CHAPTER IV
“When bale is att hyest, boote is nyest.” Ballad of Sir Aldingar.
By this time, my hostess was quite anxious that I should be gone. So,with warm thanks for their hospitality, I took my leave, and went my waythrough the little garden towards the forest. Some of the garden flowershad wandered into the wood, and were growing here and there alongthe path, but the trees soon became too thick and shadowy for them. Iparticularly noticed some tall lilies, which grew on both sides ofthe way, with large dazzlingly white flowers, set off by the universalgreen. It was now dark enough for me to see that every flower wasshining with a light of its own. Indeed it was by this light that Isaw them, an internal, peculiar light, proceeding from each, and notreflected from a common source of light as in the daytime. This lightsufficed only for the plant itself, and was not strong enough to castany but the faintest shadows around it, or to illuminate any of theneighbouring objects with other than the faintest tinge of its ownindividual hue. From the lilies above mentioned, from the campanulas,from the foxgloves, and every bell-shaped flower, curious little figuresshot up their heads, peeped at me, and drew back. They seemed to inhabitthem, as snails their shells but I was sure some of them were intruders,and belonged to the gnomes or goblin-fairies, who inhabit the groundand earthy creeping plants. From the cups of Arum lilies, creatures withgreat heads and grotesque faces shot up like Jack-in-the-box, and madegrimaces at me; or rose slowly and slily over the edge of the cup,and spouted water at me, slipping suddenly back, like those littlesoldier-crabs that inhabit the shells of sea-snails. Passing a row oftall thistles, I saw them crowded with little faces, which peeped everyone from behind its flower, and drew back as quickly; and I heard themsaying to each other, evidently intending me to hear, but the speakeralways hiding behind his tuft, when I looked in his direction, “Look athim! Look at him! He has begun a story without a beginning, and it willnever have any end. He! he! he! Look at him!”
But as I went further into the wood, these sights and sounds becamefewer, giving way to others of a different character. A little forestof wild hyacinths was alive with exquisite creatures, who stood nearlymotionless, with drooping necks, holding each by the stem of her flower,and swaying gently with it, whenever a low breath of wind swung thecrowded floral belfry. In like manner, though differing of coursein form and meaning, stood a group of harebells, like little angelswaiting, ready, till they were wanted to go on some yet unknown message.In darker nooks, by the mossy roots of the trees, or in little tuftsof grass, each dwelling in a globe of its own green light, weaving anetwork of grass and its shadows, glowed the glowworms.
They were just like the glowworms of our own land, for they are fairieseverywhere; worms in the day, and glowworms at night, when their own canappear, and they can be themselves to others as well as themselves.But they had their enemies here. For I saw great strong-armed beetles,hurrying about with most unwieldy haste, awkward as elephant-calves,looking apparently for glowworms; for the moment a beetle espied one,through what to it was a forest of grass, or an underwood of moss, itpounced upon it, and bore it away, in spite of its feeble resistance.Wondering what their object could be, I watched one of the beetles,and then I discovered a thing I could not account for. But it is no usetrying to account for things in Fairy Land; and one who travels theresoon learns to forget the very idea of doing so, and takes everything asit comes; like a child, who, being in a chronic condition of wonder, issurprised at nothing. What I saw was this. Everywhere, here and thereover the ground, lay little, dark-looking lumps of something more likeearth than anything else, and about the size of a chestnut. The beetleshunted in couples for these; and having found one, one of them stayedto watch it, while the other hurried to find a glowworm. By signals, Ipresume, between them, the latter soon found his companion again: theythen took the glowworm and held its luminous tail to the dark earthlypellet; when lo, it shot up into the air like a sky-rocket, seldom,however, reaching the height of the highest tree. Just like a rockettoo, it burst in the air, and fell in a shower of the most gorgeouslycoloured sparks of every variety of hue; golden and red, and purple andgreen, and blue and rosy fires crossed and inter-crossed each other,beneath the shadowy heads, and between the columnar stems of the foresttrees. They never used the same glowworm twice, I observed; but let himgo, apparently uninjured by the use they had made of him.
In other parts, the whole of the immediately surrounding foliage wasilluminated by the interwoven dances in the air of splendidly colouredfire-flies, which sped hither and thither, turned, twisted, crossed, andrecrossed, entwining every complexity of intervolved motion. Here andthere, whole mighty trees glowed with an emitted phosphorescent light.You could trace the very course of the great roots in the earth by thefaint light that came through; and every twig, and every vein on everyleaf was a streak of pale fire.
