{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_18859/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_18859","id":"gutenberg_18859","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18859","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Novels","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Children's stories, English","Fairy tales","Fairy tales -- Great Britain","Short stories"],"text":"Produced by John Bechard (JaBBechard@aol.com)\n\n\n\n\n\nCROSS PURPOSES\n\nby George MacDonald\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\nCROSS PURPOSES\nTHE SHADOWS\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCROSS PURPOSES\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\n\nOnce upon a time, the Queen of Fairyland, finding her own subjects far\ntoo well-behaved to be amusing, took a sudden longing to have a mortal\nor two at her Court. So, after looking about her for some time, she\nfixed upon two to bring to Fairyland.\n\nBut how were they to be brought?\n\n\"Please your majesty,\" said at last the daughter of the prime-minister,\n\"I will bring the girl.\"\n\nThe speaker, whose name was Peaseblossom, after her\ngreat-great-grandmother, looked so graceful, and hung her head\nso apologetically, that the Queen said at once,--\n\n\"How will you manage it, Peaseblossom?\"\n\n\"I will open the road before her, and close it behind her.\"\n\n\"I have heard that you have pretty ways of doing things; so you may\ntry.\"\n\nThe court happened to be held in an open forest-glade of smooth turf,\nupon which there was just one mole-heap. As soon as the Queen had given\nher permission to Peaseblossom, up through the mole-heap came the head\nof a goblin, which cried out,--\n\n\"Please your majesty, I will bring the boy.\"\n\n\"You!\" exclaimed the Queen. \"How will you do it?\"\n\nThe goblin began to wriggle himself out of the earth, as if he had been\na snake, and the whole world his skin, till the court was convulsed\nwith laughter. As soon as he got free, he began to roll over and over,\nin every possible manner, rotatory and cylindrical, all at once, until\nhe reached the wood. The courtiers followed, holding their sides, so\nthat the Queen was left sitting upon her throne in solitary state.\n\nWhen they reached the wood, the goblin, whose name was Toadstool, was\nnowhere to be seen. While they were looking for him, out popped his\nhead from the mole-heap again, with the words,--\n\n\"So, your majesty.\"\n\n\"You have taken your own time to answer,\" said the Queen, laughing.\n\n\"And my own way too, eh! your majesty?\" rejoined Toadstool, grinning.\n\n\"No doubt. Well, you may try.\"\n\nAnd the goblin, making as much of a bow as he could with only half his\nneck above ground, disappeared under it.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n\nNo mortal, or fairy either, can tell where Fairyland begins and where\nit ends. But somewhere on the borders of Fairyland there was a nice\ncountry village, in which lived some nice country people.\n\nAlice was the daughter of the squire, a pretty, good-natured girl, whom\nher friends called fairy-like, and others called silly.\n\nOne rosy summer evening, when the wall opposite her window was flaked\nall over with rosiness, she threw herself down on her bed, and lay\ngazing at the wall. The rose-colour sank through her eyes and dyed her\nbrain, and she began to feel as if she were reading a story-book. She\nthought she was looking at a western sea, with the waves all red with\nsunset. But when the colour died out, Alice gave a sigh to see how\ncommonplace the wall grew. \"I wish it was always sunset!\" she said,\nhalf aloud. \"I don't like gray things.\"\n\n\"I will take you where the sun is always setting, if you like, Alice,\"\nsaid a sweet, tiny voice near her. She looked down on the coverlet of\nthe bed, and there, looking up at her, stood a lovely little creature.\nIt seemed quite natural that the little lady should be there; for many\nthings we never could believe, have only to happen, and then there is\nnothing strange about them. She was dressed in white, with a cloak of\nsunset-red--the colours of the sweetest of sweet-peas. On her head was\na crown of twisted tendrils, with a little gold beetle in front.\n\n\"Are you a fairy?\" said Alice.\n\n\"Yes. Will you go with me to the sunset?\"\n\n\"Yes, I will.\"\n\nWhen Alice proceeded to rise, she found that she was no bigger than the\nfairy; and when she stood up on the counterpane, the bed looked like a\ngreat hall with a painted ceiling. As she walked towards Peaseblossom,\nshe stumbled several times over the tufts that made the pattern. But\nthe fairy took her by the hand and led her towards the foot of the bed.\nLong before they reached it, however, Alice saw that the fairy was a\ntall, slender lady, and that she herself was quite her own size. What\nshe had taken for tufts on the counterpane were really bushes of furze,\nand broom, and heather, on the side of a slope.\n\n\"Where are we?\" asked Alice.\n\n\"Going on,\" answered the fairy.\n\nAlice, not liking the reply, said,--\n\n\"I want to go home.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, then!\" answered the fairy.\n\nAlice looked round. A wide, hilly country lay all about them. She could\nnot even tell from what quarter they had come.\n\n\"I must go with you, I see,\" she said.\n\nBefore they reached the bottom, they were walking over the loveliest\nmeadow-grass. A little stream went cantering down beside them, without\nchannel or bank, sometimes running between the blades, sometimes\nsweeping the grass all one way under it. And it made a great babbling\nfor such a little stream and such a smooth course.\n\nGradually the slope grew gentler, and the stream flowed more softly and\nspread out wider. At length they came to a wood of long, straight\npoplars, growing out of the water, for the stream ran into the wood,\nand there stretched out into a lake. Alice thought they could go no\nfarther; but Peaseblossom led her straight on, and they walked through.\n\nIt was now dark; but everything under the water gave out a pale, quiet\nlight. There were deep pools here and there, but there was no mud, or\nfrogs, or water-lizards, or eels. All the bottom was pure, lovely\ngrass, brilliantly green. Down the banks of the pools she saw, all\nunder water, primroses and violets and pimpernels. Any flower she\nwished to see she had only to look for, and she was sure to find it.\nWhen a pool came in their way, the fairy swam, and Alice swam by her;\nand when they got out they were quite dry, though the water was as\ndelightfully wet as water should be. Besides the trees, tall, splendid\nlilies grew out of it, and hollyhocks and irises and sword-plants, and\nmany other long-stemmed flowers. From every leaf and petal of these,\nfrom every branch-tip and tendril, dropped bright water. It gathered\nslowly at each point, but the points were so many that there was a\nconstant musical plashing of diamond rain upon the still surface of the\nlake. As they went on, the moon rose and threw a pale mist of light\nover the whole, and the diamond drops turned to half-liquid pearls, and\nround every tree-top was a halo of moonlight, and the water went to\nsleep, and the flowers began to dream.\n\n\"Look,\" said the fairy; \"those lilies are just dreaming themselves into\na child's sleep. I can see them smiling. This is the place out of which\ngo the things that appear to children every night.\"\n\n\"Is this dreamland, then?\" asked Alice.\n\n\"If you like,\" answered the fairy.\n\n\"How far am I from home?\"\n\n\"The farther you go, the nearer home you are.\"\n\nThen the fairy lady gathered a bundle of poppies and gave it to Alice.\nThe next deep pool that they came to, she told her to throw it in.\nAlice did so, and following it, laid her head upon it. That moment she\nbegan to sink. Down and down she went, till at last she felt herself\nlying on the long, thick grass at the bottom of the pool, with the\npoppies under her head and the clear water high over it. Up through it\nshe saw the moon, whose bright face looked sleepy too, disturbed only\nby the little ripples of the rain from the tall flowers on the edges of\nthe pool.\n\nShe fell fast asleep, and all night dreamed about home.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\n\nRichard--which is name enough for a fairy story--was the son of a widow\nin Alice's village. He was so poor that he did not find himself\ngenerally welcome; so he hardly went anywhere, but read books at home,\nand waited upon his mother. His manners, therefore, were shy, and\nsufficiently awkward to give an unfavourable impression to those who\nlooked at outsides. Alice would have despised him; but he never came\nnear enough for that.\n\nNow Richard had been saving up his few pence in order to buy an\numbrella for his mother; for the winter would come, and the one she had\nwas almost torn to ribands. One bright summer evening, when he thought\numbrellas must be cheap, he was walking across the market-place to buy\none: there, in the middle of it, stood an odd-looking little man,\nactually selling umbrellas. Here was a chance for him! When he drew\nnearer, he found that the little man, while vaunting his umbrellas to\nthe skies, was asking such absurdly small prices for them, that no one\nwould venture to buy one. He had opened and laid them all out at full\nstretch on the market-place--about five-and-twenty of them, stick\ndownwards, like little tents--and he stood beside, haranguing the\npeople. But he would not allow one of the crowd to touch his umbrellas.\nAs soon as his eye fell upon Richard, he changed his tone, and said,\n\"Well, as nobody seems inclined to buy, I think, my dear umbrellas, we\nhad better be going home.\" Whereupon the umbrellas got up, with some\ndifficulty, and began hobbling away. The people stared at each other\nwith open mouths, for they saw that what they had taken for a lot of\numbrellas, was in reality a flock of black geese. A great turkey-cock\nwent gobbling behind them, driving them all down a lane towards the\nforest. Richard thought with himself, \"There is more in this than I can\naccount for. But an umbrella that could lay eggs would be a very jolly\numbrella.\" So by the time the people were beginning to laugh at each\nother, Richard was half-way down the lane at the heels of the geese.\nThere he stooped and caught one of them, but instead of a goose he had\na huge hedgehog in his hands, which he dropped in dismay; whereupon it\nwaddled away a goose as before, and the whole of them began cackling\nand hissing in a way that he could not mistake. For the turkey-cock, he\ngobbled and gabbled and choked himself and got right again in the most\nridiculous manner. In fact, he seemed sometimes to forget that he was a\nturkey, and laughed like a fool. All at once, with a simultaneous\nlong-necked hiss, they flew into the wood, and the turkey after them.\nBut Richard soon got up with them again, and found them all hanging by\ntheir feet from the trees, in two rows, one on each side of the path,\nwhile the turkey was walking on. Him Richard followed; but the moment\nhe reached the middle of the suspended geese, from every side arose the\nmost frightful hisses, and their necks grew longer and longer, till\nthere were nearly thirty broad bills close to his head, blowing in his\nface, in his ears, and at the back of his neck. But the turkey, looking\nround and seeing what was going on, turned and walked back. When he\nreached the place, he looked up at the first and gobbled at him in the\nwildest manner. That goose grew silent and dropped from the tree. Then\nhe went to the next, and the next, and so on, till he had gobbled them\nall off the trees, one after another. But when Richard expected to see\nthem go after the turkey, there was nothing there but a flock of huge\nmushrooms and puff-balls.\n\n\"I have had enough of this,\" thought Richard. \"I will go home again.\"\n\n\"Go home, Richard,\" said a voice close to him.\n\nLooking down, he saw, instead of the turkey, the most comical-looking\nlittle man he had ever seen.\n\n\"Go home, Master Richard,\" repeated he, grinning.\n\n\"Not for your bidding,\" answered Richard.\n\n\"Come on, then, Master Richard.\"\n\n\"Nor that either, without a good reason.\"\n\n\"I will give you _such_ an umbrella for your mother.\"\n\n\"I don't take presents from strangers.\"\n\n\"Bless you, I'm no stranger here! Oh, no! not at all.