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PHANTASTES
A FAERIE ROMANCE
"Phantastes from `their fount all shapes deriving,
In new habiliments can quickly dight."
{Below is raw OCR it has not been proofed as i cannot read it!}
"Es lassen sich Erzahlungen ohne Zusammenhang, jedoch mit
Association, wie Traume dengkeennohgneedizhusamdimenhang; jedoeh
mit und voll schoner Worte sind, aber auch ohne allen Sinn und
Zusammenhang, hochstens einzelne Strophen verstandlich, wie
Bruchstucke aus den verjschledenartigsten Dingen, Diese svahre
Poesie kann Wlrkung, wie Musik haben. Darum ist die Natur so
rein poetisch wle die Stube eines Zauberers, eines Physikers,
eine Kinderstube elne Polterund Vorrathskammer
"Ein Mahrchen ist wie ein Traumbild ohne Zusammenhang. Ein
Ensemble wunderbarer Dinge und Begebenheiten, z. B. eine
dMusNkalische Pbantasie, die harmonischen Folgen einer
Aeolsharfe, die Natur slebst.
. . . . . . . . . .
"In einem echten Mahrchen muss ailes wunderbar, geheimnissvoll
undzusammenhangendsein; alles belebt, jeder auf eineandereArt Die
ganze Natur muss wunderlich mit der ganzen Geisterwelt gemiseht
sein; hier tritt die Zeit der Anarehie, der Gesetzlosigkeit
Frelheit, der Naturstand der Natur, die Zeit von der Welt ein
entgegengesetztes und eben daruel'ndiehr Weld der Wahrheit
durehaus Chaos der vollendeten Sehopfung ahnlich ist."--NOVALIS.
~~~
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"A spirit . . |
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The |
undulating and silent well, |
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rippling rivulet, and evening gloom, |
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deepening the dark shades, for |
speech assuming, |
Held commune with him; as if he and it
Were all that was."
I awoke one morning with the usual perplexity of mind which
accompanies the return of consciousness. As I lay and looked
through the eastern window of my room, a faint streak of peach-
colour, dividing a cloud that just rose above the low swell of
the horizon, announced the approach of the sun. As my thoughts,
which a deep and apparently dreamless sleep had dissolved, began
again to assume crystalline forms, the strange events of the
foregoing night presented themselves anew to my wondering
consciousness. The day before had been my one-and-twentieth
birthday. Among other ceremonies investing me with my legal
rights, the keys of an old secretary, in which my father had kept
his private papers, had been delivered up to me. As soon as I
was left alone, I ordered lights in the chamber where the
secretary stood, the first lights that had been there for many a
year; for, since my father's death, the room had been left
undisturbed. But, as if the darkness had been too long an inmate
to be easily expelled, and had dyed with blackness the walls to
which, bat-like, it had clung, these tapers served but ill to
light up the gloomy hangings, and seemed to throw yet darker
shadows into the hollows of the deep-wrought cornice. All the
further portions of the room lay shrouded in a mystery whose
deepest folds were gathered around the dark oak cabinet which I
now approached with a strange mingling of reverence and
curiosity. Perhaps, like a geologist, I was about to turn up to
the light some of the buried strata of the human world, with its
fossil remains charred by passion and petrified by tears.
Perhaps I was to learn how my father, whose personal history was
unknown to me, had woven his web of story; how he had found the
world, and how the world had left him. Perhaps I was to find
only the records of lands and moneys, how gotten and how secured;
coming down from strange men, and through troublous times, to me,
who knew little or nothing of them all. To solve my
speculations, and to dispel the awe which was fast gathering
around me as if the dead were drawing near, I approached the
secretary; and having found the key that fitted the upper
portion, I opened it with some difficulty, drew near it a heavy
high-backed chair, and sat down before a multitude of little
drawers and slides and pigeon-holes. But the door of a little
cupboard in the centre especially attracted my interest, as if
there lay the secret of this long-hidden world. Its key I found.
One of the rusty hinges cracked and broke as I opened the door:
it revealed a number of small pigeon-holes. These, however,
being but shallow compared with the depth of those around the
little cupboard, the outer ones reaching to the back of the desk,
I concluded that there must be some accessible space behind; and
found, indeed, that they were formed in a separate framework,
which admitted of the whole being pulled out in one piece.
