrew King; but the child plucked him +by the coat and tried to draw him into the wood. + +I understand that he did not hesitate. If he had forgotten his gods he +had not forgotten his fairy-wife. I suppose, too, that he knew where +to look for her; he may have supposed that she had been resumed into +her first state. At any rate, he made his way into the forest by +guess-work, aided by reminiscence. I believe he was accustomed to aver +that he "knew where she was very well," and that he took a straight +line to her. I have seen Knapp Forest and doubt it. He did, however, +find himself in the dark spaces of the wood and there, sure enough, he +did also see the women with whom his Mabilla had once been co-mate. +They came about him, he said, like angry cats, hissing and shooting +out their lips. They did not touch him; but if eyes and white hateful +faces could have killed him, dead he had been then and there. + +He called upon God and Christ and made a way through them. His senses +had told him where Mabilla was. He found her pale and trembling in an +aisle of the trees. She leaned against a tall tree, perfectly rigid, +"as cold as a stone," staring across him with frozen eyes, her mouth +open like a round O. He took her in his arms and holding her close +turned and defied the "witches"--so he called them in his wrath. He +dared them in the name of God to touch him or his wife, and as he did +so he says that he felt the chill grow upon him. It took him, he said, +in the legs and ran up his body. It stiffened his arms till they felt +as if they must snap under the strain; it caught him in the neck and +fixed it. He felt his eyes grow stiff and hard; he felt himself sway. +"Then," he said, "the dark swam over me, the dark and the bitter cold, +and I knew nothing more." Questioned as he was by Mr. Robson and his +friends, he declared that it was at the name of God the cold got him +first. He saw the women hushed and scared, and at the same time one of +them looked over her shoulder, as if somebody was coming. Had he +called in the King of the Wood? That is what he himself thought. It +was the King of the Wood who had come in quest of Mabilla, had pulled +her out of the cottage in Dryhope and frozen her in the forest. It was +he, no doubt, said Andrew King, who had come to defy the Christian +and his God. I detect here the inspiration of his mother Miranda, the +strange sea-woman who knew Mabilla without mortal knowledge and spoke +to her in no mortal speech. But the sequel to the tale is a strange +one. + +Andrew King awoke to find himself in Mabilla's arms, to hear for the +first time in his life Mabilla call him softly by his name. "Andrew, +my husband," she called him, and when he opened his eyes in wonder to +hear her she said, "Andrew, take me home now. It is all over," or +words to that effect. They went along the forest and up and down the +fells together. The wind had dropped, the stars shone. And together +they took up their life where they had dropped it, with one +significant omission in its circumstance. Bessie Prawle had +disappeared from Dryhope. She had followed him up the fell on the +night of the storm, but she came not back. And they say that she never +did. Nothing was found of her body, though search was made; but a comb +she used to wear was picked up, they say, by the tarn on Limmer Fell, +an imitation tortoise-shell comb which used to hold up her hair. +Miranda King, who knew more than she would ever tell, had a shrewd +suspicion of the truth of the case. But Andrew King knew nothing, and +I daresay cared very little. He had his wood-wife, and she had her +voice; and between them, I believe, they had a child within the year. + +I ought to add that I have, with these eyes, seen Mabilla By-the-Wood +who became Mabilla King. When I went from Dryhopedale to Knapp Forest +she stood at the farmhouse door with a child in her arms. Two others +were tumbling about in the croft. She was a pretty, serious girl--for +she looked quite a girl--with a round face and large greyish-blue +eyes. She had a pink cotton dress on, and a good figure beneath it. +She was pale, but looked healthy and strong. Not a tall girl. I asked +her the best way to Knapp Forest and she came out to the gate to point +it to me. She talked simply, with a northern accent, and might have +been the child of generations of borderers. She pointed me the very +track by which Andrew King must have brought her home, by which the +King of the Wood swept her out on the wings of his wrath; she named +the tarn where once she dwelt as the spirit of a tree. All this +without a flush, a tremor or a sign in her blue eyes that she had ever +known the place. But these people are close, and seldom betray all +that they know or think. + + + + +OREADS + + +I end this little book with an experience of my own, or rather a +series of experiences, and will leave conclusions to a final chapter. +I don't say that I have no others which could have found a +place--indeed, there are many others. But they were fitful, momentary +things, unaccountable and unrelated to each other, without the main +clue which in itself is too intimate a thing to be revealed just yet, +and I am afraid of compiling a catalogue. I have travelled far and +wide across Europe in my day, not without spiritual experiences. If at +some future time these co-ordinate into a body of doctrine I will take +care to clothe that body in the vesture of print and paper. Here, +meantime, is something of recent years. + +My house at Broad Chalke stands in a narrow valley, which a little +stream waters more than enough. This valley is barely a mile broad +throughout its length, and in my village scarcely half so much. I can +be in the hills in a quarter of an hour, and in five-and-twenty +minutes find myself deeply involved, out of sight of man or his +contrivances. The downs in South Wilts are nowhere lofty, and have +none of the abrupt grandeur of those which guard the Sussex coast and +weald; but they are of much larger extent, broader, longer, more +untrodden, made much more intricate by the numberless creeks and +friths which, through some dim cycle of antiquity, the sea, ebbing +gradually to the great Avon delta, must have graved. Beautiful, with +quiet and a solemn peacefulness of their own, they always are. They +endure enormously, _in saecula saeculorum_. Storms drive over them, +mists and rains blot them out; rarely they are shrouded in a fleece of +snow. In spring the clouds and the light hold races up their flanks; +in summer they seem to drowse like weary monsters in the still and +fervent heat. They are never profoundly affected by such changes of +Nature's face; grow not awful, sharing her wrath, nor dangerously fair +when she woos them with kisses to love. They are the quiet and sober +spokesmen of earth, clad in Quaker greys and drabs. They show no +crimson at sunset, no gilded livery at dawn. The grey deepens to cool +purple, the brown glows to russet at such festal times. Early in the +spring they may drape themselves in tender green, or show their sides +dappled with the white of sheep. Flowers they bear, but secretly; +little curious orchids, bodied like bees, eyed like spiders, flecked +with the blood-drops of Attis or Adonis or some murdered +shepherd-boy; pale scabious, pale cowslip, thyme that breathes sharp +fragrance, "aromatic pain," as you crush it, potentilla, lady's +slipper, cloudy blue milkwort, toad-flax that shows silver to the +wind. Such as these they flaunt not, but wear for choiceness. You +would not see them unless you knew them there. For denizens they have +the hare, the fox, and the badger. Redwings, wheatears, peewits, and +airy kestrels are the people of their skies. + +I love above all the solitude they keep, and to feel the pulsing of +the untenanted air. The shepherd and his sheep, the limping hare, +lagging fox, wheeling, wailing plover; such will be your company: you +may dip deeply into valleys where no others will be by, hear the sound +of your own heart, or the shrilling of the wind in the upland bents. I +have heard, indeed, half a mile above me, the singing of the great +harps of wire which stretch from Sarum to Shaftesbury along the +highest ridge; but such a music is no disturbance of the peace; +rather, it assures you of solitude, for you wouldn't hear it were you +not ensphered with it alone. There's a valley in particular, lying +just under Chesilbury, where I choose most to be. Chesilbury, a huge +grass encampment, three hundred yards square, with fosse and rampart +still sharp, with a dozen gateways and three mist-pools within its +ambit, which stands upon the ancient road and dominates two valleys. +Below that, coming up from the south, is my charmed valley. There, I +know, the beings whom I call Oreads, for want of a homelier word, +haunt and are to be seen now and then. I know, because I myself have +seen them. + +I must describe this Oread-Valley more particularly, I believe. East +and west, above it, runs the old road we call the Race-Plain--the +highest ground hereabouts, rising from Harnham by Salisbury to end at +Shaftesbury in Dorset. North of this ridge is Chesilbury Camp; +immediately south of that is the valley. Here the falling flood as it +drained away must have sucked the soil out sharply at two neighbouring +points, for this valley has two heads, and between them stands a +grass-grown bluff. The western vale-head is quite round but very +steep. It faces due south and has been found grateful by thorns, +elders, bracken and even heather. But the eastern head is sharper, +begins almost in a point. From that it sweeps out in a huge demi-lune +of cliff, the outer cord being the east, the inner hugging the bluff. +Facing north from the valley, facing these two heads, you see the +eastern of them like a great amphitheatre, its steep embayed side so +smooth as to seem the work of men's hands. It is too steep for turf; +it is grey with marl, and patchy where scree of flint and chalk has +run and found a lodgment. Ice-worn it may be, man-wrought it is not. +No red-deer picks have been at work there, no bright-eyed, scrambling +hordes have toiled their shifts or left traces through the centuries +as at the Devil's Dyke. This noble arena is Nature's. Here I saw her +people more than once. And the first sign I had of them was this. + + +I + +I was here alone one summer's night; a night of stars, but without a +moon. I lay within the scrub of the western valley-head and looked +south. I could just see the profile of the enfolding hills, but only +just; could guess that in the soft blackness below me, filling up the +foreground like a lake, the valley was there indeed; realise that if I +stepped down, perhaps thirty yards or so, my feet would sink into the +pile of the turf-carpet, and feel the sharp benediction of the dew. +About me surged and beat an enormous silence. The only sound at +all--and that was fitful--came from a fern-owl which, from a +thorn-bush above me, churred softly and at intervals his content with +the night. + +The stars were myriad, but sky-marks shone out; the Bear, the Belt, +the Chair, the dancing sister Pleiades. The Galaxy was like a +snow-cloud; startlingly, by one, by two, meteors flared a short +course and died. You never feel lonely when you have the stars; yet +they do not pry upon you. You can hide nothing from them, and need not +seek to hide. If they have foreknowledge, they nurse no after-thought. + +Now, to-night, as I looked and wondered at their beauty, I became +aware of a phenomenon untold before. Yet so quietly did it come, and +so naturally, that it gave me no disturbance, nor forced itself upon +me. A luminous ring, a ring of pale fire, in shape a long, narrow, and +fluctuating oval, became discernible in the sky south of my +stand-point, midway (I thought) between me and the south. + +It was diaphanous, or diaphanous to strong light behind it. At one +time I saw the great beacon of the south-west (Saturn, I think) +burning through it; not within the ring, but from behind the litten +vapour of which the ring was made. Lesser fires than his were put out +by it. It varied very much in shape as it spread or drew out, as a +smoker's blue rings are varied by puffs of wind. Now it was a perfect +round, now so long as to be less a hoop than a fine oblong. Sometimes +it was pear-shaped, sometimes amorphous; bulbous here, hollow there. +And there seemed movement; I thought now and again that it was spiral +as well as circular, that it might, under some stress of speed, +writhe upward like dust in a whirlwind. It wavered, certainly, in +elevation, lifting, sinking, wafted one way or another with the ease +of a cloud of gnats. It was extraordinarily beautiful and exciting. I +watched it for an hour. + +At times I seemed to be conscious of more than appearance. I cannot +speak more definitely than that. Music was assuredly in my head, very +shrill, piercing, continuous music. No air, no melody, but the +expectancy of an air, preparation for it, a prelude to melodious +issues. You may say the overture to some vast aerial symphony; I know +not what else to call it. I was never more than alive to it, never +certain of it. It was as furtive, secret, and tremulous as the dawn +itself. Now, just as under that shivering and tentative opening of +great music you are conscious of the fierce energy of violins, so was +I aware, in this surmise of music, of wild forces which made it. I +thought not of voices but of wings. I was sure that this ring of flame +whirled as well as floated in the air; the motion and the sound, alike +indecipherable, were one and the same to me. + +I watched it, I say, for an hour: it may have been for two hours. +By-and-by it came nearer, gradually very near. It was now dazzling, +not to be looked at full; but its rate of approach was inappreciable, +and as it came on I was able to peer into it and see nothing but its +beauty. There was a core of intensity, intolerably bright; about that, +lambency but no flame, in which I saw leaves and straws and fronds of +fern flickering, spiring, heeling over and over. That it whirled as +well as floated was now clear, for a strong wind blew before and after +it as it rushed by. This happened as I sat there. Blinding but not +burning, heralded by a keen wind, it came by me and passed; a swift +wind followed it as it went. It swept out toward the hollow of the +eastern valley-head, seemed to strike upon that and glance upward; +thence it swept gladly up, streaming to the zenith, grew thin, fine +and filmy, and seemed to melt into the utmost stars. I had seen +wonders and went home full of thought. + + +II + +I first saw an Oread in this place in a snow-storm which, driven by a +north-westerly gale, did havoc to the lowlands, but not to the folded +hills. I had pushed up the valley in the teeth of the storm to see it +under the white stress. It was hard work for me and my dog; I had