\" And he set off\nin the manner usual with him, rolling every way at once.\n\nRichard could not help laughing and following. At length Toadstool\nplumped into a great hole full of water. \"Served him right!\" thought\nRichard. \"Served him right!\" bawled the goblin, crawling out again, and\nshaking the water from him like a spaniel. \"This is the very place I\nwanted, only I rolled too fast.\" However, he went on rolling again\nfaster than before, though it was now uphill, till he came to the top\nof a considerable height, on which grew a number of palm-trees.\n\n\"Have you a knife, Richard?\" said the goblin, stopping all at once, as\nif he had been walking quietly along, just like other people.\n\nRichard pulled out a pocket-knife and gave it to the creature, who\ninstantly cut a deep gash in one of the trees. Then he bounded to\nanother and did the same, and so on till he had gashed them all.\nRichard, following him, saw that a little stream, clearer than the\nclearest water, began to flow from each, increasing in size the longer\nit flowed. Before he had reached the last there was quite a tinkling\nand rustling of the little rills that ran down the stems of the palms.\nThis grew and grew, till Richard saw that a full rivulet was flowing\ndown the side of the hill.\n\n\"Here is your knife, Richard,\" said the goblin; but by the time he had\nput it in his pocket, the rivulet had grown to a small torrent.\n\n\"Now, Richard, come along,\" said Toadstool, and threw himself into the\ntorrent.\n\n\"I would rather have a boat,\" returned Richard.\n\n\"Oh, you stupid!\" cried Toadstool crawling up the side of the hill,\ndown which the stream had already carried him some distance.\n\nWith every contortion that labour and difficulty could suggest, yet\nwith incredible rapidity, he crawled to the very top of one of the\ntrees, and tore down a huge leaf, which he threw on the ground, and\nhimself after it, rebounding like a ball. He then laid the leaf on the\nwater, held it by the stem, and told Richard to get upon it. He did so.\nIt went down deep in the middle with his weight. Toadstool let it go,\nand it shot down the stream like an arrow. This began the strangest and\nmost delightful voyage. The stream rushed careering and curveting down\nthe hill-side, bright as a diamond, and soon reached a meadow plain.\nThe goblin rolled alongside of the boat like a bundle of weeds; but\nRichard rode in triumph through the low grassy country upon the back of\nhis watery steed. It went straight as an arrow, and, strange to tell,\nwas heaped up on the ground, like a ridge of water or a wave, only\nrushing on endways. It needed no channel, and turned aside for no\nopposition. It flowed over everything that crossed its path, like a\ngreat serpent of water, with folds fitting into all the ups and downs\nof the way. If a wall came in its course it flowed against it, heaping\nitself up on itself till it reached the top, whence it plunged to the\nfoot on the other side, and flowed on. Soon he found that it was\nrunning gently up a grassy hill. The waves kept curling back as if the\nwind blew them, or as if they could hardly keep from running down\nagain. But still the stream mounted and flowed, and the waves with it.\nIt found it difficult, but it could do it. When they reached the top,\nit bore them across a heathy country, rolling over purple heather, and\nblue harebells, and delicate ferns, and tall foxgloves crowded with\nbells purple and white. All the time the palm-leaf curled its edges\naway from the water, and made a delightful boat for Richard, while\nToadstool tumbled along in the stream like a porpoise. At length the\nwater began to run very fast, and went faster and faster, till suddenly\nit plunged them into a deep lake, with a great splash, and stopped\nthere. Toadstool went out of sight, and came up gasping and grinning,\nwhile Richard's boat tossed and heaved like a vessel in a storm at sea;\nbut not a drop of water came in. Then the goblin began to swim, and\npushed and tugged the boat along. But the lake was so still, and the\nmotion so pleasant, that Richard fell fast asleep.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\n\nWhen he woke he found himself still afloat upon the broad palm-leaf. He\nwas alone in the middle of a lake, with flowers and trees growing in\nand out of it everywhere. The sun was just over the tree-tops. A drip\nof water from the flowers greeted him with music; the mists were\ndissolving away, and where the sunlight fell on the lake the water was\nclear as glass. Casting his eyes downward, he saw, just beneath him,\nfar down at the bottom, Alice drowned, as he thought. He was in the act\nof plunging in, when he saw her open her eyes, and at the same moment\nbegin to float up. He held out his hand, but she repelled it with\ndisdain, and swimming to a tree, sat down on a low branch, wondering\nhow ever the poor widow's son could have found his way into Fairyland.\nShe did not like it. It was an invasion of privilege.\n\n\"How did you come here, young Richard?\" she asked, from six yards off.\n\n\"A goblin brought me.\"\n\n\"Ah! I thought so. A fairy brought me.\"\n\n\"Where is your fairy?\"\n\n\"Here I am,\" said Peaseblossom, rising slowly to the surface just by\nthe tree on which Alice was seated.\n\n\"Where is your goblin?\" retorted Alice.\n\n\"Here I am,\" bawled Toadstool, rushing out of the water like a salmon,\nand casting a summersault in the air before he fell in again with a\ntremendous splash. His head rose again close beside Peaseblossom, who\nbeing used to such creatures only laughed.\n\n\"Isn't he handsome?\" he grinned.\n\n\"Yes, very. He wants polishing, though.\"\n\n\"You could do that for yourself, you know. Shall we change?\"\n\n\"I don't mind. You'll find her rather silly.\"\n\n\"That's nothing. The boy's too sensible for me.\"\n\nHe dived, and rose at Alice's feet. She shrieked with terror. The fairy\nfloated away like a water-lily towards Richard. \"What a lovely\ncreature!\" thought he; but hearing Alice shriek again, he said,\n\n\"Don't leave Alice; she's frightened at that queer creature.--I don't\nthink there's any harm in him, though, Alice.\"\n\n\"Oh, no! He won't hurt her,\" said Peaseblossom. \"I'm tired of her. He's\ngoing to take her to the court, and I will take you.\"\n\n\"I don't want to go.\"\n\n\"But you must. You can't go home again. You don't know the way.\"\n\n\"Richard! Richard!\" cried Alice, in an agony.\n\nRichard sprang from his boat, and was by her side in a moment.\n\n\"He pinched me,\" cried Alice.\n\nRichard hit the goblin a terrible blow on the head; but it took no more\neffect upon him than if his head had been a round ball of india-rubber.\nHe gave Richard a furious look, however, and bawling out, \"You'll\nrepent that, Dick!\" vanished under the water.\n\n\"Come along, Richard; make haste; he will murder you,\" cried the fairy.\n\n\"It is all your fault,\" said Richard. \"I won't leave Alice.\"\n\nThen the fairy saw it was all over with her and Toadstool; for they can\ndo nothing with mortals against their will. So she floated away across\nthe water in Richard's boat, holding her robe for a sail, and vanished,\nleaving the two alone in the lake.\n\n\"You have driven away my fairy!\" cried Alice. \"I shall never get home\nnow. It is all your fault, you naughty young man.\"\n\n\"I drove away the goblin,\" remonstrated Richard.\n\n\"Will you please to sit on the other side of the tree? I wonder what my\npapa would say if he saw me talking to you!\"\n\n\"Will you come to the next tree, Alice?\" said Richard, after a pause.\n\nAlice, who had been crying all the time that Richard was thinking, said\n\"I won't.\" Richard, therefore, plunged into the water without her, and\nswam for the tree. Before he had got half-way, however, he heard Alice\ncrying \"Richard! Richard!\" This was just what he wanted. So he turned\nback, and Alice threw herself into the water. With Richard's help she\nswam pretty well, and they reached the tree. \"Now for the next!\" said\nRichard; and they swam to the next, and then to the third. Every tree\nthey reached was larger than the last, and every tree before them was\nlarger still. So they swam from tree to tree, till they came to one\nthat was so large that they could not see round it. What was to be\ndone? Clearly to climb this tree. It was a dreadful prospect for Alice,\nbut Richard proceeded to climb; and by putting her feet where he put his,\nand now and then getting hold of his ankle, she managed to make\nher way up. There were a great many stumps where branches had withered\noff, and the bark was nearly as rough as a hill-side, so there was\nplenty of foothold for them. When they had climbed a long time, and\nwere getting very tired indeed, Alice cried out, \"Richard, I shall\ndrop--I shall. Why did you come this way?\" And she began once more to\ncry. But at that moment Richard caught hold of a branch above his head,\nand reaching down his other hand got hold of Alice, and held her till\nshe had recovered a little. In a few moments more they reached the fork\nof the tree, and there they sat and rested. \"This is capital!\" said\nRichard, cheerily.\n\n\"What is?\" asked Alice, sulkily.\n\n\"Why, we have room to rest, and there's no hurry for a minute or two.\nI'm tired.\"\n\n\"You selfish creature!\" said Alice. \"If you are tired, what must I be!\"\n\n\"Tired too,\" answered Richard. \"But we've got on bravely. And look!\nwhat's that?\"\n\nBy this time the day was gone, and the night so near, that in the\nshadows of the tree all was dusky and dim. But there was still light\nenough to discover that in a niche of the tree sat a huge horned owl,\nwith green spectacles on his beak, and a book in one foot. He took no\nheed of the intruders, but kept muttering to himself. And what do you\nthink the owl was saying? I will tell you. He was talking about the\nbook that he held upside down in his foot.\n\n\"Stupid book this-s-s-s! Nothing in it at all! Everything upside down!\nStupid ass-s-s-s! Says owls can't read! _I_ can read backwards!\"\n\n\"I think that is the goblin again,\" said Richard, in a whisper.\n\"However, if you ask a plain question, he must give you a plain answer,\nfor they are not allowed to tell downright lies in Fairyland.\"\n\n\"Don't ask him, Richard; you know you gave him a dreadful blow.\"\n\n\"I gave him what he deserved, and he owes me the same.--Hallo! which is\nthe way out?\"\n\nHe wouldn't say _if you please_, because then it would not have been a\nplain question.\n\n\"Down-stairs,\" hissed the owl, without ever lifting his eyes from the\nbook, which all the time he read upside down, so learned was he.\n\n\"On your honour, as a respectable old owl?\" asked Richard.\n\n\"No,\" hissed the owl; and Richard was almost sure that he was not\nreally an owl. So he stood staring at him for a few moments, when all\nat once, without lifting his eyes from the book, the owl said, \"I will\nsing a song,\" and began:--\n\n \"Nobody knows the world but me.\n  When they're all in bed, I sit up to see\n  I'm a better student than students all,\n  For I never read till the darkness fall;\n  And I never read without my glasses,\n  And that is how my wisdom passes.\n    Howlowlwhoolhoolwoolool.\n\n \"I can see the wind. Now who can do that?\n  I see the dreams that he has in his hat;\n  I see him snorting them out as he goes--\n  Out at his stupid old trumpet-nose.\n  Ten thousand things that you couldn't think\n  I write them down with pen and ink.\n    Howlowlwhooloolwhitit that's wit.\n\n \"You may call it learning--'tis mother-wit.\n  No one else sees the lady-moon sit\n  On the sea, her nest, all night, but the owl,\n  Hatching the boats and the long-legged fowl.\n  When the oysters gape to sing by rote,\n  She crams a pearl down each stupid throat.\n    Howlowlwhitit that's wit, there's a fowl!\"\n\nAnd so singing, he threw the book in Richard's face, spread out his\ngreat, silent, soft wings, and sped away into the depths of the tree.\nWhen the book struck Richard, he found that it was only a lump of wet\nmoss.