All this time, as I went through the wood, I was haunted with thefeeling that other shapes, more like my own size and mien, were movingabout at a little distance on all sides of me. But as yet I coulddiscern none of them, although the moon was high enough to send a greatmany of her rays down between the trees, and these rays were unusuallybright, and sight-giving, notwithstanding she was only a half-moon. Iconstantly imagined, however, that forms were visible in all directionsexcept that to which my gaze was turned; and that they only becameinvisible, or resolved themselves into other woodland shapes, the momentmy looks were directed towards them. However this may have been, exceptfor this feeling of presence, the woods seemed utterly bare of anythinglike human companionship, although my glance often fell on some objectwhich I fancied to be a human form; for I soon found that I was quitedeceived; as, the moment I fixed my regard on it, it showed plainly thatit was a bush, or a tree, or a rock.
Soon a vague sense of discomfort possessed me. With variations ofrelief, this gradually increased; as if some evil thing were wanderingabout in my neighbourhood, sometimes nearer and sometimes further off,but still approaching. The feeling continued and deepened, until all mypleasure in the shows of various kinds that everywhere betokened thepresence of the merry fairies vanished by degrees, and left me fullof anxiety and fear, which I was unable to associate with any definiteobject whatever. At length the thought crossed my mind with horror: “Canit be possible that the Ash is looking for me? or that, in his nightlywanderings, his path is gradually verging towards mine?” I comfortedmyself, however, by remembering that he had started quite in anotherdirection; one that would lead him, if he kept it, far apart from me;especially as, for the last two or three hours, I had been diligentlyjourneying eastward. I kept on my way, therefore, striving by directeffort of the will against the encroaching fear; and to this endoccupying my mind, as much as I could, with other thoughts. I was so farsuccessful that, although I was conscious, if I yielded for a moment, Ishould be almost overwhelmed with horror, I was yet able to walk righton for an hour or more. What I feared I could not tell. Indeed, I wasleft in a state of the vaguest uncertainty as regarded the nature of myenemy, and knew not the mode or object of his attacks; for, somehow orother, none of my questions had succeeded in drawing a definite answerfrom the dame in the cottage. How then to defend myself I knew not; noreven by what sign I might with certainty recognise the presence of myfoe; for as yet this vague though powerful fear was all the indicationof danger I had. To add to my distress, the clouds in the west had risennearly to the top of the skies, and they and the moon were travellingslowly towards each other. Indeed, some of their advanced guard hadalready met her, and she had begun to wade through a filmy vapour thatgradually deepened.
At length she was for a moment almost entirely obscured. When she shoneout again, with a brilliancy increased by the contrast, I saw plainlyon the path before me--from around which at this spot the trees receded,leaving a small space of green sward--the shadow of a large hand, withknotty joints and protuberances here and there. Especially I remarked,even in the midst of my fear, the bulbous points of the finger
s. Ilooked hurriedly all around, but could see nothing from which sucha shadow should fall. Now, however, that I had a direction, howeverundetermined, in which to project my apprehension, the very sense ofdanger and need of action overcame that stifling which is the worstproperty of fear. I reflected in a moment, that if this were indeed ashadow, it was useless to look for the object that cast it in any otherdirection than between the shadow and the moon. I looked, and peered,and intensified my vision, all to no purpose. I could see nothing ofthat kind, not even an ash-tree in the neighbourhood. Still the shadowremained; not steady, but moving to and fro, and once I saw the fingersclose, and grind themselves close, like the claws of a wild animal, asif in uncontrollable longing for some anticipated prey. There seemedbut one mode left of discovering the substance of this shadow. I wentforward boldly, though with an inward shudder which I would not heed, tothe spot where the shadow lay, threw myself on the ground, laid my headwithin the form of the hand, and turned my eyes towards the moon Goodheavens! what did I see? I wonder that ever I arose, and that the veryshadow of the hand did not hold me where I lay until fear had frozen mybrain. I saw the strangest figure; vague, shadowy, almost transparent,in the central parts, and gradually deepening in substance towards theoutside, until it ended in extremities capable of casting such a shadowas fell from the hand, through the awful fingers of which I now saw themoon. The hand was uplifted in the attitude of a paw about to strikeits prey. But the face, which throbbed with fluctuating and pulsatoryvisibility--not from changes in the light it reflected, but from changesin its own conditions of reflecting power, the alterations being fromwithin, not from without--it was horrible. I do not know how to describeit. It caused a new sensation. Just as one cannot translate a horribleodour, or a ghastly pain, or a fearful sound, into words, so I cannotdescribe this new form of awful hideousness. I can only try to describesomething that is not it, but seems somewhat parallel to it; or at leastis suggested by it. It reminded me of what I had heard of vampires; forthe face resembled that of a corpse more than anything else I canthink of; especially when I can conceive such a face in motion, butnot suggesting any life as the source of the motion. The features wererather handsome than otherwise, except the mouth, which had scarcely acurve in it. The lips were of equal thickness; but the thickness wasnot at all remarkable, even although they looked slightly swollen. Theyseemed fixedly open, but were not wide apart. Of course I did not REMARKthese lineaments at the time: I was too horrified for that. I noted themafterwards, when the form returned on my inward sight with a vividnesstoo intense to admit of my doubting the accuracy of the reflex. But themost awful of the features were the eyes. These were alive, yet not withlife.