to +wade knee-deep, and he to jump, like a cat in long grass, through the +drifts. But we reached our haven and found shelter from the weather. +High above us where we stood the snow-flakes tossed and rioted, but +before they fell upon us being out of the wind, they drifted idly +down, _come ... in Alpe senza vento_. The whole valley was purely +white, its outlines blurred by the slant-driving snow. There was not a +living creature to be seen, and my dog, a little sharp-nosed black +beast, shivered as he looked about, with wide eyes and quick-set ears, +for a friendly sight, and held one paw tentatively in the air, as if +he feared the cold. + +Suddenly he yelped once, and ran, limping on three legs or scuttling +on all four, over the snow toward the great eastern escarpment, but +midway stopped and looked with all his might into its smoothed hollow. +His jet-black ears stood sharp as a hare's; through the white scud I +was conscious that he trembled. He gazed into the sweep of the curving +hill, and following the direction he gave me, all my senses quick, I +gazed also, but for a while saw nothing. + +Very gradually, without alarm on my part, a blur of colour seemed to +form itself and centre in one spot, half-way up the concave of the +down; very pale yellow, a soft, lemon colour. At first scarcely more +than a warm tinge to the snow, it took shape as I watched it, and then +body also. It was now opaque within semi-transparency; one could trace +an outline, a form. Then I made out of it a woman dressed in yellow; a +slim woman, tawny-haired, in a thin smock of lemon-yellow which +flacked and bellied in the gale. Her hair blew out to it in snaky +streamers, sideways. Her head was bent to meet the cold, her bare +white arms were crossed, and hugged her shoulders, as if to keep her +bosom warm. From mid-thigh downward she was bare and very white, yet +distinct upon the snow. That was the white of chilled flesh I could +see. Though she wore but a single garment, and that of the thinnest +and shortest, though she suffered cold, hugged herself and shivered, +she was not of our nature, to die of such exposure. Her eyes, as I +could guess, were long-enduring and steadfast. Her lips were not blue, +though her teeth seemed to chatter; she was not rigid with the +stiffening that precedes frozen death. Drawing near her by degrees, +coming within fifteen yards of where she stood and passioned, though +she saw me, waited for me, in a way expected me, she showed neither +fear nor embarrassment, nor appealed by looks for shelter. She was, +rather, like a bird made tame by winter, that finds the lesser fear +swallowed up in a greater. For myself, as when one finds one's self +before a new thing, one stands and gazes, so was I before this being +of the wild. I would go no nearer, speak I could not. But I had no +fear. She was new to me not strange. I felt that she and I belonged to +worlds apart; that as soon might I hope to be familiar with fox or +marten as with her. My little black dog was of the same mind. He was +glad when I joined him, and wagged his little body--tail he has +none--to say so. But he had no eyes for me, nor I for him. We stood +together for company, and filled our eyes with the tenant of the +waste. How long we watched her I have no notion, but the day fell +swiftly in and found us there. + +She was, I take it, quite young, she was slim and of ordinary +proportions. When I say that I mean that she had nothing inhuman about +her stature, was neither giant nor pygmy. Whether she was what we call +good-looking or not I find it impossible to determine, for when +strangeness is so added to beauty as to absorb and transform it, our +standards are upset and balances thrown out. She was pale to the lips, +had large, fixed and patient eyes. Her arms and legs showed greyish in +the white storm, but where the smock was cut off the shadows it made +upon her were faintly warm. One of her knees was bent, the foot +supported only by the toes. The other was firm upon the ground: she +looked, to the casual eye, to be standing on one leg. Her eyes in a +stare covered me, but were not concerned to see me so near. They had +the undiscerning look of one whose mind is numbed, as hers might well +be. Shelter--a barn, a hayrick--lay within a mile of her; and yet she +chose to suffer the cold, and was able to endure it. She knew it, I +supposed, for a thing not to be avoided; she took it as it came--as +she would have taken the warmth and pleasure of the sun. We humankind +with our wits for ever turned inward to ourselves, grieve or exult as +we bid ourselves: she, like all other creatures else, was not in that +self-relation; her parts were closer-knit, and could not separate to +envisage each other. So, at least, I read her--that she lived as she +could and as she must, neither looked back with regret nor forward +with longing. Time present, the flashing moment, was all her being. +That state will never be ours again. + +I discovered before nightfall what she waited for there alone in the +cruel weather. A moving thing emerged from the heart of the white +fury, came up the valley along the shelving down: a shape like hers, +free-moving, thinly clad, suffering yet not paralysed by the storm. It +shaped as a man, a young man, and her mate. Taller, darker, stoutlier +made, his hardy legs were browner, and so were his arms--crossed like +hers over his breast and clasping his shoulders. His head was bare, +dark and crisply covered with short hair. His smock whipped about him +before, as the wind drove it; behind him it flacked and fluttered like +a flag. Patiently forging his way, bowing his head to the gale, he +came into range; and she, aware of him, waited. + +He came directly to her. They greeted by touchings. He stretched out +his hands to her, touched her shoulders and sides. He touched both her +cheeks, her chin, the top of her head, all with the flat of the palm. +He stroked her wet and streaming hair. He held her by the shoulders +and peered into her face, then put both arms about her and drew her to +him. She, who had so far made no motions of her own, now uncrossed her +arms and daintily touched him in turn. She put both her palms flat +upon his breast; next on his thighs, next, being within the circle of +his arms, she put up her hands and cupped his face. Then, with a +gesture like a sigh, she let them fall to his waist, fastened them +about him and let her head lie on his bosom. She shut her eyes, seemed +contented and appeased. He clasped her, with a fine, protecting air +upon him, looking down tenderly at her resting head. So they stood +together in the dusk, while the wind tore at their thin covering, and +the snow, lying, made a broad patch of white upon his shoulder. + +Breathless I looked at them, and my dog forgot to be cold. High on his +haunches, with lifted forepaw and sharp-cocked ears, he watched, +trembled and whined. + +After a while, impatient as it appeared of the ravaging storm, the +male drew the female to the ground. They used no language, as we +understand it, and made no sign that I could see, but rather sank +together to get the shelter of the drift. He lay upon the snow, upon +the weather side, she close beside him. They crouched like two birds +in a storm, and hid their heads under their interlacing arms. He gave +the weather his back, and raised himself on his elbow, the better to +shield her. Within his arm she lay and cuddled to him snugly. I can +describe