\n\nWhile talking to the owl he had spied a hollow behind one of the\nbranches. Judging this to be the way the owl meant, he went to see, and\nfound a rude, ill-defined staircase going down into the very heart of\nthe trunk. But so large was the tree that this could not have hurt it\nin the least. Down this stair, then, Richard scrambled as best he\ncould, followed by Alice--not of her own will, she gave him clearly to\nunderstand, but because she could do no better. Down, down they went,\nslipping and falling sometimes, but never very far, because the stair\nwent round and round. It caught Richard when he slipped, and he caught\nAlice when she did. They had begun to fear that there was no end to the\nstair, it went round and round so steadily, when, creeping through a\ncrack, they found themselves in a great hall, supported by thousands of\npillars of gray stone. Where the little light came from they could not\ntell. This hall they began to cross in a straight line, hoping to reach\none side, and intending to walk along it till they came to some\nopening. They kept straight by going from pillar to pillar, as they had\ndone before by the trees. Any honest plan will do in Fairyland, if you\nonly stick to it. And no plan will do if you do not stick to it.\n\nIt was very silent, and Alice disliked the silence more than the\ndimness,--so much, indeed, that she longed to hear Richard's voice. But\nshe had always been so cross to him when he had spoken, that he thought\nit better to let her speak first; and she was too proud to do that. She\nwould not even let him walk alongside of her, but always went slower\nwhen he wanted to wait for her; so that at last he strode on alone. And\nAlice followed. But by degrees the horror of silence grew upon her, and\nshe felt at last as if there was no one in the universe but herself.\nThe hall went on widening around her; their footsteps made no noise;\nthe silence grew so intense that it seemed on the point of taking\nshape. At last she could bear it no longer. She ran after Richard, got\nup with him, and laid hold of his arm.\n\nHe had been thinking for some time what an obstinate, disagreeable girl\nAlice was, and wishing he had her safe home to be rid of her, when,\nfeeling a hand, and looking round, he saw that it was the disagreeable\ngirl. She soon began to be companionable after a fashion, for she began\nto think, putting everything together, that Richard must have been\nseveral times in Fairyland before now. \"It is very strange,\" she said\nto herself; \"for he is quite a poor boy, I am sure of that. His arms\nstick out beyond his jacket like the ribs of his mother's umbrella. And\nto think of me wandering about Fairyland with _him_!\"\n\nThe moment she touched his arm, they saw an arch of blackness before\nthem. They had walked straight to a door--not a very inviting one, for\nit opened upon an utterly dark passage. Where there was only one door,\nhowever, there was no difficulty about choosing. Richard walked\nstraight through it; and from the greater fear of being left behind,\nAlice faced the lesser fear of going on. In a moment they were in total\ndarkness. Alice clung to Richard's arm, and murmured, almost against\nher will, \"Dear Richard!\" It was strange that fear should speak like\nlove; but it was in Fairyland. It was strange, too, that as soon as she\nspoke thus, Richard should fall in love with her all at once. But what\nwas more curious still was, that, at the same moment, Richard saw her\nface. In spite of her fear, which had made her pale, she looked very\nlovely.\n\n\"Dear Alice!\" said Richard, \"how pale you look!\"\n\n\"How can you tell that, Richard, when all is as black as pitch?\"\n\n\"I can see your face. It gives out light. Now I see your hands. Now I\ncan see your feet. Yes, I can see every spot where you are going\nto--No, don't put your foot there. There is an ugly toad just there.\"\n\nThe fact was, that the moment he began to love Alice, his eyes began to\nsend forth light. What he thought came from Alice's face, really came\nfrom his eyes. All about her and her path he could see, and every\nminute saw better; but to his own path he was blind. He could not see\nhis hand when he held it straight before his face, so dark was it. But\nhe could see Alice, and that was better than seeing the way--ever so\nmuch.\n\nAt length Alice too began to see a face dawning through the darkness.\nIt was Richard's face; but it was far handsomer than when she saw it\nlast. Her eyes had begun to give light too. And she said to\nherself--\"Can it be that I love the poor widow's son?--I suppose that\nmust be it,\" she answered herself, with a smile; for she was not\ndisgusted with herself at all. Richard saw the smile, and was glad. Her\npaleness had gone, and a sweet rosiness had taken its place. And now\nshe saw Richard's path as he saw hers, and between the two sights they\ngot on well.\n\nThey were now walking on a path betwixt two deep waters, which never\nmoved, shining as black as ebony where the eyelight fell. But they saw\nere long that this path kept growing narrower and narrower. At last, to\nAlice's dismay, the black waters met in front of them.\n\n\"What is to be done now, Richard?\" she said.\n\nWhen they fixed their eyes on the water before them, they saw that it\nwas swarming with lizards, and frogs, and black snakes, and all kinds\nof strange and ugly creatures, especially some that had neither heads,\nnor tails, nor legs, nor fins, nor feelers, being, in fact, only living\nlumps. These kept jumping out and in, and sprawling upon the path.\nRichard thought for a few moments before replying to Alice's question,\nas, indeed, well he might. But he came to the conclusion that the path\ncould not have gone on for the sake of stopping there; and that it must\nbe a kind of finger that pointed on where it was not allowed to go\nitself. So he caught up Alice in his strong arms, and jumped into the\nmiddle of the horrid swarm. And just as minnows vanish if you throw\nanything amongst them, just so these wretched creatures vanished, right\nand left and every way.\n\nHe found the water broader than he had expected; and before he got\nover, he found Alice heavier than he could have believed; but upon a\nfirm, rocky bottom, Richard waded through in safety. When he reached\nthe other side, he found that the bank was a lofty, smooth,\nperpendicular rock, with some rough steps cut in it. By and by the\nsteps led them right into the rock, and they were in a narrow passage\nonce more, but, this time, leading up. It wound round and round, like\nthe thread of a great screw. At last, Richard knocked his head against\nsomething, and could go no farther. The place was close and hot. He put\nup his hands, and pushed what felt like a warm stone: it moved a\nlittle.\n\n\"Go down, you brutes!\" growled a voice above, quivering with anger.\n\"You'll upset my pot and my cat, and my temper too, if you push that\nway. Go down!\"\n\nRichard knocked very gently, and said: \"Please let us out.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, I dare say! Very fine and soft-spoken! Go down, you goblin\nbrutes! I've had enough of you. I'll scald the hair off your ugly heads\nif you do that again. Go down, I say!\"\n\nSeeing fair speech was of no avail, Richard told Alice to go down a\nlittle, out of the way; and, setting his shoulders to one end of the\nstone, heaved it up; whereupon down came the other end, with a pot, and\na fire, and a cat which had been asleep beside it. She frightened Alice\ndreadfully as she rushed past her, showing nothing but her green\nlamping eyes.\n\nRichard, peeping up, found that he had turned a hearth-stone upside\ndown. On the edge of the hole stood a little crooked old man,\nbrandishing a mop-stick in a tremendous rage, and hesitating only where\nto strike him. But Richard put him out of his difficulty by springing\nup and taking the stick from him. Then, having lifted Alice out, he\nreturned it with a bow, and, heedless of the maledictions of the old\nman, proceeded to get the stone and the pot up again. For puss, she got\nout of herself.\n\nThen the old man became a little more friendly, and said: \"I beg your\npardon, I thought you were goblins. They never will let me alone. But\nyou must allow, it was rather an unusual way of paying a morning call.\"\nAnd the creature bowed conciliatingly.\n\n\"It was, indeed,\" answered Richard. \"I wish you had turned the door to\nus instead of the hearth-stone.\" For he did not trust the old man.\n\"But,\" he added, \"I hope you will forgive us.\"\n\n\"Oh, certainly, certainly, my dear young people! Use your freedom. But\nsuch young people have no business to be out alone. It is against the\nrules.\"\n\n\"But what is one to do--I mean two to do--when they can't help it?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, of course; but now, you know, I must take charge of you. So\nyou sit there, young gentleman; and you sit there, young lady.\"\n\nHe put a chair for one at one side of the hearth, and for the other at\nthe other side, and then drew his chair between them. The cat got upon\nhis hump, and then set up her own. So here was a wall that would let\nthrough no moonshine. But although both Richard and Alice were very\nmuch amused, they did not like to be parted in this peremptory manner.\nStill they thought it better not to anger the old man any more--in his\nown house, too.\n\nBut he had been once angered, and that was once too often, for he had\nmade it a rule never to forgive without taking it out in humiliation.\n\nIt was so disagreeable to have him sitting there between them, that\nthey felt as if they were far asunder. In order to get the better of\nthe fancy, they wanted to hold each other's hand behind the dwarf's\nback. But the moment their hands began to approach, the back of the cat\nbegan to grow long, and its hump to grow high; and, in a moment more,\nRichard found himself crawling wearily up a steep hill, whose ridge\nrose against the stars, while a cold wind blew drearily over it. Not a\nhabitation was in sight; and Alice had vanished from his eyes. He felt,\nhowever, that she must be somewhere on the other side, and so climbed\nand climbed to get over the brow of the hill, and down to where he\nthought she must be. But the longer he climbed, the farther off the top\nof the hill seemed; till at last he sank quite exhausted, and--must I\nconfess it?--very nearly began to cry. To think of being separated from\nAlice all at once, and in such a disagreeable way! But he fell\na-thinking instead, and soon said to himself: \"This must be some trick\nof that wretched old man. Either this mountain is a cat or it is not.\nIf it is a mountain, this won't hurt it; if it is a cat, I hope it\nwill.\" With that, he pulled out his pocket-knife, and feeling for a\nsoft place, drove it at one blow up to the handle in the side of the\nmountain.\n\nA terrific shriek was the first result; and the second, that Alice and\nhe sat looking at each other across the old man's hump, from which the\ncat-a-mountain had vanished. Their host sat staring at the blank\nfireplace, without ever turning round, pretending to know nothing of\nwhat had taken place.\n\n\"Come along, Alice,\" said Richard, rising. \"This won't do. We won't\nstop here.\"\n\nAlice rose at once, and put her hand in his. They walked towards the\ndoor. The old man took no notice of them. The moon was shining brightly\nthrough the window; but instead of stepping out into the moonlight when\nthey opened the door, they stepped into a great beautiful hall, through\nthe high gothic windows of which the same moon was shining. Out of this\nhall they could find no way, except by a staircase of stone which led\nupwards. They ascended it together. At the top Alice let go Richard's\nhand to peep into a little room, which looked all the colours of the\nrainbow, just like the inside of a diamond. Richard went a step or two\nalong a corridor, but finding she had left him, turned and looked into\nthe chamber. He could see her nowhere. The room was full of doors; and\nshe must have mistaken the door. He heard her voice calling him, and\nhurried in the direction of the sound. But he could see nothing of her.\n\"More tricks,\" he said to himself. \"It is of no use to stab this one. I\nmust wait till I see what can be done.\" Still he heard Alice calling\nhim, and still he followed, as well as he could. At length he came to a\ndoorway, open to the air, through which the moonlight fell. But when he\nreached it, he found that it was high up in the side of a tower, the\nwall of which went straight down from his feet, without stair or\ndescent of any kind. Again he heard Alice call him, and lifting his\neyes, saw her, across a wide castle-court, standing at another door\njust like the one he was at, with the moon shining full upon her.\n\n\"All right, Alice!\" he cried. \"Can you hear me?