Phantastes: A Faerie Romance for Men and Women

by George MacDonald

  CHAPTER V

  “And she was smooth and full, as if one gush Of life had washed her, or as if a sleep Lay on her eyelid, easier to sweep Than bee from daisy.” BEDDOIS’ Pygmalion.

  “Sche was as whyt as lylye yn May, Or snow that sneweth yn wynterys day.” Romance of Sir Launfal.

  I walked on, in the fresh morning air, as if new-born. The only thingthat damped my pleasure was a cloud of something between sorrow anddelight that crossed my mind with the frequently returning thought of mylast night’s hostess. “But then,” thought I, “if she is sorry, I couldnot help it; and she has all the pleasures she ever had. Such a day asthis is surely a joy to her, as much at least as to me. And her lifewill perhaps be the richer, for holding now within it the memory of whatcame, but could not stay. And if ever she is a woman, who knows butwe may meet somewhere? there is plenty of room for meeting in theuniverse.” Comforting myself thus, yet with a vague compunction, as ifI ought not to have left her, I went on. There was little to distinguishthe woods to-day from those of my own land; except that all the wildthings, rabbits, birds, squirrels, mice, and the numberless otherinhabitants, were very tame; that is, they did not run away from me, butgazed at me as I passed, frequently coming nearer, as if to examineme more closely. Whether this came from utter ignorance, or fromfamiliarity with the human appearance of beings who never hurt them, Icould not tell. As I stood once, looking up to the splendid flower ofa parasite, which hung from the branch of a tree over my head, a largewhite rabbit cantered slowly up, put one of its little feet on one ofmine, and looked up at me with its red eyes, just as I had beenlooking up at the flower above me. I stooped and stroked it; but whenI attempted to lift it, it banged the ground with its hind feet andscampered off at a great rate, turning, however, to look at me severaltimes before I lost sight of it. Now and then, too, a dim human figurewould appear and disappear, at some distance, amongst the trees, movinglike a sleep-walker. But no one ever came near me.

  This day I found plenty of food in the forest--strange nuts and fruitsI had never seen before. I hesitated to eat them; but argued that, ifI could live on the air of Fairy Land, I could live on its food also. Ifound my reasoning correct, and the result was better than I had hoped;for it not only satisfied my hunger, but operated in such a way upon mysenses that I was brought into far more complete relationship with thethings around me. The human forms appeared much more dense and defined;more tangibly visible, if I may say so. I seemed to know better whichdirection to choose when any doubt arose. I began to feel in some degreewhat the birds meant in their songs, though I could not express it inwords, any more than you can some landscapes. At times, to my surprise,I found myself listening attentively, and as if it were no unusualthing with me, to a conversation between two squirrels or monkeys.The subjects were not very interesting, except as associated with theindividual life and necessities of the little creatures: where the bestnuts were to be found in the neighbourhood, and who could crack thembest, or who had most laid up for the winter, and such like; only theynever said where the store was. There was no great difference in kindbetween their talk and our ordinary human conversation. Some of thecreatures I never heard speak at all, and believe they never do so,except under the impulse of some great excitement. The mice talked; butthe hedgehogs seemed very phlegmatic; and though I met a couple of molesabove ground several times, they never said a word to each other in myhearing. There were no wild beasts in the forest; at least, I did notsee one larger than a wild cat. There were plenty of snakes, however,and I do not think they were all harmless; but none ever bit me.