his action no more closely than by saying that he covered her +as a hen her chick. As a partridge grouts with her wings in a dusty +furrow, so he worked in the powdered snow to make her a nest. When the +night fell upon them, with its promise of bitter frost in the +unrelenting wind, she lay screened against its rigours by the shelter +of him. They were very still. Their heads were together, their cheeks +touched. I believe that they slept. + + +III + +In the autumn, in harvest-time, I saw her with a little one. She was +lying now, deeply at ease, in the copse wood of the valley-head, +within a nest of brake-fern, and her colouring was richer, more in +tune with the glory of the hour. She had a burnt glow in her cheeks; +her hair showed the hue of the corn which, not a mile away, our people +were reaping afield. From where we were, she and I, one could hear the +rattle of the machine as it swept down the tall and serried wheat. It +was the top of noon when I found her; the sun high in heaven, but so +fierce in his power that you saw him through a mist of his own making, +and the sky all about him white as a sea-fog. The Oread's body was +sanguine brown, only her breast, which I saw half-revealed through a +slit in her smock, was snowy white. It was the breast of a maiden, not +of a mother with a young child. + +She leaned over it and watched it asleep. Once or twice she touched +its head in affection; then presently looked up and saw me. If I had +had no surprise coming upon her, neither now had she. Her eyes took me +in, as mine might take in a tree not noticed before, or a flowering +bush, or a finger-post. Such things might well be there, and might +well not be; I had no particular interest for her, and gave her no +alarm. Nothing assures me so certainly of her remoteness from myself, +and of my kinship with her too, as this absence of shock. + +She allowed me to come nearer, and nearer still, to stand close over +her and examine the child. She did not lift her head, but I knew that +she was aware of me; for her eyelids lifted and fell quickly, and +showed me once or twice her watchful eyes. She was indeed a beautiful +creature, exquisite in make and finish. Her skin shone like the petals +of certain flowers. There is one especially, called _Sisyrinchium_, +whose common name of Satin-flower describes a surface almost metallic +in its lustre. I thought of that immediately: her skin drank in and +exhaled light. I could not hit upon the stuff of which her shift was +made. It looked like coarse silk, had a web, had fibres or threads. It +may have been flax, but that it was much too sinuous. It seemed to +stick to the body where it touched, even to seek the flesh where it +did not touch, that it might cling like gossamer with invisible +tentacles. In colour it was very pale yellow, not worn nor stained. It +was perfectly simple, sleeveless, and stopped half-way between the hip +and the knee. I looked for, but could not discover, either hem or +seam. Her feet and hands were very lovely, the toes and fingers long +and narrow, rosy-brown. I had full sight of her eyes for one throbbing +moment. Extraordinarily bright, quick and pulsing, waxing and waning +in intensity (as if an inner light beat in them), of the grey colour +of a chipped flint stone. The lashes were long, curving and very dark; +they were what you might call smut-colour and gave a blurred effect to +the eyes which was strange. This, among other things, was what set her +apart from us, this and the patient yet palpitating stare of her +regard. She looked at me suddenly, widely and full, taking in much +more than me, yet making me the centre of her vision. It gave me the +idea that she was surprised at my nearness and ready for any attack, +but did not seek to avoid it. There I was overstanding her and her +offspring; and what was must be. + +Of the little one I could not see much. It was on its side in the +fern, fast asleep. Its arms were stretched up the slope, its face was +between them. Its knees were bent and a little foot tucked up to touch +its body. Quite naked, brown all over, it was as plump and smooth and +tender as a little pig. But it was not pink; it was very brown. + +All nature seemed at the top of perfection that wonderful day. A hawk +soared high in the blue, bees murmured all about, the distance +quivered. I could see under the leaves of a great mullein the bright +eyes, then the round body of a mouse. Afar off the corn-cutter rattled +and whirred, and above us on the ridgeway some workmen sat at their +dinner under the telegraph wires. Men were all about us at their +affairs with Nature's face; and here stood I, a man of themselves, and +at my feet the Oread lay at ease and watched her young. There was food +for wonder in all this, but none for doubt. Who knows what his +neighbour sees? Who knows what his dog? Every species of us walks +secret from the others; every species of us the centre of his +universe, its staple of measure, and its final cause. And if at times +one is granted a peep into new heavens and a new earth, and can get no +more, perhaps the best thing we win from that is the conviction that +we must doubt nothing and wonder at everything. Here, now, was I, +common, blundering, trampling, make-shift man, peering upon my +Oread--fairy of the hill, whatever she was--and tempted to gauge her +by my man-taught balances of right and wrong, and use and wont. Was +that young male who had sheltered her in the snow her mate in truth, +the father of her young one? Or what sort of mating had been hers? +What wild love? What mysteries of the night? And where was he now? And +was he one, or were they many, who companioned this beautiful thing? +And would he come if I waited for him? And would he share her watch, +her quiet content, her still rapture? + +Idle, man-made questions, custom-taught! I did wait. I sat by her +waiting. But he did not come. + + +IV + +A month later, in October, I saw a great assembling of Oreads, by +which I was able to connect more than one experience. I could now +understand the phenomenon of the luminous ring. + +I reached the valley by about six o'clock in the evening. It was +twilight, not yet dusk. The sun was off the hollow, which lay in blue +mist, but above the level of the surrounding hills the air was bathed +in the sunset glow. The hush of evening was over all, the great cup of +the down absolutely desert; there were no birds, nor voices of birds; +not a twig snapped, not a leaf rustled. Imperceptibly the shadows +lengthened, faded with the light; and again behind the silence I +guessed at, rather than discerned, a preparatory, gathering music. So +finally, by twos and threes, they came to their assembling. + +Once more I never saw them come. Out of the mist they drifted +together. There had been a moment when they were not there; there was +a moment when I saw them. I saw three of them together, two females +and a male. They formed a circle, facing inwards, their arms +intertwined. The pale colour of their garments, the grey tones in +their flesh were so perfectly in tune with the hazy light, that it +would have been impossible, I am certain, to have seen them at all at +a hundred yards' distance. I could not determine whether they were +conversing or not: if they were, it was without speech. I have never +heard an articulate sound from any one of them, and have no provable +reason for connecting the unvoiced music I have sometimes discerned +with