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered she.\n\n\"Then listen. This is all a trick. It is all a lie of that old wretch\nin the kitchen. Just reach out your hand, Alice dear.\"\n\nAlice did as Richard asked her; and, although they saw each other many\nyards off across the court, their hands met.\n\n\"There! I thought so!\" exclaimed Richard triumphantly. \"Now, Alice, I\ndon't believe it is more than a foot or two down to the court below,\nthough it looks like a hundred feet. Keep fast hold of my hand, and\njump when I count three.\" But Alice drew her hand from him in sudden\ndismay; whereupon Richard said, \"Well, I will try first,\" and jumped.\nThe same moment his cheery laugh came to Alice's ears, and she saw him\nstanding safe on the ground, far below.\n\n\"Jump, dear Alice, and I will catch you,\" said he.\n\n\"I can't; I am afraid,\" answered she.\n\n\"The old man is somewhere near you. You had better jump,\" said Richard.\n\nAlice sprang from the wall in terror, and only fell a foot or two into\nRichard's arms. The moment she touched the ground, they found\nthemselves outside the door of a little cottage which they knew very\nwell, for it was only just within the wood that bordered on their\nvillage. Hand in hand they ran home as fast as they could. When they\nreached a little gate that led into her father's grounds, Richard bade\nAlice good-bye. The tears came in her eyes. Richard and she seemed to\nhave grown quite man and woman in Fairyland, and they did not want to\npart now. But they felt that they must. So Alice ran in the back way,\nand reached her own room before anyone had missed her. Indeed, the last\nof the red had not quite faded from the west.\n\nAs Richard crossed the market-place on his way home, he saw an\numbrella-man just selling the last of his umbrellas. He thought the man\ngave him a queer look as he passed, and felt very much inclined to\npunch his head. But remembering how useless it had been to punch the\ngoblin's head, he thought it better not.\n\nIn reward of their courage, the Fairy Queen sent them permission to\nvisit Fairyland as often as they pleased; and no goblin or fairy was\nallowed to interfere with them.\n\nFor Peaseblossom and Toadstool, they were both banished from court, and\ncompelled to live together, for seven years, in an old tree that had\njust one green leaf upon it.\n\nToadstool did not mind it much, but Peaseblossom did.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE SHADOWS\n\n\n\n\n\n\nOld Ralph Rinkelmann made his living by comic sketches, and all but\nlost it again by tragic poems. So he was just the man to be chosen king\nof the fairies, for in Fairyland the sovereignty is elective.\n\nIt is no doubt very strange that fairies should desire to have a mortal\nking; but the fact is, that with all their knowledge and power, they\ncannot get rid of the feeling that some men are greater than they are,\nthough they can neither fly nor play tricks. So at such times as there\nhappens to be twice the usual number of sensible electors, such a man\nas Ralph Rinkelmann gets to be chosen.\n\nThey did not mean to insist on his residence; for they needed his\npresence only on special occasions. But they must get hold of him\nsomehow, first of all, in order to make him king. Once he was crowned,\nthey could get him as often as they pleased; but before this ceremony\nthere was a difficulty. For it is only between life and death that the\nfairies have power over grown-up mortals, and can carry them off to\ntheir country. So they had to watch for an opportunity.\n\nNor had they to wait long. For old Ralph was taken dreadfully ill; and\nwhile hovering between life and death, they carried him off, and\ncrowned him king of Fairyland. But after he was crowned, it was no\nwonder, considering the state of his health, that he should not be able\nto sit quite upright on the throne of Fairyland; or that, in\nconsequence, all the gnomes and goblins, and ugly, cruel things that\nlive in the holes and corners of the kingdom, should take advantage of\nhis condition, and run quite wild, playing him, king as he was, all\nsorts of tricks; crowding about his throne, climbing up the steps, and\nactually scrambling and quarrelling like mice about his ears and eyes,\nso that he could see and think of nothing else. But I am not going to\ntell anything more about this part of his adventures just at present.\nBy strong and sustained efforts, he succeeded, after much trouble and\nsuffering, in reducing his rebellious subjects to order. They all\nvanished to their respective holes and corners; and King Ralph, coming\nto himself, found himself in his bed, half propped up with pillows.\n\nBut the room was full of dark creatures, which gambolled about in the\nfirelight in such a strange, huge, though noiseless fashion, that he\nthought at first that some of his rebellious goblins had not been\nsubdued with the rest, but had followed him beyond the bounds of\nFairyland into his own private house in London. How else could these\nmad, grotesque hippopotamus-calves make their ugly appearance in Ralph\nRinkelmann's bed-room? But he soon found out that although they were\nlike the underground goblins, they were very different as well, and\nwould require quite different treatment. He felt convinced that they\nwere his subjects too, but that he must have overlooked them somehow at\nhis late coronation--if indeed they had been present; for he could not\nrecollect that he had seen anything just like them before. He resolved,\ntherefore, to pay particular attention to their habits, ways, and\ncharacters; else he saw plainly that they would soon be too much for\nhim; as indeed this intrusion into his chamber, where Mrs. Rinkelmann,\nwho must be queen if he was king, sat taking some tea by the fireside,\nevidently foreshadowed. But she, perceiving that he was looking about\nhim with a more composed expression than his face had worn for many\ndays, started up, and came quickly and quietly to his side, and her\nface was bright with gladness. Whereupon the fire burned up more\ncheerily; and the figures became more composed and respectful in their\nbehaviour, retreating towards the wall like well-trained attendants.\nThen the king of Fairyland had some tea and dry toast, and leaning back\non his pillows, nearly fell asleep; but not quite, for he still watched\nthe intruders.\n\nPresently the queen left the room to give some of the young princes and\nprincesses their tea; and the fire burned lower, and behold, the\nfigures grew as black and as mad in their gambols as ever! Their\nfavourite games seemed to be _Hide and Seek_; _Touch and Go_; _Grin and\nVanish_; and many other such; and all in the king's bed-chamber, too;\nso that it was quite alarming. It was almost as bad as if the house had\nbeen haunted by certain creatures which shall be nameless in a fairy\nstory, because with them Fairyland will not willingly have much to do.\n\n\"But it is a mercy that they have their slippers on!\" said the king to\nhimself; for his head ached.\n\nAs he lay back, with his eyes half shut and half open, too tired to pay\nlonger attention to their games, but, on the whole, considerably more\namused than offended with the liberties they took, for they seemed\ngood-natured creatures, and more frolicsome than positively\nill-mannered, he became suddenly aware that two of them had stepped\nforward from the walls, upon which, after the manner of great spiders,\nmost of them preferred sprawling, and now stood in the middle of the\nfloor at the foot of his majesty's bed, becking and bowing and ducking\nin the most grotesquely obsequious manner; while every now and then\nthey turned solemnly round upon one heel, evidently considering that\nmotion the highest token of homage they could show.\n\n\"What do you want?\" said the king.\n\n\"That it may please your majesty to be better acquainted with us,\"\nanswered they. \"We are your majesty's subjects.\"\n\n\"I know you are. I shall be most happy,\" answered the king.\n\n\"We are not what your majesty takes us for, though. We are not so\nfoolish as your majesty thinks us.\"\n\n\"It is impossible to take you for anything that I know of,\" rejoined\nthe king, who wished to make them talk, and said whatever came\nuppermost;--\"for soldiers, sailors, or anything: you will not stand\nstill long enough. I suppose you really belong to the fire brigade; at\nleast, you keep putting its light out.\"\n\n\"Don't jest, please your majesty.\" And as they said the words--for they\nboth spoke at once throughout the interview--they performed a grave\nsomerset towards the king.\n\n\"Not jest!\" retorted he; \"and with you? Why, you do nothing but jest.\nWhat are you?\"\n\n\"The Shadows, sire. And when we do jest, sire, we always jest in\nearnest. But perhaps your majesty does not see us distinctly.\"\n\n\"I see you perfectly well,\" returned the king.\n\n\"Permit me, however,\" rejoined one of the Shadows; and as he spoke he\napproached the king; and lifting a dark forefinger, he drew it lightly\nbut carefully across the ridge of his forehead, from temple to temple.\nThe king felt the soft gliding touch go, like water, into every hollow,\nand over the top of every height of that mountain-chain of thought. He\nhad involuntarily closed his eyes during the operation, and when he\nunclosed them again, as soon as the finger was withdrawn, he found that\nthey were opened in more senses than one. The room appeared to have\nextended itself on all sides, till he could not exactly see where the\nwalls were; and all about it stood the Shadows motionless. They were\ntall and solemn; rather awful, indeed, in their appearance,\nnotwithstanding many remarkable traits of grotesqueness, for they\nlooked just like the pictures of Puritans drawn by Cavaliers, with long\narms, and very long, thin legs, from which hung large loose feet, while\nin their countenances length of chin and nose predominated. The\nsolemnity of their mien, however, overcame all the oddity of their\nform, so that they were very _eerie_ indeed to look at, dressed as they\nall were in funereal black. But a single glance was all that the king\nwas allowed to have; for the former operator waved his dusky palm\nacross his vision, and once more the king saw only the fire-lighted\nwalls, and dark shapes flickering about upon them. The two who had\nspoken for the rest seemed likewise to have vanished. But at last the\nking discovered them, standing one on each side of the fireplace. They\nkept close to the chimney-wall, and talked to each other across the\nlength of the chimney-piece; thus avoiding the direct rays of the fire,\nwhich, though light is necessary to their appearing to human eyes, do\nnot agree with them at all--much less give birth to them, as the king\nwas soon to learn. After a few minutes they again approached the bed,\nand spoke thus:--\n\n\"It is now getting dark, please your majesty. We mean, out of doors in\nthe snow. Your majesty may see, from where he is lying, the cold light\nof its great winding-sheet--a famous carpet for the Shadows to dance\nupon, your majesty. All our brothers and sisters will be at church now,\nbefore going to their night's work.\"\n\n\"Do they always go to church before they go to work?\"\n\n\"They always go to church first.\"\n\n\"Where is the church?\"\n\n\"In Iceland. Would your majesty like to see it?\"\n\n\"How can I go and see it, when, as you know very well, I am ill in bed?\nBesides, I should be sure to take cold in a frosty night like this,\neven if I put on the blankets, and took the feather-bed for a muff.\"\n\nA sort of quivering passed over their faces, which seemed to be their\nmode of laughing. The whole shape of the face shook and fluctuated as\nif it had been some dark fluid; till by slow degrees of gathering calm,\nit settled into its former rest. Then one of them drew aside the\ncurtains of the bed, and the window-curtains not having been yet drawn,\nthe king beheld the white glimmering night outside, struggling with the\nheaps of darkness that tried to quench it; and the heavens full of\nstars, flashing and sparkling like live jewels. The other Shadow went\ntowards the fire and vanished in it.\n\nScores of Shadows immediately began an insane dance all about the room;\ndisappearing, one after the other, through the uncovered window, and\ngliding darkly away over the face of the white snow; for the window\nlooked at once on a field of snow. In a few moments, the room was quite\ncleared of them; but instead of being relieved by their absence, the\nking felt immediately as if he were in a dead-house, and could hardly\nbreathe for the sense of emptiness and desolation that fell upon him.