They seemed lighted up with an infinite greed. A gnawing voracity, whichdevoured the devourer, seemed to be the indwelling and propelling powerof the whole ghostly apparition. I lay for a few moments simply imbrutedwith terror; when another cloud, obscuring the moon, delivered me fromthe immediately paralysing effects of the presence to the vision of theobject of horror, while it added the force of imagination to the powerof fear within me; inasmuch as, knowing far worse cause for apprehensionthan before, I remained equally ignorant from what I had to defendmyself, or how to take any precautions: he might be upon me in thedarkness any moment. I sprang to my feet, and sped I knew not whither,only away from the spectre. I thought no longer of the path, and oftennarrowly escaped dashing myself against a tree, in my headlong flight offear.
Great drops of rain began to patter on the leaves. Thunder began tomutter, then growl in the distance. I ran on. The rain fell heavier. Atlength the thick leaves could hold it up no longer; and, like a secondfirmament, they poured their torrents on the earth. I was soon drenched,but that was nothing. I came to a small swollen stream that rushedthrough the woods. I had a vague hope that if I crossed this stream, Ishould be in safety from my pursuer; but I soon found that my hope wasas false as it was vague. I dashed across the stream, ascended a risingground, and reached a more open space, where stood only great trees.Through them I directed my way, holding eastward as nearly as I couldguess, but not at all certain that I was not moving in an oppositedirection. My mind was just reviving a little from its extreme terror,when, suddenly, a flash of lightning, or rather a cataract of successiveflashes, behind me, seemed to throw on the ground in front of me, butfar more faintly than before, from the extent of the source of thelight, the shadow of the same horrible hand. I sprang forward, stungto yet wilder speed; but had not run many steps before my foot slipped,and, vainly attempting to recover myself, I fell at the foot of oneof the large trees. Half-stunned, I yet raised myself, and almostinvoluntarily looked back. All I saw was the hand within three feetof my face. But, at the same moment, I felt two large soft arms thrownround me from behind; and a voice like a woman’s said: “Do not fear thegoblin; he dares not hurt you now.” With that, the hand was suddenlywithdrawn as from a fire, and disappeared in the darkness and the rain.Overcome with the mingling of terror and joy, I lay for some time almostinsensible. The first thing I remember is the sound of a voice above me,full and low, and strangely reminding me of the sound of a gentle windamidst the leaves of a great tree. It murmured over and over again:“I may love him, I may love him; for he is a man, and I am only abeech-tree.” I found I was seated on the ground, leaning against a humanform, and supported still by the arms around me, which I knew to bethose of a woman who must be rather above the human size, and largelyproportioned. I turned my head, but without moving otherwise, for Ifeared lest the arms should untwine themselves; and clear, somewhatmournful eyes met mine. At least that is how they impressed me; but Icould see very little of colour or outline as we sat in the dark andrainy shadow of the tree. The face seemed very lovely, and solemn fromits stillness; with the aspect of one who is quite content, but waitingfor something. I saw my conjecture from her arms was correct: she wasabove the human scale throughout, but not greatly.
“Why do you call yourself a beech-tree?” I said.
“Because I am one,” she replied, in the same low, musical, murmuringvoice.
“You are a woman,” I returned.
“Do you think so? Am I very like a woman then?”
“You are a very beautiful woman. Is it possible you should not know it?”