any act of theirs. It has accompanied them, and may have +proceeded from them--but I don't know that. Of these three linked +together I remember that one of them threw back her head till she +faced the sky. She did not laugh, or seem to be laughing: there was no +sound. It was rather as if she was bathing her face in the light. She +threw her head back so far that I could see the gleam in her wild +eyes; her hair streamed downward, straight as a fall of water. The +other two regarded her, and the male presently withdrew one of his +arms from the circle and laid his hand upon her. She let it be so; +seemed not to notice. + +Imperceptibly others had come about these three. If I took my eyes off +a group for a moment they were attracted to other groups or single +shapes. Some lay at ease on the sward, resting on elbow; some prone, +on both elbows; some seemed asleep, their heads on molehill pillows; +some sat huddling together, with their chins upon their knees; some +knelt face to face and held each other fondly; some were teasing, some +chasing others, winding in and out of the scattered groups. But +everything was doing in complete silence. + +Now and again one, flying from another, would rise in the air, the +pursuer following. They skimmed, soared, glided like swallows, in long +sweeping curves--there was no noise in their flight. They were quite +without reticence in their intercourse; desired or avoided, loved or +hated as the moment urged them; strove to win, struggled to escape, +achieved or surrendered without remark from their companions. They +were like children or animals. Desire was reason good; and if love was +soon over, hate lasted no longer. One passion or the other set them +scuffling: when it was spent they had no after-thought. + +One pretty sight I saw. A hare came lolloping over the valley bottom, +quite at his ease. In the midst of the assembly he stopped to nibble, +then reared himself up and cleaned his face. He saw them and they him +without concern on either side. + +The valley filled up; I could not count the shifting, crossing, +restless shapes I saw down there. Presently, without call or signal, +as if by one consent, the Oreads joined hands and enclosed the whole +circuit in their ring. The effect in the dusk was of a pale glow, as +of the softest fire, defining the contour of the valley; and soon they +were moving, circling round and round. Shriller and louder swelled the +hidden music, and faster span the ring. It whirled and wavered, lifted +and fell, but so smoothly, with such inherent power of motion, that it +was less like motion visible than motion heard. Nothing was +distinguishable but the belt of pale fire. That which I had seen +before they had now become--a ring of flame intensely swift. As if +sucked upward by a centripetal force it rose in the air. Wheeling +still with a sound incredibly shrill it rose to my level, swept by me +heralded by a keen wind, and was followed by a draught which caught +leaves and straws of grass and took them swirling along. Round and up, +and ever up it went, narrowing and spiring to the zenith. There, +looking long after it, I saw it diminish in size and brightness till +it became filmy as a cloud, then melted into the company of the +stars. + + + + +A SUMMARY CHAPTER + + +Now, it is the recent publication by Mr. Evans Wentz of a careful and +enthusiastic work upon _The Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries_ which has +inspired me to put these pages before the public. Some of them have +appeared in the magazines as curious recitals and may have afforded +pastime to the idle-minded, but without the courageous initiative of +Mr. Wentz I don't know that I should have attempted to give them such +coherence as they may claim to possess. And that, I fear, will be very +little without this chapter in which I shall, if I can, clear the +ground for a systematic study of the whole subject. No candid reader +can, I hope, rise from the perusal of the book without the conviction +that behind the world of appearance lies another and a vaster with a +thronging population of its own--with many populations, indeed, each +absorbed in uttering its being according to its own laws. If I have +afforded nothing else I have afforded glimpses into that world; and +the question now is, What do we precisely gather, what can we be said +to know of the laws of that world in which these swift, beautiful and +apparently ruthless creatures live and move and utter themselves? I +shall have to draw upon more than I have recorded here: cases which I +have heard of, which I have read of in other men's books, as well as +those which are related here as personal revelation. If I speak +pragmatically, _ex cathedra_, it is not intentional. If I fail +sometimes to give chapter and verse it will be because I have never +taken any notes of what has gone into my memory, and have no documents +to hand. But I don't invent; I remember. + + * * * * * + +There is a chain of Being of whose top alike and bottom we know +nothing at all. What we do know is that our own is a link in it, and +cannot generally, can only fitfully and rarely, have intercourse with +any other. I am not prepared with any modern instances of intercourse +with the animal and vegetable world, even to such a limited extent, +for instance, as that of Balaam with his ass, or that of Achilles with +his horses; but I suspect that there are an enormous number +unrecorded. Speech, of course, is not necessary to such an +intercourse. Speech is a vehicle of human intercourse, but not of that +of any other created order so far as we know.[8] Birds and beasts do +not converse in speech, smell or touch seems to be the sense +employed; and though the vehicles of smell and touch are unknown to +us, in moments of high emotion we ourselves converse otherwise than by +speech. Indeed, seeing that all created things possess a spirit +whereby they are what they are, it does not seem necessary to suppose +intercourse impossible without speech, and I myself have never had any +difficulty in accepting the stories of much more vital mixed +intercourse which we read of in the Greek and other mythologies. If we +read, for instance, that such and such a man or woman was the +offspring of a woman and the spirit of a river, or of a man and the +spirit of a hill or oak-tree, it does not seem to me at all +extraordinary. The story of the wife who suffered a fairy union and +bore a fairy child which disappeared with her is a case in point. The +fairy father was, so far as I can make out, the indwelling spirit of a +rose, and the story is too painful and the detail in my possession too +exact for me to put it down here. I was myself actually present, and +in the house, when the child was born. I witnessed the anguish of the +unfortunate husband, who is now dead. Mr. Wentz has many instances of +the kind from Ireland and other Celtic countries; but fairies are by +no means confined to Celtic countries, though they are more easily +discerned by Celtic races. + +[Footnote 8: The speech of Balaam's ass or of Balaam, of Achilles and +his horses are, of course, necessary conventions of the poet's and do +not imply that words passed between the parties.] + +Of this chain of Being, then, of which our order is a member, the +fairy world is another and more subtle member, subtler in the right +sense of the word because it is not burdened with a material envelope. +Like man, like the wind, like the rose, it