\nBut as he lay looking out on the snow, which stretched blank and wide\nbefore him, he spied in the distance a long dark line which drew nearer\nand nearer, and showed itself at last to be all the Shadows, walking in\na double row, and carrying in the midst of them something like a bier.\nThey vanished under the window, but soon reappeared, having somehow\nclimbed up the wall of the house; for they entered in perfect order by\nthe window, as if melting through the transparency of the glass.\n\nThey still carried the bier or litter. It was covered with richest\nfurs, and skins of gorgeous wild beasts, whose eyes were replaced by\nsapphires and emeralds, that glittered and gleamed in the fire and snow\nlight. The outermost skin sparkled with frost, but the inside ones were\nsoft and warm and dry as the down under a swan's wing. The Shadows\napproached the bed, and set the litter upon it. Then a number of them\nbrought a huge fur robe, and wrapping it round the king, laid him on\nthe litter in the midst of the furs. Nothing could be more gentle and\nrespectful than the way in which they moved him; and he never thought\nof refusing to go. Then they put something on his head, and, lifting\nthe litter, carried him once round the room, to fall into order. As he\npassed the mirror he saw that he was covered with royal ermine, and\nthat his head wore a wonderful crown of gold, set with none but red\nstones: rubies and carbuncles and garnets, and others whose names he\ncould not tell, glowed gloriously around his head, like the\nsalamandrine essence of all the Christmas fires over the world. A\nsceptre lay beside him--a rod of ebony, surmounted by a cone-shaped\ndiamond, which, cut in a hundred facets, flashed all the hues of the\nrainbow, and threw coloured gleams on every side, that looked like\nShadows too, but more ethereal than those that bore him. Then the\nShadows rose gently to the window, passed through it, and sinking\nslowing upon the field of outstretched snow, commenced an orderly\ngliding rather than march along the frozen surface. They took it by\nturns to bear the king, as they sped with the swiftness of thought, in\na straight line towards the north. The pole-star rose above their heads\nwith visible rapidity; for indeed they moved quite as fast as sad\nthoughts, though not with all the speed of happy desires. England and\nScotland slid past the litter of the king of the Shadows. Over rivers\nand lakes they skimmed and glided. They climbed the high mountains, and\ncrossed the valleys with a fearless bound; till they came to\nJohn-o'-Groat's house and the Northern Sea. The sea was not frozen; for\nall the stars shone as clear out of the deeps below as they shone out\nof the deeps above; and as the bearers slid along the blue-gray\nsurface, with never a furrow in their track, so pure was the water\nbeneath that the king saw neither surface, bottom, nor substance to it,\nand seemed to be gliding only through the blue sphere of heaven, with\nthe stars above him, and the stars below him, and between the stars and\nhim nothing but an emptiness, where, for the first time in his life,\nhis soul felt that it had room enough.\n\nAt length they reached the rocky shores of Iceland. There they landed,\nstill pursuing their journey. All this time the king felt no cold; for\nthe red stones in his crown kept him warm, and the emerald and sapphire\neyes of the wild beasts kept the frosts from settling upon his litter.\n\nOftentimes upon their way they had to pass through forests, caverns,\nand rock-shadowed paths, where it was so dark that at first the king\nfeared he should lose his Shadows altogether. But as soon as they\nentered such places, the diamond in his sceptre began to shine and\nglow, and flash, sending out streams of light of all the colours that\npainter's soul could dream of; in which light the Shadows grew livelier\nand stronger than ever, speeding through the dark ways with an all but\nblinding swiftness. In the light of the diamond, too, some of their\nforms became more simple and human, while others seemed only to break\nout into a yet more untamable absurdity. Once, as they passed through a\ncave, the king actually saw some of their eyes--strange shadow-eyes; he\nhad never seen any of their eyes before. But at the same moment when he\nsaw their eyes, he knew their faces too, for they turned them full upon\nhim for an instant; and the other Shadows, catching sight of these,\nshrank and shivered, and nearly vanished. Lovely faces they were; but\nthe king was very thoughtful after he saw them, and continued rather\ntroubled all the rest of the journey. He could not account for those\nfaces being there, and the faces of Shadows, too, with living eyes.\n\nBut he soon found that amongst the Shgadows a man must learn never to\nbe surprised at anything; for if he does not, he will soon grow quite\nstupid, in consequence of the endless recurrence of surprises.\n\nAt last they climbed up the bed of a little stream, and then, passing\nthrough a narrow rocky defile, came out suddenly upon the side of a\nmountain, overlooking a blue frozen lake in the very heart of mighty\nhills. Overhead, the _aurora borealis_ was shivering and flashing like\na battle of ten thousand spears. Underneath, its beams passed faintly\nover the blue ice and the sides of the snow-clad mountains, whose tops\nshot up like huge icicles all about, with here and there a star\nsparkling on the very tip of one. But as the northern lights in the sky\nabove, so wavered and quivered, and shot hither and thither, the\nShadows on the surface of the lake below; now gathering in groups, and\nnow shivering asunder; now covering the whole surface of the lake, and\nanon condensed into one dark knot in the centre. Every here and there\non the white mountains might be seen two or three shooting away towards\nthe tops, to vanish beyond them, so that their number was gradually,\nthough not visibly, diminishing.\n\n\"Please your majesty,\" said the Shadows, \"this is our church--the\nChurch of the Shadows.\"\n\nAnd so saying, the king's body-guard set down the litter upon a rock,\nand plunged into the multitudes below. They soon returned, however, and\nbore the king down into the middle of the lake. All the Shadows came\ncrowding round him, respectfully but fearlessly; and sure never such a\ngrotesque assembly revealed itself before to mortal eyes. The king had\nseen all kind of gnomes, goblins, and kobolds at his coronation; but\nthey were quite rectilinear figures compared with the insane\nlawlessness of form in which the Shadows rejoiced; and the wildest\ngambols of the former were orderly dances of ceremony beside the\napparently aimless and wilful contortions of figure, and metamorphoses\nof shape, in which the latter indulged. They retained, however, all the\ntime, to the surprise of the king, an identity, each of his own type,\ninexplicably perceptible through every change. Indeed this preservation\nof the primary idea of each form was more wonderful than the\nbewildering and ridiculous alterations to which the form itself was\nevery moment subjected.\n\n\"What are you?\" said the king, leaning on his elbow, and looking around\nhim.\n\n\"The Shadows, your majesty,\" answered several voices at once.\n\n\"What Shadows?\"\n\n\"The human Shadows. The Shadows of men, and women, and their children.\"\n\n\"Are you not the shadows of chairs and tables, and pokers and tongs,\njust as well?\"\n\nAt this question a strange jarring commotion went through the assembly\nwith a shock. Several of the figures shot up as high as the aurora, but\ninstantly settled down again to human size, as if overmastering their\nfeelings, out of respect to him who had roused them. One who had\nbounded to the highest visible icy peak, and as suddenly returned, now\nelbowed his way through the rest, and made himself spokesman for them\nduring the remaining part of the dialogue.\n\n\"Excuse our agitation, your majesty,\" said he. \"I see your majesty has\nnot yet thought proper to make himself acquainted with our nature and\nhabits.\"\n\n\"I wish to do so now,\" replied the king.\n\n\"We are the Shadows,\" repeated the Shadow solemnly.\n\n\"Well?\" said the king.\n\n\"We do not often appear to men.\"\n\n\"Ha!\" said the king.\n\n\"We do not belong to the sunshine at all. We go through it unseen, and\nonly by a passing chill do men recognize an unknown presence.\"\n\n\"Ha!\" said the king again.\n\n\"It is only in the twilight of the fire, or when one man or woman is\nalone with a single candle, or when any number of people are all\nfeeling the same thing at once, making them one, that we show\nourselves, and the truth of things.\"\n\n\"Can that be true that loves the night?\" said the king.\n\n\"The darkness is the nurse of light,\" answered the Shadow.\n\n\"Can that be true which mocks at forms?\" said the king.\n\n\"Truth rides abroad in shapeless storms,\" answered the Shadow.\n\n\"Ha! ha!\" thought Ralph Rinkelmann, \"it rhymes. The Shadow caps my\nquestions with his answers. Very strange!\" And he grew thoughtful\nagain.\n\nThe Shadow was the first to resume.\n\n\"Please your majesty, may we present our petition?\"\n\n\"By all means,\" replied the king. \"I am not well enough to receive it\nin proper state.\"\n\n\"Never mind, your majesty. We do not care for much ceremony; and indeed\nnone of us are quite well at present. The subject of our petition\nweighs upon us.\"\n\n\"Go on,\" said the king.\n\n\"Sire,\" began the Shadow, \"our very existence is in danger. The various\nsorts of artificial light, both in houses and in men, women, and\nchildren, threaten to end our being. The use and the disposition of\ngaslights, especially high in the centres, blind the eyes by which\nalone we can be perceived. We are all but banished from towns. We are\ndriven into villages and lonely houses, chiefly old farm-houses, out of\nwhich, even, our friends the fairies are fast disappearing. We\ntherefore petition our king, by the power of his art, to restore us to\nour rights in the house itself, and in the hearts of its inhabitants.\"\n\n\"But,\" said the king, \"you frighten the children.\"\n\n\"Very seldom, your majesty; and then only for their good. We seldom\nseek to frighten anybody. We mostly want to make people silent and\nthoughtful; to awe them a little, your majesty.\"\n\n\"You are much more likely to make them laugh,\" said the king.\n\n\"Are we?\" said the Shadow.\n\nAnd approaching the king one step, he stood quite still for a moment.\nThe diamond of the king's sceptre shot out a vivid flame of violet\nlight, and the king stared at the Shadow in silence, and his lip\nquivered. He never told what he saw then; but he would say:\n\n\"Just fancy what it might be if _some_ flitting thoughts were to\npersist in staying to be looked at.\"\n\n\"It is only,\" resumed the Shadow, \"when our thoughts are not fixed upon\nany particular object, that our bodies are subject to all the vagaries\nof elemental influences. Generally, amongst worldly men and frivolous\nwomen, we only attach ourselves to some article of furniture or of\ndress; and they never doubt that we are mere foolish and vague results\nof the dashing of the waves of the light against the solid forms of\nwhich their houses are full. We do not care to tell them the truth, for\nthey would never see it. But let the worldly man--or the frivolous\nwoman--and then--\"\n\nAt each of the pauses indicated, the mass of Shadows throbbed and\nheaved with emotion; but they soon settled again into comparative\nstillness. Once more the Shadow addressed himself to speak. But\nsuddenly they all looked up, and the king, following their gaze, saw\nthat the aurora had begun to pale.\n\n\"The moon is rising,\" said the Shadow. \"As soon as she looks over the\nmountains into the valley, we must be gone, for we have plenty to do by\nthe moon; we are powerful in her light. But if your majesty will come\nhere to-morrow night, your majesty may learn a great deal more about\nus, and judge for himself whether it be fit to accord our petition; for\nthen will be our grand annual assembly, in which we report to our\nchiefs the things we have attempted, and the good or bad success we\nhave had.\"\n\n\"If you send for me,\" returned the king, \"I will come.