Behind, I found a sort of flexible portcullis of small bars of
wood laid close together horizontally. After long search, and
trying many ways to move it, I discovered at last a scarcely
projecting point of steel on one side. I pressed this repeatedly
and hard with the point of an old tool that was lying near, till
at length it yielded inwards; and the little slide, flying up
suddenly, disclosed a chamber--empty, except that in one corner
lay a little heap of withered rose-leaves, whose long- lived
scent had long since departed; and, in another, a small packet of
papers, tied with a bit of ribbon, whose colour had gone with the
rose-scent. Almost fearing to touch them, they witnessed so
mutely to the law of oblivion, I leaned back in my chair, and
regarded them for a moment; when suddenly there stood on the
threshold of the little chamber, as though she had just emerged
from its depth, a tiny woman-form, as perfect in shape as if she
had been a small Greek statuette roused to life and motion. Her
dress was of a kind that could never grow old- fashioned, because
it was simply natural: a robe plaited in a band around the neck,
and confined by a belt about the waist, descended to her feet.
It was only afterwards, however, that I took notice of her dress,
although my surprise was by no means of so overpowering a degree
as such an apparition might naturally be expected to excite.
Seeing, however, as I suppose, some astonishment in my
countenance, she came forward within a yard of me, and said, in a
voice that strangely recalled a sensation of twilight, and reedy
river banks, and a low wind, even in this deathly room:--
"Anodos, you never saw such a little creature before, did you?"
"No," said I; "and indeed I hardly believe I do now."
"Ah! that is always the way with you men; you believe nothing the
first time; and it is foolish enough to let mere repetition
convince you of what you consider in itself unbelievable. I am
not going to argue with you, however, but to grant you a wish."
Here I could not help interrupting her with the foolish speech,
of which, however, I had no cause to repent--
"How can such a very little creature as you grant or
refuse anything?"
"Is that all the philosophy you have gained in one-and-twenty
years?" said she. "Form is much, but size is nothing. It is a
mere matter of relation. I suppose your six-foot lordship does
not feel altogether insignificant, though to others you do look
small beside your old Uncle Ralph, who rises above you a great
half-foot at least. But size is of so little consequence with
old me, that I may as well accommodate myself to your foolish
prejudices."
So saying, she leapt from the desk upon the floor, where she
stood a tall, gracious lady, with pale face and large blue eyes.
Her dark hair flowed behind, wavy but uncurled, down to her
waist, and against it her form stood clear in its robe of white.
"Now," said she, "you will believe me."
Overcome with the presence of a beauty which I could now
perceive, and drawn towards her by an attraction irresistible as
incomprehensible, I suppose I stretched out my arms towards her,
for she drew back a step or two, and said--
"Foolish boy, if you could touch me, I should hurt you. Besides,
I was two hundred and thirty-seven years old, last Midsummer eve;
and a man must not fall in love with his grandmother, you know."
"But you are not my grandmother," said I.
"How do you know that?" she retorted. "I dare say you know
something of your great-grandfathers a good deal further back
than that; but you know very little about your great-grandmothers
on either side. Now, to the point. Your little sister was
reading a fairy-tale to you last night."
"She was."
"When she had finished, she said, as she closed the book, `Is
there a fairy-country, brother?' You replied with a sigh, `I
suppose there is, if one could find the way into it.'"
"I did; but I meant something quite different from what you seem
to think."
"Never mind what I seem to think. You shall find the way into
Fairy Land to-morrow. Now look in my eyes."
Eagerly I did so. They filled me with an unknown longing. I
remembered somehow that my mother died when I was a baby. I
looked deeper and deeper, till they spread around me like seas,
and I sank in their waters. I forgot all the rest, till I found
myself at the window, whose gloomy curtains were withdrawn, and
where I stood gazing on a whole heaven of stars, small and
sparkling in the moonlight. Below lay a sea, still as death and
hoary in the moon, sweeping into bays and around capes and
islands, away, away, I knew not whither. Alas! it was no sea,
but a low bog burnished by the moon. "Surely there is such a sea
somewhere!" said I to myself. A low sweet voice beside me
replied--
"In Fairy Land, Anodos."
I turned, but saw no one. I closed the secretary, and went to my
own room, and to bed.
All this I recalled as I lay with half-closed eyes. I was soon
to find the truth of the lady's promise, that this day I should
discover the road into Fairy Land.
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