has spirit; but unlike any +of the lower orders, of which man is one, it has no sensible wrapping +unless deliberately it consents to inhabit one. This, as we know, it +frequently does. I have mentioned several cases of the kind; Mrs. +Ventris was one, Mabilla By-the-Wood was another. I have not +personally come across any other cases where a male fairy took upon +him the burden of a man than that of Quidnunc. Even there I have never +been satisfied that Quidnunc became man to the extent that Mrs. +Ventris did. Quidnunc, no doubt, was the father of Lady Emily's +children; but were those children human? There are some grounds for +thinking so, and in that case, if "the nature follows the male," +Quidnunc must have doffed his immateriality and suffered real +incarnation. If they were fairy children the case is altered. Quidnunc +need not have had a body at all. Now since it is clear that the fairy +world is a real order of creation, with laws of its own every whit as +fixed and immutable as those of any other order known to naturalists, +it is very reasonable to inquire into the nature and scope of those +laws. I am not at all prepared at present to attempt anything like a +digest of them. That would require a lifetime; and no small part of +the task, after marshalling the evidence, would be to agree upon terms +which would be intelligible to ourselves and yet not misleading. To +take polity alone, are we to understand that any kind of Government +resembling that of human societies obtains among them? When we talk of +Queens or Kings of the Fairies, of Oberon and Titania, for example, +are we using a rough translation of a real something, or are we +telling the mere truth? Is there a fairy king? The King of the Wood, +for instance, who was he? Is there a fairy queen? Who is Queen Mab? +Who is Despoina? Who is the Lady of the Lake? Who is the "_[Greek: +Basilissa ton bounon]_," or "_[Greek: Megale Kura]_" of whom Mr. +Lawson tells us such suggestive things in his _Modern Greek +Folk-lore?_ Who is Despoina, with whom I myself have conversed, "a +dread goddess, not of human speech?" The truth, I suspect, is this. +There are, as we know, countless tribes, clans, or orders of fairies, +just as there are nations of men. They confess the power of some +greater Spirit among themselves, bow to it instantly and submit to its +decrees; but they do not, so far as I can understand, acknowledge a +monarchy in any sense of ours. If there is a Supreme Power over the +fairy creation it is Proserpine; but hers is too remote an empire to +be comparable to any of ours. Not even Caesar, not even the Great King, +could hope to rule such myriads as she. She may stand for the +invisible creation no doubt, but she would never have commerce with +it. No fairy hath seen her at any time; no sovereignty such as we are +now discussing would be applicable to her dominion. That of Artemis, +or that of Pan, is more comparable. Artemis is certainly ruler of the +spirits of the air and water, of the hills and shores of the sea, and +to some extent her power overlaps that of Pan who is potent in nearly +all land solitudes. But really the two lord-ships can be exactly +discriminated. They never conflict. The legions of Artemis are all +female, though on earth men as well as women worship her; the legions +of Pan are all male, though on earth he can chasten women as well as +men.[9] But Pan can do nothing against Artemis, nor she anything +against him or any of his. The decree or swift deed of either is +respected by the other. They are not, then, as earthly kings, leaders +of their hosts to battle against their neighbours. Fairies fight and +marshal themselves for war; Mr. Wentz has several cases of the kind. +But Pan and Artemis have no share in these warfares. Queen Mab is one +of the many names, and points to one of the many manifestations of +Artemis; the Lady of the Lake is another. Both of these have died out, +and in the country she is generally hinted at under the veil of +"Mistress of the Wood" or "Lady of the Hill." I heard the latter from +a Wiltshire shepherd; the former is used in Sussex, in the Cheviots, +and in Lincolnshire, and was introduced, I believe, by the Gipsies. +Titania was a name of romance, and so was Oberon, that of her husband +in romance. Queen Mab has no husband, nor will she ever have. + +[Footnote 9: But if this is true, who is the King of the Wood? The +statement is too sweeping.] + +But she is, of course, a goddess, and not a queen in our sense of the +word. The fairies, who partake of her nature just so far as we partake +of theirs, pray to her, invoke her, and make her offerings every day. +But a vital difference between their kind and ours is that they can +see her and live; and we never see the Gods until we die. + +They have no other leaders, I believe, and certainly no royal houses. +Faculty is free in the fairy world to its utmost limit. A fairy's +power within his own order is limited only by the extent of his +personal faculty, and subject only to the Gods. There is no civil law +to restrain him, and no moral law; no law at all except the law of +being.[10] + +[Footnote 10: Apparent eccentricities of this law, such as the +obedience to iron, or zinc (if we may believe Beckwith), should be +noted. I can't explain them. They seem arbitrary at first sight, but +nothing in Nature is arbitrary.] + +We are contemplating, then, a realm, nay, a world, where anarchy is +the rule, and anarchy in the widest sense. The fairies are of a world +where Right and Wrong don't obtain, where Possible and Impossible are +the only finger-posts at cross-roads; for the Gods themselves give no +moral sanction to desire and hold up no moral check. The fairies love +and hate intensely; they crave and enjoy; they satisfy by kindness or +cruelty; they serve or enslave each other; they give life or take it +as their instinct, appetite or whim may be. But there is this +remarkable thing to be noted, that when a thing is dead they cannot be +aware of its existence. For them it is not, it is as if it had never +been. Ruth, therefore, is unknown, their emotions are maimed to that +serious extent that they cannot regret, cannot pity, cannot weep for +sorrow. They weep through rage, but sorrow they know not. Similarly, +they cannot laugh for joy. Laughing with them is an expression of +pleasure, but not of joy. Here then, at least, we have the better of +them. I for one would not exchange my privilege of pity or my +consolation of pure sorrow for all their transcendent faculty. + +It is often said that fairies of both sexes seek our kind because we +know more of the pleasure of love than they do. Since we know more of +the griefs of it that is likely to be true; but it is a great mistake +to suppose that they are unsusceptible to the great heights and deeps +of the holy passion. It is to make the vulgar confusion between the +passion and the expression of it. They are capable of the greatest +devotion to the beloved, of the greatest sacrifice of all--the +sacrifice of their own nature. These fairy-wives of whom I have been +speaking--Miranda King, Mabilla By-the-Wood--when they took upon them +our nature, and with it our power of backward-looking and +forward-peering, was what they could remember, was what they must +dread, no sacrifice? They could have escaped at any moment, mind you, +and been free.