\"\n\nEre the Shadow could reply, the tip of the moon's crescent horn peeped\nup from behind an icy pinnacle, and one slender ray fell on the lake.\nIt shone upon no Shadows. Ere the eye of the king could again seek the\nearth after beholding the first brightness of the moon's resurrection,\nthey had vanished; and the surface of the lake glittered gold and blue\nin the pale moonlight.\n\nThere the king lay, alone in the midst of the frozen lake, with the\nmoon staring at him. But at length he heard from somewhere a voice that\nhe knew.\n\n\"Will you take another cup of tea, dear?\" said Mrs. Rinkelmann.\n\nAnd Ralph, coming slowly to himself, found that he was lying in his own\nbed.\n\n\"Yes, I will,\" he answered; \"and rather a large piece of toast, if you\nplease; for I have been a long journey since I saw you last.\"\n\n\"He has not come to himself quite,\" said Mrs. Rinkelmann, between her\nand herself.\n\n\"You would be rather surprised,\" continued Ralph, \"if I told you where\nI had been.\"\n\n\"I dare say I should,\" responded his wife.\n\n\"Then I will tell you,\" rejoined Ralph.\n\nBut at that moment, a great Shadow bounced out of the fire with a\nsingle huge leap, and covered the whole room. Then it settled in one\ncorner, and Ralph saw it shaking its fist at him from the end of a\npreposterous arm. So he took the hint, and held his peace. And it was\nas well for him. For I happen to know something about the Shadows too;\nand I know that if he had told his wife all about it just then, they\nwould not have sent for him the following evening.\n\nBut as the king, after finishing his tea and toast, lay and looked\nabout him, the Shadows dancing in his room seemed to him odder and more\ninexplicable than ever. The whole chamber was full of mystery. So it\ngenerally was, but now it was more mysterious than ever. After all that\nhe had seen in the Shadow-church, his own room and its Shadows were yet\nmore wonderful and unintelligible than those.\n\nThis made it the more likely that he had seen a true vision; for\ninstead of making common things look commonplace, as a false vision\nwould have done, it had made common things disclose the wonderful that\nwas in them.\n\n\"The same applies to all arts as well,\" thought Ralph Rinkelmann.\n\nThe next afternoon, as the twilight was growing dusky, the king lay\nwondering whether or not the Shadows would fetch him again. He wanted\nvery much to go, for he had enjoyed the journey exceedingly, and he\nlonged, besides, to hear some of the Shadows tell their stories. But\nthe darkness grew deeper and deeper, and the shadows did not come. The\ncause was, that Mrs. Rinkelmann sat by the fire in the gloaming; and\nthey could not carry off the king while she was there. Some of them\ntried to frighten her away by playing the oddest pranks on the walls,\nand floor, and ceiling; but altogether without effect; the queen only\nsmiled, for she had a good conscience. Suddenly, however, a dreadful\nscream was heard from the nursery, and Mrs. Rinkelmann rushed upstairs\nto see what was the matter. No sooner had she gone than the two warders\nof the chimney-corners stepped out into the middle of the room, and\nsaid, in a low voice,--\n\n\"Is your majesty ready?\"\n\n\"Have you no hearts?\" said the king; \"or are they as black as your\nfaces? Did you not hear the child scream? I must know what is the\nmatter with her before I go.\"\n\n\"Your majesty may keep his mind easy on that point,\" replied the\nwarders. \"We had tried everything we could think of to get rid of her\nmajesty the queen, but without effect. So a young madcap Shadow, half\nagainst the will of the older ones of us, slipped upstairs into the\nnursery; and has, no doubt, succeeded in appalling the baby, for he is\nvery lithe and long-legged.--Now, your majesty.\"\n\n\"I will have no such tricks played in my nursery,\" said the king,\nrather angrily. \"You might put the child beside itself.\"\n\n\"Then there would be twins, your majesty. And we rather like twins.\"\n\n\"None of your miserable jesting! You might put the child out of her\nwits.\"\n\n\"Impossible, sire; for she has not got into them yet.\"\n\n\"Go away,\" said the king.\n\n\"Forgive us, your majesty. Really, it will do the child good; for that\nShadow will, all her life, be to her a symbol of what is ugly and bad.\nWhen she feels in danger of hating or envying anyone, that Shadow will\ncome back to her mind and make her shudder.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said the king. \"I like that. Let us go.\"\n\nThe Shadows went through the same ceremonies and preparations as\nbefore; during which, the young Shadow before-mentioned contrived to\nmake such grimaces as kept the baby in terror, and the queen in the\nnursery, till all was ready. Then with a bound that doubled him up\nagainst the ceiling, and a kick of his legs six feet out behind him, he\nvanished through the nursery door, and reached the king's bed-chamber\njust in time to take his place with the last who were melting through\nthe window in the rear of the litter, and settling down upon the snow\nbeneath. Away they went as before, a gliding blackness over the white\ncarpet. And it was Christmas-eve.\n\nWhen they came in sight of the mountain-lake, the king saw that it was\ncrowded over its whole surface with a changeful intermingling of\nShadows. They were all talking and listening alternately, in pairs,\ntrios, and groups of every size. Here and there large companies were\nabsorbed in attention to one elevated above the rest, not in a pulpit,\nor on a platform, but on the stilts of his own legs, elongated for the\nnonce. The aurora, right overhead, lighted up the lake and the sides of\nthe mountains, by sending down from the zenith, nearly to the surface\nof the lake, great folded vapours, luminous with all the colours of a\nfaint rainbow.\n\nMany, however, as the words were that passed on all sides, not a shadow\nof a sound reached the ears of the king: the shadow-speech could not\nenter his corporeal organs. One of his guides, however, seeing that the\nking wanted to hear and could not, went through a strange manipulation\nof his head and ears; after which he could hear perfectly, though still\nonly the voice to which, for the time, he directed his attention. This,\nhowever, was a great advantage, and one which the king longed to carry\nback with him to the world of men.\n\nThe king now discovered that this was not merely the church of the\nShadows, but their news exchange at the same time. For, as the shadows\nhave no writing or printing, the only way in which they can make each\nother acquainted with their doings and thinkings, is to meet and talk\nat this word-mart and parliament of shades. And as, in the world,\npeople read their favourite authors, and listen to their favourite\nspeakers, so here the Shadows seek their favourite Shadows, listen to\ntheir adventures, and hear generally what they have to say.\n\nFeeling quite strong, the king rose and walked about amongst them,\nwrapped in his ermine robe, with his red crown on his head, and his\ndiamond sceptre in his hand. Every group of Shadows to which he drew\nnear, ceased talking as soon as they saw him approach; but at a nod\nthey went on again directly, conversing and relating and commenting, as\nif no one was there of other kind or of higher rank than themselves. So\nthe king heard a good many stories. At some of them he laughed, and at\nsome of them he cried. But if the stories that the Shadows told were\nprinted, they would make a book that no publisher could produce fast\nenough to satisfy the buyers. I will record some of the things that the\nking heard, for he told them to me soon after. In fact, I was for some\ntime his private secretary.\n\n\"I made him confess before a week was over,\" said a gloomy old Shadow.\n\n\"But what was the good of that?\" rejoined a pert young one. \"That could\nnot undo what was done.\"\n\n\"Yes, it could.\"\n\n\"What! bring the dead to life?\"\n\n\"No; but comfort the murderer. I could not bear to see the pitiable\nmisery he was in. He was far happier with the rope round his neck, than\nhe was with the purse in his pocket. I saved him from killing himself\ntoo.\"\n\n\"How did you make him confess?\"\n\n\"Only by wallowing on the wall a little.\"\n\n\"How could that make him tell?\"\n\n\"_He_ knows.\"\n\nThe Shadow was silent; and the king turned to another, who was\npreparing to speak.\n\n\"I made a fashionable mother repent.\"\n\n\"How?\" broke from several voices, in whose sound was mingled a touch of\nincredulity.\n\n\"Only by making a little coffin on the wall,\" was the reply.\n\n\"Did the fashionable mother confess too?\"\n\n\"She had nothing more to confess than everybody knew.\"\n\n\"What did everybody know then?\"\n\n\"That she might have been kissing a living child, when she followed a\ndead one to the grave.--The next will fare better.\"\n\n\"I put a stop to a wedding,\" said another.\n\n\"Horrid shade!\" remarked a poetic imp.\n\n\"How?\" said others. \"Tell us how.\"\n\n\"Only by throwing a darkness, as if from the branch of a sconce, over\nthe forehead of a fair girl.--They are not married yet, and I do not\nthink they will be. But I loved the youth who loved her. How he\nstarted! It was a revelation to him.\"\n\n\"But did it not deceive him?\"\n\n\"Quite the contrary.\"\n\n\"But it was only a shadow from the outside, not a shadow coming through\nfrom the soul of the girl.\"\n\n\"Yes. You may say so. But it was all that was wanted to make the\nmeaning of her forehead manifest--yes, of her whole face, which had now\nand then, in the pauses of his passion, perplexed the youth. All of it,\ncurled nostrils, pouting lips, projecting chin, instantly fell into\nharmony with that darkness between her eyebrows. The youth understood\nit in a moment, and went home miserable. And they're not married\n_yet_.\"\n\n\"I caught a toper alone, over his magnum of port,\" said a very dark\nShadow; \"and didn't I give it him! I made _delirium tremens_ first; and\nthen I settled into a funeral, passing slowly along the length of the\nopposite wall. I gave him plenty of plumes and mourning coaches. And\nthen I gave him a funeral service, but I could not manage to make the\nsurplice white, which was all the better for such a sinner. The wretch\nstared till his face passed from purple to grey, and actually left his\nfifth glass only, unfinished, and took refuge with his wife and\nchildren in the drawing-room, much to their surprise. I believe he\nactually drank a cup of tea; and although I have often looked in since,\nI have never caught him again, drinking alone at least.\"\n\n\"But does he drink less? Have you done him any good?\"\n\n\"I hope so; but I am sorry to say I can't feel sure about it.\"\n\n\"Humph! Humph! Humph!\" grunted various shadow throats.\n\n\"I had such fun once!\" cried another. \"I made such game of a young\nclergyman!\"\n\n\"You have no right to make game of anyone.\"\n\n\"Oh yes, I have--when it is for his good. He used to study his\nsermons--where do you think?\"\n\n\"In his study, of course. Where else should it be?\"\n\n\"Yes and no. Guess again.\"\n\n\"Out amongst the faces in the streets.\"\n\n\"Guess again.\"\n\n\"In still green places in the country?\"\n\n\"Guess again.\"\n\n\"In old books?\"\n\n\"Guess again.\"\n\n\"No, no. Tell us.\"\n\n\"In the looking glass. Ha! ha! ha!\"\n\n\"He was fair game; fair shadow game.\"\n\n\"I thought so. And I made such fun of him one night on the wall! He had\nsense enough to see that it was himself, and very like an ape. So he\ngot ashamed, turned the mirror with its face to the wall, and thought a\nlittle more about his people, and a little less about himself. I was\nvery glad; for, please your majesty,\"--and here the speaker turned\ntowards the king--\"we don't like the creatures that live in the\nmirrors. You call them ghosts, don't you?\"\n\nBefore the king could reply, another had commenced. But the story about\nthe clergyman had made the king wish to hear one of the shadow-sermons.\nSo he turned him towards a long Shadow, who was preaching to a very\nquiet and listening crowd. He was just concluding his sermon.\n\n\"Therefore, dear Shadows, it is the more needful that we love one\nanother as much as we can, because that is not much. We have no such\nexcuse for not loving as mortals have, for we do not die like them. I\nsuppose it is the thought of that death that makes them hate so much.