Phantastes: A Faerie Romance for Men and Women — John Shaqi
Phantastes: A Faerie Romance for Men and WomenMacDonald, George
Science
Phantastes: A Faerie Romance for Men and Women
MacDonald, George
Fantasy fiction
I may as well mention here, that the conclusion I arrived at from the
observations I was afterwards able to make, was, that the flowers die
because the fairies go away; not that the fairies disappear because the
flowers die. The flowers seem a sort of houses for them, or outer
bodies, which they can put on or off when they please. Just as you
could form some idea of the nature of a man from the kind of house he
built, if he followed his own taste, so you could, without seeing the
fairies, tell what any one of them is like, by looking at the flower
till you feel that you understand it. For just what the flower says to
you, would the face and form of the fairy say; only so much more
plainly as a face and human figure can express more than a flower. For
the house or the clothes, though like the inhabitant or the wearer,
cannot be wrought into an equal power of utterance. Yet you would see a
strange resemblance, almost oneness, between the flower and the fairy,
which you could not describe, but which described itself to you.
Whether all the flowers have fairies, I cannot determine, any more than
I can be sure whether all men and women have souls.
The woman and I continued the conversation for a few minutes longer. I
was much interested by the information she gave me, and astonished at
the language in which she was able to convey it. It seemed that
intercourse with the fairies was no bad education in itself. But now
the daughter returned with the news, that the Ash had just gone away in
a south-westerly direction; and, as my course seemed to lie eastward,
she hoped I should be in no danger of meeting him if I departed at
once. I looked out of the little window, and there stood the ash-tree,
to my eyes the same as before; but I believed that they knew better
than I did, and prepared to go. I pulled out my purse, but to my dismay
there was nothing in it. The woman with a smile begged me not to
trouble myself, for money was not of the slightest use there; and as I
might meet with people in my journeys whom I could not recognise to be
fairies, it was well I had no money to offer, for nothing offended them
so much.
“They would think,” she added, “that you were making game of them; and
that is their peculiar privilege with regard to us.” So we went
together into the little garden which sloped down towards a lower part
of the wood.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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