[11] Resuming their first nature they would have lost +regret. But they did not. Love was their master. There are many cases +of the kind. With men it is otherwise. I have mentioned Mary Wellwood, +the carpenter's wife, twice taken by a fairy and twice recaptured. The +last time she was brought back to Ashby-de-la-Zouche she died there. +But there is reason for this. A woman marrying a male fairy gets +some, but not all, of the fairy attributes, while her children have +them in full at birth. She bears them with all the signs of human +motherhood, and directly they are born her earthly rights and duties +cease. She does not nurse them and she can only rise in the air when +they are with her. That means that she cannot go after them if they +are long away from her, unless she can get another fairy to keep her +company. By the same mysterious law she can only conceal herself, or +doff her appearance, with the aid of a fairy. For some time after her +abduction or surrender her husband has to nourish her by breathing +into her mouth; but with the birth of her first child she can support +herself in the fairy manner. It was owing to this imperfect state of +being that Mary Wellwood was resumed by her friends the first time. +The second time she went back of her own accord. + +[Footnote 11: When a fairy marries a man she gradually loses her +fairy-power and her children have none of it or only vestiges--so much +as the children of a genius may perhaps exhibit. I am not able to say +how long the fairy-wife's ability to resume her own nature lasts. _The +Forsaken Merman_ occurs to one; but I doubt if Miranda King, at the +time, say, of her son's marriage with Mabilla, could have gone back to +the sea. Sometimes, as in Mrs. Ventris's case, fairy-wives play truant +for a night or for a season. I have reason to believe that not +uncommon. The number of fairy-wives in England alone is very +considerable--over a quarter of a million, I am told.] + +But with regard to their love-business among themselves it is a very +different matter, so far as I can understand it. The fairy child is +initiated at the age of puberty and is then competent to pair. He is +not long in selecting his companion; nor does she often seem to refuse +him, though mating is done by liking in all cases and has nothing +whatever to do with the parents. It must be remembered, of course, +that they are subject to the primitive law from which man only has +freed himself. They frequently fight for the possession of the female, +or measure their powers against each other; and she goes with the +victor or the better man.[12] I don't know any case where the advance +has been made by the female. Pairing may be for a season or for a +period or for life. I don't think there is any rule; but in all cases +of separation the children are invariably divided--the males to the +father, the females to the mother. After initiation the children owe +no allegiance to their parents. Love with them is a wild and wonderful +rapture in all its manifestations, and without regard necessarily to +sex. I never, in my life, saw a more beautiful expression of it than +in the two females whom I saw greet and embrace on Parliament Hill. +Their motions to each other, their looks and their clinging were +beyond expression tender and swift. Nor shall I ever forget the pair +of Oreads in the snow, of whose meeting I have said as much as is +possible in a previous chapter. It must be remembered that I am +dealing with an order of Nature which knows nothing of our shames and +qualms, which is not only unconscious of itself but unconscious of +anything but its immediate desire; but I am dealing with it to the +understanding of a very different order, to whom it is not enough to +do a thing which seems good in its own eyes, but requisite also to be +sure of the approbation of its fellow-men. I should create a wrong +impression were I to enlarge upon this branch of my subject; I should +make my readers call fairies shameful when as a fact they know not the +meaning of shame, or reprove them for shamelessness when, indeed, they +are luckily without it. I shall make bold to say once for all that as +it is absurd to call the lightning cruel, so it is absurd to call +shameful those who know nothing about the deformity. No one can know +what love means who has not seen the fairies at their loving--and so +much for that. + +[Footnote 12: I saw an extraordinary case of that, where a male came +suddenly before a mated pair, asserted himself and took her to himself +incontinent. There was no fighting. He stood and looked. The period of +suspense was breathless but not long.] + +The laws which govern the appearance of fairies to mankind or their +commerce with men and women seem to be conditioned by the ability of +men to perceive them. The senses of men are figuratively speaking +lenses coloured or shaped by personality. How are we to know the form +and pressure of the great river Enipeus, whose shape, for the love of +Tyro, Poseidon took? And so the accounts of fairy appearance, of fairy +shape, size, vesture, will vary in the measure of the faculty of the +percipient. To me, personally, the fairies seem to go in gowns of +yellow, grey, russet or green, but mostly in yellow or grey. The +Oreads or Spirits of the hills vary. In winter their vesture is +yellow, in summer it is ash-green. The Dryad whom I saw was in grey, +the colour of the lichened oak-tree out of which she gleamed. The +fairies in a Norman forest had long brown garments, very close and +clinging, to the ankles. They were belted, and their hair was loose. +But that is invariable. I never saw a fairy with snooded or tied up +hair. They are always bare-footed. Despoina is the only fairy I ever +saw in any other colour than those I have named. She always wears +blue, of the colour of the shadows on a moonlight night, very +beautiful. She, too, wears sandals, which they say the Satyrs weave +for her as a tribute. They lay them down where she has been or is +likely to be; for they never see her. + +But this matter of vesture is really a digression: I have more +important matter in hand, and that is to consider the intercourse +between fairy and mortal, as it is governed by appearance. How does a +man, for instance, gain a fairy-wife? How does a woman give herself to +a fairy-lover? I have given a careful account of a case of each sort +in answer. Young King gained his wife by capture; Lady Emily Rich +followed her lover at a look. + +But this does not really touch the point, which is, rather, how was +Lady Emily Rich brought or put into such a relation with Quidnunc +that she could receive a look from him? How was King put into such a +relation with Mabilla that he could take her away from her own people? +There must have been an incarnation, you would say; and I should agree +with you. Now in Andrew King's case there was belief to go upon, the +belief common to all the Cheviot side, handed down to it from untold +generations and never lost; coupled with that, there was an intense +and probably long-standing desire in the young man himself to realise +and substantiate his belief. He had brooded over it, his fancy had +gone to work upon it; he loved his Mabilla before ever he saw her; his +love, it was, which evoked her. And I take it as proved--at any rate +it is proved to my own satisfaction--that faith coupled with desire +has power--the power of suggestion it is called--over Spirit as it +certainly has over Matter. If I say, then, that Andrew King evoked +Mabilla By-the-Wood, called her out of her