\nThen again, we go to sleep all day, most of us, and not in the night,\nas men do. And you know that we forget everything that happened the\nnight before; therefore, we ought to love well, for the love is short.\nAh! dear Shadow, whom I love now with all my shadowy soul, I shall not\nlove thee to-morrow eve, I shall not know thee; I shall pass thee in\nthe crowd and never dream that the Shadow whom I now love is near me\nthen. Happy Shades! for we only remember our tales until we have told\nthem here, and then they vanish in the shadow-churchyard, where we bury\nonly our dead selves. Ah! brethren, who would be a man and remember?\nWho would be a man and weep? We ought indeed to love one another, for\nwe alone inherit oblivion; we alone are renewed with eternal birth; we\nalone have no gathered weight of years. I will tell you the awful fate\nof one Shadow who rebelled against his nature, and sought to remember\nthe past. He said, 'I _will_ remember this eve.' He fought with the\ngenial influences of kindly sleep when the sun rose on the awful dead\nday of light; and although he could not keep quite awake, he dreamed of\nthe foregone eve, and he never forgot his dream. Then he tried again\nthe next night, and the next, and the next; and he tempted another\nShadow to try it with him. But at last their awful fate overtook them;\nfor, instead of continuing to be Shadows, they began to cast shadows,\nas foolish men say; and so they thickened and thickened till they\nvanished out of our world. They are now condemned to walk the earth, a\nman and a woman, with death behind them, and memories within them. Ah,\nbrother Shades! let us love one another, for we shall soon forget. We\nare not men, but Shadows.\"\n\nThe king turned away, and pitied the poor Shadows far more than they\npitied men.\n\n\"Oh! how we played with a musician one night!\" exclaimed a Shadow in\nanother group, to which the king had first directed a passing thought,\nand then had stopped to listen.--\"Up and down we went, like the hammers\nand dampers on his piano. But he took his revenge on us. For after he\nhad watched us for half an hour in the twilight, he rose and went to\nhis instrument, and played a shadow-dance that fixed us all in sound\nfor ever. Each could tell the very notes meant for him; and as long as\nhe played, we could not stop, but went on dancing and dancing after the\nmusic, just as the magician--I mean the musician--pleased. And he\npunished us well; for he nearly danced us all off our legs and out of\nshape into tired heaps of collapsed and palpitating darkness. We won't\ngo near him for some time again, if we can only remember it. He had\nbeen very miserable all day, he was so poor; and we could not think of\nany way of comforting him except making him laugh. We did not succeed,\nwith our wildest efforts; but it turned out better than we had\nexpected, after all; for his shadow-dance got him into notice, and he\nis quite popular now, and making money fast.--If he does not take care,\nwe shall have other work to do with him by and by, poor fellow!\"\n\n\"I and some others did the same for a poor play-writer once. He had a\nChristmas piece to write, and [not] being an original genius, it was\nnot so easy for him to find a subject as it is for most of his class. I\nsaw the trouble he was in, and collecting a few stray Shadows, we\nacted, in dumb-show of course, the funniest bit of nonsense we could\nthink of; and it was quite successful. The poor fellow watched every\nmotion, roaring with laughter at us, and delight at the ideas we put\ninto his head. He turned it all into words, and scenes, and actions;\nand the piece came off with a splendid success.\"\n\n\"But how long we have to look for a chance of doing anything worth\ndoing,\" said a long, thin, especially lugubrious Shadow. \"I have only\ndone one thing worth telling ever since we met last. But I am proud of\nthat.\"\n\n\"What was it? What was it?\" rose from twenty voices.\n\n\"I crept into a dining-room, one twilight, soon after Christmas-day. I\nhad been drawn thither by the glow of a bright fire shining through red\nwindow-curtains. At first I thought there was no one there, and was on\nthe point of leaving the room, and going out again into the snowy\nstreet, when I suddenly caught the sparkle of eyes. I found that they\nbelonged to a little boy who lay very still on a sofa. I crept into a\ndark corner by the sideboard, and watched him. He seemed very sad, and\ndid nothing but stare into the fire. At last he sighed out,--'I wish\nmamma would come home.' 'Poor boy!' thought I, 'there is no help for\nthat but mamma.' Yet I would try to while away the time for him. So out\nof my corner I stretched a long shadow arm, reaching all across the\nceiling, and pretended to make a grab at him. He was rather frightened\nat first; but he was a brave boy, and soon saw that it was all a joke.\nSo when I did it again, he made a clutch at me; and then we had such\nfun! For though he often sighed and wished mamma would come home, he\nalways began again with me; and on we went with the wildest games. At\nlast his mother's knock came to the door, and starting up in delight,\nhe rushed into the hall to meet her, and forgot all about poor black\nme. But I did not mind that in the least; for when I glided out after\nhim into the hall, I was well repaid for my trouble by hearing his\nmother say to him,--'Why, Charlie, my dear, you look ever so much\nbetter since I left you!' At that moment I slipped through the closing\ndoor, and as I ran across the snow, I heard the mother say,--'What\nshadow can that be, passing so quickly?' And Charlie answered with a\nmerry laugh,--'Oh! mamma, I suppose it must be the funny shadow that\nhas been playing such games with me all the time you were out.' As soon\nas the door was shut, I crept along the wall and looked in at the\ndining-room window. And I heard his mamma say, as she led him into the\nroom, 'What an imagination the boy has!' Ha! ha! ha! Then she looked at\nhim, and the tears came in her eyes; and she stooped down over him, and\nI heard the sounds of a mingling kiss and sob.\"\n\n\"I always look for nurseries full of children,\" said another; \"and this\nwinter I have been very fortunate. I am sure children belong especially\nto us. One evening, looking about in a great city, I saw through the\nwindow into a large nursery, where the odious gas had not yet been\nlighted. Round the fire sat a company of the most delightful children I\nhad ever seen. They were waiting patiently for their tea. It was too\ngood an opportunity to be lost. I hurried away, and gathering together\ntwenty of the best Shadows I could find, returned in a few moments; and\nentering the nursery, we danced on the walls one of our best dances. To\nbe sure it was mostly extemporized; but I managed to keep it in harmony\nby singing this song, which I made as we went on. Of course the\nchildren could not hear it; they only saw the motions that answered to\nit; but with them they seemed to be very much delighted indeed, as I\nshall presently prove to you. This was the song:--\n\n 'Swing, swang, swingle, swuff,\n  Flicker, flacker, fling, fluff!\n   Thus we go,\n   To and fro;\n   Here and there,\n   Everywhere,\n   Born and bred;\n   Never dead,\n    Only gone.\n\n   'On! Come on.\n   Looming, glooming,\n   Spreading, fuming,\n   Shattering, scattering,\n   Parting, darting,\n   Settling, starting,\n   All our life\n   Is a strife,\n  And a wearying for rest\n  On the darkness' friendly breast.\n\n  'Joining, splitting,\n   Rising, sitting,\n   Laughing, shaking,\n   Sides all aching,\n  Grumbling, grim, and gruff.\n  Swingle, swangle, swuff!\n\n  'Now a knot of darkness;\n    Now dissolved gloom;\n   Now a pall of blackness\n    Hiding all the room.\n  Flicker, flacker, fluff!\n  Black, and black enough!\n\n  'Dancing now like demons;\n    Lying like the dead;\n   Gladly would we stop it,\n    And go down to bed!\n  But our work we still must do,\n  Shadow men, as well as you.\n\n  'Rooting, rising, shooting,\n    Heaving, sinking, creeping;\n   Hid in corners crooning;\n    Splitting, poking, leaping,\n   Gathering, towering, swooning.\n    When we're lurking,\n    Yet we're working,\n  For our labour we must do,\n  Shadow men, as well as you.\n   Flicker, flacker, fling, fluff!\n   Swing, swang, swingle, swuff!'\n\n\"'How thick the Shadows are!' said one of the children--a thoughtful\nlittle girl.\n\n\"'I wonder where they come from,' said a dreamy little boy.\n\n\"'I think they grow out of the wall,' answered the little girl; 'for I\nhave been watching them come; first one and then another, and then a\nwhole lot of them. I am sure they grow out of the walls.'\n\n\"'Perhaps they have papas and mammas,' said an older boy, with a smile.\n\n\"'Yes, yes; and the doctor brings them in his pocket,' said another, a\nconsequential little maiden.\n\n\"'No; I'll tell you,' said the older boy: 'they're ghosts.'\n\n\"'But ghosts are white.'\n\n\"'Oh! but these have got black coming down the chimney.'\n\n\"'No,' said a curious-looking, white-faced boy of fourteen, who had\nbeen reading by the firelight, and had stopped to hear the little ones\ntalk; 'they're body ghosts; they're not soul ghosts.'\n\n\"'A silence followed, broken by the first, the dreamy-eyed boy, who\nsaid,--\n\n\"'I hope they didn't make me;' at which they all burst out laughing.\nJust then the nurse brought in their tea, and when she proceeded to\nlight the gas, we vanished.\"\n\n\"I stopped a murder,\" cried another.\n\n\"How? How? How?\"\n\n\"I will tell you. I had been lurking about a sick-room for some time,\nwhere a miser lay, apparently dying. I did not like the place at all,\nbut I felt as if I should be wanted there. There were plenty of\nlurking-places about, for the room was full of all sorts of old\nfurniture, especially cabinets, chests, and presses. I believe he had\nin that room every bit of the property he had spent a long life in\ngathering. I found that he had gold and gold in those places; for one\nnight, when his nurse was away, he crept out of bed, mumbling and\nshaking, and managed to open one of his chests, though he nearly fell\ndown with the effort. I was peeping over his shoulder, and such a gleam\nof gold fell upon me, that it nearly killed me. But hearing his nurse\ncoming, he slammed the lid down, and I recovered.\n\n\"I tried very hard, but I could not do him any good. For although I\nmade all sorts of shapes on the walls and ceiling, representing evil\ndeeds that he had done, of which there were plenty to choose from, I\ncould make no shapes on his brain or conscience. He had no eyes for\nanything but gold. And it so happened that his nurse had neither eyes\nnor heart for anything else either.\n\n\"'One day, as she was seated beside his bed, but where he could not see\nher, stirring some gruel in a basin, to cool it from him, I saw her\ntake a little phial from her bosom, and I knew by the expression of her\nface both what it was and what she was going to do with it. Fortunately\nthe cork was a little hard to get out, and this gave me one moment to\nthink.\n\n\"The room was so crowded with all sorts of things, that although there\nwere no curtains on the four-post bed to hide from the miser the sight\nof his precious treasures, there was yet but one small part of the\nceiling suitable for casting myself upon in the shape I wished to\nassume. And this spot was hard to reach. But having discovered that\nupon this very place lay a dull gleam of firelight thrown from a\nstrange old dusty mirror that stood away in some corner, I got in front\nof the fire, spied where the mirror was, threw myself upon it, and\nbounded from its face upon the oval pool of dim light on the ceiling,\nassuming, as I passed, the shape of an old stooping hag, who poured\nsomething from a phial into a basin. I made the handle of the spoon\nwith my own nose, ha! ha!\" And the shadow-hand caressed the shadow-tip\nof the shadow-nose, before the shadow-tongue resumed.\n\n\"The old miser saw me: he would not taste the gruel that night,\nalthough his nurse coaxed and scolded till they were both weary. She\npretended to taste it herself, and to think it very good; but at last\nretired into a corner, and after making as if she were eating it, took\ngood care to pour it all out into the ashes.\"\n\n\"But she must either succeed, or starve him, at last,\" interposed a\nShadow.\n\n\"I will tell you.\"\n\n\"And,\" interposed a third, \"he was not worth saving.\"\n\n\"He might repent,\" suggested another who was more benevolent.