“I am very glad you think so. I fancy I feel like a woman sometimes. Ido so to-night--and always when the rain drips from my hair. For thereis an old prophecy in our woods that one day we shall all be men andwomen like you. Do you know anything about it in your region? Shall Ibe very happy when I am a woman? I fear not, for it is always in nightslike these that I feel like one. But I long to be a woman for all that.”
I had let her talk on, for her voice was like a solution of all musicalsounds. I now told her that I could hardly say whether women were happyor not. I knew one who had not been happy; and for my part, I had oftenlonged for Fairy Land, as she now longed for the world of men. But thenneither of us had lived long, and perhaps people grew happier as theygrew older. Only I doubted it.
I could not help sighing. She felt the sigh, for her arms were stillround me. She asked me how old I was.
“Twenty-one,” said I.
“Why, you baby!” said she, and kissed me with the sweetest kiss of windsand odours. There was a cool faithfulness in the kiss that revived myheart wonderfully. I felt that I feared the dreadful Ash no more.
“What did the horrible Ash want with me?” I said.
“I am not quite sure, but I think he wants to bury you at the foot ofhis tree. But he shall not touch you, my child.”
“Are all the ash-trees as dreadful as he?”
“Oh, no. They are all disagreeable selfish creatures--(what horrid menthey will make, if it be true!)--but this one has a hole in his heartthat nobody knows of but one or two; and he is always trying to fill itup, but he cannot. That must be what he wanted you for. I wonder if hewill ever be a man. If he is, I hope they will kill him.”
“How kind of you to save me from him!”
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nbsp; “I will take care that he shall not come near you again. But there aresome in the wood more like me, from whom, alas! I cannot protect you.Only if you see any of them very beautiful, try to walk round them.”
“What then?”
“I cannot tell you more. But now I must tie some of my hair about you,and then the Ash will not touch you. Here, cut some off. You men havestrange cutting things about you.”
She shook her long hair loose over me, never moving her arms.
“I cannot cut your beautiful hair. It would be a shame.”
“Not cut my hair! It will have grown long enough before any is wantedagain in this wild forest. Perhaps it may never be of any use again--nottill I am a woman.” And she sighed.
As gently as I could, I cut with a knife a long tress of flowing, darkhair, she hanging her beautiful head over me. When I had finished, sheshuddered and breathed deep, as one does when an acute pain, steadfastlyendured without sign of suffering, is at length relaxed. She then tookthe hair and tied it round me, singing a strange, sweet song, which Icould not understand, but which left in me a feeling like this--
“I saw thee ne’er before; I see thee never more; But love, and help, and pain, beautiful one, Have made thee mine, till all my years are done.”
I cannot put more of it into words. She closed her arms about me again,and went on singing. The rain in the leaves, and a light wind that hadarisen, kept her song company. I was wrapt in a trance of still delight.It told me the secret of the woods, and the flowers, and the birds. Atone time I felt as if I was wandering in childhood through sunny springforests, over carpets of primroses, anemones, and little white starrythings--I had almost said creatures, and finding new wonderful flowersat every turn. At another, I lay half dreaming in the hot summer noon,with a book of old tales beside me, beneath a great beech; or, inautumn, grew sad because I trod on the leaves that had sheltered me,and received their last blessing in the sweet odours of decay; or, ina winter evening, frozen still, looked up, as I went home to a warmfireside, through the netted boughs and twigs to the cold, snowy moon,with her opal zone around her. At last I had fallen asleep; for Iknow nothing more that passed till I found myself lying under a superbbeech-tree, in the clear light of the morning, just before sunrise.Around me was a girdle of fresh beech-leaves. Alas! I brought nothingwith me out of Fairy Land, but memories--memories. The great boughs ofthe beech hung drooping around me. At my head rose its smooth stem, withits great sweeps of curving surface that swelled like undeveloped limbs.The leaves and branches above kept on the song which had sung me asleep;only now, to my mind, it sounded like a farewell and a speedwell. I sata long time, unwilling to go; but my unfinished story urged me on. Imust act and wander. With the sun well risen, I rose, and put my arms asfar as they would reach around the beech-tree, and kissed it, and saidgood-bye. A trembling went through the leaves; a few of the last dropsof the night’s rain fell from off them at my feet; and as I walkedslowly away, I seemed to hear in a whisper once more the words: “I maylove him, I may love him; for he is a man, and I am only a beech-tree.”
Phantastes: A Faerie Romance for Men and Women Page 6