own world into his, I +assert two things: the first, that she was really at one time in her +own world, the second, that she was afterward really in his. The +second my own senses can vouch for. That she was fetched back by the +King of the Wood and recaptured by Andrew are minor points. Grant the +first taking and there is no difficulty about them. + +Mr. Lawson gives cases from Greece which point to certain ritual +performances on the part of the lover; the snatching, for instance, of +a handkerchief from the beloved, of which the preservation is +tantamount to the permanence of the subsequent union. He has a curious +case, too, of a peasant who married a nymph and gave her a child but +could not make her speak to him. He consulted a wise woman who advised +him to threaten her with the fire for the baby if she would not talk. +He did it and the charm worked. The Nymph spoke fiercely to him, "You +dog, leave my child alone," she said, and seized it from him, and with +it disappeared. That is parallel to my case where love made Mabilla +speak. It was love for her husband, to be sure; but she had then no +children. + +Mr. Wentz gets no evidence of fairy-wives from Ireland, but a great +number out of Wales. One of them is the beautiful tale of Einion and +Olwen (p. 161) which has many points of resemblance with mine from the +Border. Einion also seems to have met the King of the Wood. Like +Andrew King he was kissed by the nymphs, but only by one of them; but +unlike him he stayed in their country for a year and a day, then went +back to his own people, and finally returned for his fairy-wife. +Taliesin was their son. No conditions seem to have been made. + +So much for fairy brides, but now for fairy grooms. I have two cases +to add to that of Quidnunc, but before giving them, let me say of his +affair that since the suggestion there seems to have come from him to +the woman, the incarnation, if such there were, must have been +voluntary. Evocation was not instrumental in it. He appeared before +her, as she had appeared before others, many others, including myself, +and his subsequent commerce with her was achieved by his own personal +force. You may say that she had been prepared to see him by belief and +desire, by belief and desire acting upon a mind greatly distressed and +probably overwrought. You may say that she saw what she ardently +desired to see. It is quite true, I cannot deny it; but I point to his +previous manifestations, and leave it there. + +Here is a tale to the purpose which I got out of Worcestershire. Two +girls, daughter and niece of a farmer, bosom friends and bed-fellows, +became involved in a love-affair and, desperate of a happy issue, +attempted a charm to win their lovers back. On All Hallow Eve, two +hours before the sun, they went into the garden, barefoot, in their +nightgowns and circled about a stone which was believed to be +bewitched.[13] They used certain words, the Lord's prayer backward or +what not, and had an apparition. A brown man came out of the bushes +and looked at them for some time. Then he came to them, paralysed as +they may have been, and peering closely into the face of one of them +gave her a flower and disappeared. That same evening they kept the +Hallow E'en with the usual play, half-earnest, half-game, and, among +other things which they did, "peascodded" the girls. The game is a +very old one, and consists in setting the victim in a chair with her +back to the door while her companions rub her down with handfuls of +pea-shucks. During this ceremony if any man enter the room he is her +lover, and she is handed over to him. This was done, then, to one of +the girls who had dared the dawn magic; and in the midst of it a brown +man, dressed in a smock-frock tied up with green ribbons, appeared, +standing in the door. He took the girl by the hand and led her out of +the house. She was seen no more that night, nor for many days +afterward, though her parents and neighbours hunted her far and wide. +By-and-by she was reported at a village some ten or twelve miles off +on the Shropshire border, where some shepherds had found her wandering +the hill. She was brought home but could give no good account of +herself, or would not. She said that she had followed her lover, +married him, and lost him. Nothing would comfort her, nothing could +keep her in the house. She was locked in, but made her way out; she +was presently sent to the lunatic asylum, but escaped from that. Then +she got away for good and all and never came back again. No trace of +her body could be found. What are you to make of a thing of the sort? +I give it for what it is worth, with this note only, that the +apparition was manifest to several persons, though not, I fancy, to +any but the girls concerned in the peascodding. + +[Footnote 13: It is said to have been the base of a Roman terminal +statue, but I have not seen it.] + +The Willow-lad's is another tale of the same kind. It was described in +1787 by the Reverend Samuel Jordan in the _Gentleman's Magazine_, if I +am not mistaken. + +The Willow-lad was an apparition which was believed to appear in a +withy-bed on the banks of the Ouse near Huntingdon. He could only be +seen at dusk, and only by women. He had a sinister reputation, and to +say of a girl that she had been to the withy-bed was a broad hint that +she was no better than she should be. Yet, according to Mr. Jordan, +the girls did go there in numbers, and to such effect that by an order +of the Town Council the place was stubbed up. You had to go alone to +the withy-bed between sunset and sunrise of a moonless night, to lay +your hand upon a certain stump and say, and in a loud voice:-- + + Willow-boy, Willow-boy, come to me soon, + After the sun and before the moon. + Hide the stars and cover my head; + Let no man see me when I be wed. + +One would like to know whether the Willow-lad's powers perished with +the withy-bed. They should not, but should have been turned to +malicious uses. There are many cases in Mr. Lawson's book of the +malefical effect upon the Dryads of cutting down the trees whose +spirit they are. And most people know Landor's idyll, or if they +don't, they should. + + * * * * * + +There are queer doings under the sun as well as under the moon. A man +may travel far without leaving his arm-chair by the fire, in countries +where no tourist-tickets obtain, and see stranger things than are +recorded by Herr Baedeker. + + The waies through which my weary steps I guide + In this delightful land of Faery + Are so exceeding spacious and wyde, + And sprinckled with such sweet variety + Of all that pleasant is to eare or eye, + That I, nigh ravisht with rare thoughts' delight, + My tedious travele doe forget thereby; + And when I gin to feele decay of might, + It strength to me supplies, and chears my dulled spright. + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lore of Proserpine, by Maurice Hewlett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LORE OF PROSERPINE *** + +***** This file should be named 18730.txt or 18730.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/7/3/18730/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/18730.zip b/18730.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac166ff --- /dev/null +++ b/18730.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1091223 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #18730 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18730) |