  Soon after mid-day I arrived at a bare rocky hill, of no great size, butvery steep; and having no trees--scarcely even a bush--upon it, entirelyexposed to the heat of the sun. Over this my way seemed to lie, andI immediately began the ascent. On reaching the top, hot and weary, Ilooked around me, and saw that the forest still stretched as far as thesight could reach on every side of me. I observed that the trees, in thedirection in which I was about to descend, did not come so near thefoot of the hill as on the other side, and was especially regretting theunexpected postponement of shelter, because this side of the hill seemedmore difficult to descend than the other had been to climb, when my eyecaught the appearance of a natural path, winding down through brokenrocks and along the course of a tiny stream, which I hoped would leadme more easily to the foot. I tried it, and found the descent not at alllaborious; nevertheless, when I reached the bottom, I was very tired andexhausted with the heat. But just where the path seemed to end, rosea great rock, quite overgrown with shrubs and creeping plants, some ofthem in full and splendid blossom: these almost concealed an opening inthe rock, into which the path appeared to lead. I entered, thirsting forthe shade which it promised. What was my delight to find a rockycell, all the angles rounded away with rich moss, and every ledge andprojection crowded with lovely ferns, the variety of whose forms, andgroupings, and shades wrought in me like a poem; for such a harmonycould not exist, except they all consented to some one end! A littlewell of the clearest water filled a mossy hollow in one corner. I drank,and felt as if I knew what the elixir of life must be; then threw myselfon a mossy mound that lay like a couch along the inner end. Here I layin a delicious reverie for some time; during which all lovely forms, andcolours, and sounds seemed to use my brain as a common hall, where theycould come and go, unbidden and unexcused. I had never imagined thatsuch capacity for simple happiness lay in me, as was now awakened bythis assembly of forms and spiritual sensations, which yet were far toovague to admit of being translated into any shape common to my own andanother mind. I had lain for an hour, I should suppose, though it mayhave been far longer, when, the harmonious tumult in my mind havingsomewhat relaxed, I became aware that my eyes were fixed on a strange,time-worn bas-relief on the rock opposite to me. This, after somepondering, I concluded to represent Pygmalion, as he awaited thequickening of his statue. The sculptor sat more rigid than the figure towhich his eyes were turned. That seemed about to step from its pedestaland embrace the man, who waited rather than expected.

  “A lovely story,” I said to myself. “This cave, now, with the bushes cutaway from the entrance to let the light in, might be such a place as hewould choose, withdrawn from the notice of men, to set up his block ofmarble, and mould into a visible body the thought already clothed withform in the unseen hall of the sculptor’s brain. And, indeed, if Imistake not,” I said, starting up, as a sudden ray of light arrivedat that moment through a crevice in the roof, and lighted up a smallportion of the rock, bare of vegetation, “this very rock is marble,white enough and delicate enough for any statue, even if destined tobecome an ideal woman in the arms of the sculptor.”

  I took my knife and removed the moss from a part of the block on whichI had been lying; when, to my surprise, I found it more like alabasterthan ordinary marble, and soft to the edge of the knife. In fact, itwas alabaster. By an inexplicable, though by no means unusual kind ofimpulse, I went on removing the moss from the surface of the stone;and soon saw that it was polished, or at least smooth, throughout. Icontinued my labour; and after clearing a space of about a couple ofsquare feet, I observed what caused me to prosecute the work with moreinterest and care than before. For the ray of sunlight had now reachedthe spot I had cleared, and under its lustre the alabaster revealedits usual slight transparency when polished, except where my knife hadscratched the surface; and I observed that the transparency seemed tohave a definite limit, and to end upon an opaque body like the moresolid, white marble. I was careful to scratch no more. And first, avague anticipation gave way to a startling sense of possibility; then,as I proceeded, one revelation after another produced the entrancingconviction, that under the crust of alabaster lay a dimly visible formin marble, but whether of man or woman I could not yet tell. I worked onas rapidly as the necessary care would permit; and when I had uncoveredthe whole mass, and rising from my knees,
had retreated a little way,so that the effect of the whole might fall on me, I saw before mewith sufficient plainness--though at the same time with considerableindistinctness, arising from the limited amount of light the placeadmitted, as well as from the nature of the object itself--a block ofpure alabaster enclosing the form, apparently in marble, of a reposingwoman. She lay on one side, with her hand under her cheek, and her facetowards me; but her hair had fallen partly over her face, so that Icould not see the expression of the whole. What I did see appeared tome perfectly lovely; more near the face that had been born with me inmy soul, than anything I had seen before in nature or art. The actualoutlines of the rest of the form were so indistinct, that the more thansemi-opacity of the alabaster seemed insufficient to account forthe fact; and I conjectured that a light robe added its obscurity.Numberless histories passed through my mind of change of substance fromenchantment and other causes, and of imprisonments such as this beforeme. I thought of the Prince of the Enchanted City, half marble and halfa man; of Ariel; of Niobe; of the Sleeping Beauty in the Wood; of thebleeding trees; and many other histories. Even my adventure of thepreceding evening with the lady of the beech-tree contributed to arousethe wild hope, that by some means life might be given to this form also,and that, breaking from her alabaster tomb, she might glorify my eyeswith her presence. “For,” I argued, “who can tell but this cave may bethe home of Marble, and this, essential Marble--that spirit of marblewhich, present throughout, makes it capable of being moulded into anyform? Then if she should awake! But how to awake her? A kiss awokethe Sleeping Beauty! a kiss cannot reach her through the incrustingalabaster.” I kneeled, however, and kissed the pale coffin; but sheslept on. I bethought me of Orpheus, and the following stones--thattrees should follow his music seemed nothing surprising now. Might not asong awake this form, that the glory of motion might for a time displacethe loveliness of rest? Sweet sounds can go where kisses may not enter.I sat and thought. Now, although always delighting in music, I had neverbeen gifted with the power of song, until I entered the fairy forest. Ihad a voice, and I had a true sense of sound; but when I tried to sing,the one would not content the other, and so I remained silent. Thismorning, however, I had found myself, ere I was aware, rejoicing in asong; but whether it was before or after I had eaten of the fruitsof the forest, I could not satisfy myself. I concluded it was after,however; and that the increased impulse to sing I now felt, was in partowing to having drunk of the little well, which shone like a brillianteye in a corner of the cave. I sat down on the ground by the “antenataltomb,” leaned upon it with my face towards the head of the figurewithin, and sang--the words and tones coming together, and inseparablyconnected, as if word and tone formed one thing; or, as if each wordcould be uttered only in that tone, and was incapable of distinctionfrom it, except in idea, by an acute analysis. I sang something likethis: but the words are only a dull representation of a state whosevery elevation precluded the possibility of remembrance; and in which Ipresume the words really employed were as far above these, as that statetranscended this wherein I recall it:

  “Marble woman, vainly sleeping In the very death of dreams! Wilt thou--slumber from thee sweeping, All but what with vision teems-- Hear my voice come through the golden Mist of memory and hope; And with shadowy smile embolden Me with primal Death to cope?

  “Thee the sculptors all pursuing, Have embodied but their own; Round their visions, form enduring, Marble vestments thou hast thrown; But thyself, in silence winding, Thou hast kept eternally; Thee they found not, many finding-- I have found thee: wake for me.”

  As I sang, I looked earnestly at the face so vaguely revealed before me.I fancied, yet believed it to be but fancy, that through the dim veilof the alabaster, I saw a motion of the head as if caused by a sinkingsigh. I gazed more earnestly, and concluded that it was but fancy.Neverthless I could not help singing again--

  “Rest is now filled full of beauty, And can give thee up, I ween; Come thou forth, for other duty Motion pineth for her queen.

  “Or, if needing years to wake thee From thy slumbrous solitudes, Come, sleep-walking, and betake thee To the friendly, sleeping woods.

  Sweeter dreams are in the forest, Round thee storms would never rave; And when need of rest is sorest, Glide thou then into thy cave.

  “Or, if still thou choosest rather Marble, be its spell on me; Let thy slumber round me gather, Let another dream with thee!”

  Again I paused, and gazed through the stony shroud, as if, by very forceof penetrative sight, I would clear every lineament of the lovely face.And now I thought the hand that had lain under the cheek, had slippeda little downward. But then I could not be sure that I had at firstobserved its position accurately. So I sang again; for the longing hadgrown into a passionate need of seeing her alive--

  “Or art thou Death, O woman? for since I Have set me singing by thy side, Life hath forsook the upper sky, And all the outer world hath died.

  “Yea, I am dead; for thou hast drawn My life all downward unto thee. Dead moon of love! let twilight dawn: Awake! and let the darkness flee.

  “Cold lady of the lovely stone! Awake! or I shall perish here; And thou be never more alone, My form and I for ages near.

  “But words are vain; reject them all-- They utter but a feeble part: Hear thou the depths from which they call, The voiceless longing of my heart.”

  There arose a slightly crashing sound. Like a sudden apparition thatcomes and is gone, a white form, veiled in a light robe of whiteness,burst upwards from the stone, stood, glided forth, and gleamed awaytowards the woods. For I followed to the mouth of the cave, as soonas the amazement and concentration of delight permitted the nerves ofmotion again to act; and saw the white form amidst the trees, as itcrossed a little glade on the edge of the forest where the sunlight fellfull, seeming to gather with intenser radiance on the one object thatfloated rather than flitted through its lake of beams. I gazed after herin a kind of despair; found, freed, lost! It seemed useless to follow,yet follow I must. I marked the direction she took; and without oncelooking round to the forsaken cave, I hastened towards the forest.