\n\n\"No chance of that,\" returned the former. \"Misers never do. The love of\nmoney has less in it to cure itself than any other wickedness into\nwhich wretched men can fall. What a mercy it is to be born a Shadow!\nWickedness does not stick to us. What do we care for gold!--Rubbish!\"\n\n\"Amen! Amen! Amen!\" came from a hundred shadow-voices.\n\n\"You should have let her murder him, and so you would have been quit of\nhim.\"\n\n\"And besides, how was he to escape at last? He could never get rid of\nher, you know.\"\n\n\"I was going to tell you,\" resumed the narrator, \"only you had so many\nshadow-remarks to make, that you would not let me.\"\n\n\"Go on; go on.\"\n\n\"There was a little grandchild who used to come and see him\nsometimes--the only creature the miser cared for. Her mother was his\ndaughter; but the old man would never see her, because she had married\nagainst his will. Her husband was now dead, but he had not forgiven her\nyet. After the shadow he had seen, however, he said to himself, as he\nlay awake that night--I saw the words on his face--'How shall I get rid\nof that old devil? If I don't eat I shall die; and if I do eat I shall\nbe poisoned. I wish little Mary would come. Ah! her mother would never\nhave served me so.' He lay awake, thinking such things over and over\nagain, all night long, and I stood watching him from a dark corner,\ntill the dayspring came and shook me out. When I came back next night,\nthe room was tidy and clean. His own daughter, a sad-faced but\nbeautiful woman, sat by his bedside; and little Mary was curled up on\nthe floor by the fire, imitating us, by making queer shadows on the\nceiling with her twisted hands. But she could not think how ever they\ngot there. And no wonder, for I helped her to some very unaccountable\nones.\"\n\n\"I have a story about a granddaughter, too,\" said another, the moment\nthat speaker ceased.\n\n\"Tell it. Tell it.\"\n\n\"Last Christmas-day,\" he began, \"I and a troop of us set out in the\ntwilight to find some house where we could all have something to do;\nfor we had made up our minds to act together. We tried several, but\nfound objections to them all. At last we espied a large lonely\ncountry-house, and hastening to it, we found great preparations making\nfor the Christmas dinner. We rushed into it, scampered all over it, and\nmade up our minds in a moment that it would do. We amused ourselves in\nthe nursery first, where there were several children being dressed for\ndinner. We generally do go to the nursery first, your majesty. This\ntime we were especially charmed with a little girl about five years\nold, who clapped her hands and danced about with delight at the antics\nwe performed; and we said we would do something for her if we had a\nchance. The company began to arrive; and at every arrival we rushed to\nthe hall, and cut wonderful capers of welcome. Between times we scudded\naway to see how the dressing went on. One girl about eighteen was\ndelightful. She dressed herself as if she did not care much about it,\nbut could not help doing it prettily. When she took her last look at\nthe phantom in the glass, she half smiled to it.--But _we_ do not like\nthose creatures that come into the mirrors at all, your majesty. We\ndon't understand them. They are dreadful to us.--She looked rather sad\nand pale, but very sweet and hopeful. So we wanted to know all about\nher, and soon found out that she was a distant relation and a great\nfavourite of the gentleman of the house, an old man, in whose face\nbenevolence was mingled with obstinacy and a deep shade of the\ntyrannical. We could not admire him much; but we would not make up our\nminds all at once: Shadows never do.\n\n\"The dinner-bell rang, and down we hurried. The children all looked\nhappy, and we were merry. But there was one cross fellow among the\nservants, and didn't we plague him! and didn't we get fun out of him!\nWhen he was bringing up dishes, we lay in wait for him at every corner,\nand sprang upon him from the floor, and from over the banisters, and\ndown from the cornices. He started and stumbled and blundered so in\nconsequence, that his fellow-servants thought he was tipsy. Once he\ndropped a plate, and had to pick up the pieces, and hurry away with\nthem; and didn't we pursue him as he went! It was lucky for him his\nmaster did not see how he went on; but we took care not to let him get\ninto any real scrape, though he was quite dazed with the dodging of the\nunaccountable shadows. Sometimes he thought the walls were coming down\nupon him; sometimes that the floor was gaping to swallow him; sometimes\nthat he would be knocked to pieces by the hurrying to and fro, or be\nsmothered in the black crowd.\n\n\"When the blazing plum-pudding was carried in we made a perfect\nshadow-carnival about it, dancing and mumming in the blue flames,\nlike mad demons. And how the children screamed with delight!\n\n\"The old gentleman, who was very fond of children, was laughing his\nheartiest laugh, when a loud knock came to the hall-door. The fair\nmaiden started, turned paler, and then red as the Christmas fire. I saw\nit, and flung my hands across her face. She was very glad, and I know\nshe said in her heart, 'You kind Shadow!' which paid me well. Then I\nfollowed the rest into the hall, and found there a jolly, handsome,\nbrown-faced sailor, evidently a son of the house. The old man received\nhim with tears in his eyes, and the children with shouts of joy. The\nmaiden escaped in the confusion, just in time to save herself from\nfainting. We crowded about the lamp to hide her retreat, and nearly put\nit out; and the butler could not get it to burn up before she had\nglided into her place again, relieved to find the room so dark. The\nsailor only had seen her go, and now he sat down beside her, and,\nwithout a word, got hold of her hand in the gloom. When we all\nscattered to the walls and the corners, and the lamp blazed up again,\nhe let her hand go.\n\n\"During the rest of the dinner the old man watched the two, and saw\nthat there was something between them, and was very angry. For he was\nan important man in his own estimation, and they had never consulted\nhim. The fact was, they had never known their own minds till the sailor\nhad gone upon his last voyage, and had learned each other's only this\nmoment.--We found out all this by watching them, and then talking\ntogether about it afterwards.--The old gentleman saw, too, that his\nfavourite, who was under such obligation to him for loving her so much,\nloved his son better than him; and he grew by degrees so jealous that\nhe overshadowed the whole table with his morose looks and short\nanswers. That kind of shadowing is very different from ours; and the\nChristmas dessert grew so gloomy that we Shadows could not bear it, and\nwere delighted when the ladies rose to go to the drawing-room. The\ngentlemen would not stay behind the ladies, even for the sake of the\nwell-known wine. So the moody host, notwithstanding his hospitality,\nwas left alone at the table in the great silent room. We followed the\ncompany upstairs to the drawing-room, and thence to the nursery for\nsnap-dragon; but while they were busy with this most shadowy of games,\nnearly all the Shadows crept downstairs again to the dining-room, where\nthe old man still sat, gnawing the bone of his own selfishness. They\ncrowded into the room, and by using every kind of expansion--blowing\nthemselves out like soap-bubbles--they succeeded in heaping up the\nwhole room with shade upon shade. They clustered thickest about the\nfire and the lamp, till at last they almost drowned them in hills of\ndarkness.\n\n\"Before they had accomplished so much, the children, tired with fun and\nfrolic, had been put to bed. But the little girl of five years old,\nwith whom we had been so pleased when first we arrived, could not go to\nsleep. She had a little room of her own; and I had watched her to bed,\nand now kept her awake by gambolling in the rays of the night-light.\nWhen her eyes were once fixed upon me, I took the shape of her\ngrandfather, representing him on the wall as he sat in his chair, with\nhis head bent down and his arms hanging listlessly by his sides. And\nthe child remembered that that was just as she had seen him last; for\nshe had happened to peep in at the dining-room door after all the rest\nhad gone upstairs. 'What if he should be sitting there still,' thought\nshe, 'all alone in the dark!' She scrambled out of bed and crept down.\n\n\"Meantime the others had made the room below so dark, that only the\nface and white hair of the old man could be dimly discerned in the\nshadowy crowd. For he had filled his own mind with shadows, which we\nShadows wanted to draw out of him. Those shadows are very different\nfrom us, your majesty knows. He was thinking of all the disappointments\nhe had had in life, and of all the ingratitude he had met with. And he\nthought far more of the good he had done, than the good others had got.\n'After all I have done for them,' said he, with a sigh of bitterness,\n'not one of them cares a straw for me. My own children will be glad\nwhen I am gone!'--At that instant he lifted up his eyes and saw,\nstanding close by the door, a tiny figure in a long night-gown. The\ndoor behind her was shut. It was my little friend, who had crept in\nnoiselessly. A pang of icy fear shot to the old man's heart, but it\nmelted away as fast, for we made a lane through us for a single ray\nfrom the fire to fall on the face of the little sprite; and he thought\nit was a child of his own that had died when just the age of her\nchild-niece, who now stood looking for her grandfather among the\nShadows. He thought she had come out of her grave in the cold darkness\nto ask why her father was sitting alone on Christmas-day. And he felt\nhe had no answer to give his little ghost, but one he would be ashamed\nfor her to hear. But his grandchild saw him now, and walked up to him\nwith a childish stateliness, stumbling once or twice on what seemed her\nlong shroud. Pushing through the crowded shadows, she reached him,\nclimbed upon his knee, laid her little long-haired head on his\nshoulders, and said,--'Ganpa! you goomy? Isn't it your Kissy-Day too,\nganpa?'\n\n\"A new fount of love seemed to burst from the clay of the old man's\nheart. He clasped the child to his bosom, and wept. Then, without a\nword, he rose with her in his arms, carried her up to her room, and\nlaying her down in her bed, covered her up, kissed her sweet little\nmouth unconscious of reproof, and then went to the drawing-room.\n\n\"As soon as he entered, he saw the culprits in a quiet corner alone. He\nwent up to them, took a hand of each, and joining them in both his,\nsaid, 'God bless you!' Then he turned to the rest of the company, and\n'Now,' said he, 'let's have a Christmas carol.'--And well he might; for\nthough I have paid many visits to the house, I have never seen him\ncross since; and I am sure that must cost him a good deal of trouble.\"\n\n\"We have just come from a great palace,\" said another, \"where we knew\nthere were many children, and where we thought to hear glad voices, and\nsee royally merry looks. But as soon as we entered, we became aware\nthat one mighty Shadow shrouded the whole; and that Shadow deepened and\ndeepened, till it gathered in darkness about the reposing form of a\nwise prince. When we saw him, we could move no more, but clung heavily\nto the walls, and by our stillness added to the sorrow of the hour. And\nwhen we saw the mother of her people weeping with bowed head for the\nloss of him in whom she had trusted, we were seized with such a longing\nto be Shadows no more, but winged angels, which are the white shadows\ncast in heaven from the Light of Light, so as to gather around her, and\nhover over her with comforting, that we vanished from the walls, and\nfound ourselves floating high above the towers of the palace, where we\nmet the angels on their way, and knew that our service was not needed.\"\n\nBy this time there was a glimmer of approaching moonlight, and the king\nbegan to see several of those stranger Shadows, with human faces and\neyes, moving about amongst the crowd. He knew at once that they did not\nbelong to his dominion. They looked at him, and came near him, and\npassed slowly, but they never made any obeisance, or gave sign of\nhomage. And what their eyes said to him, the king only could tell. And\nhe did not tell.\n\n\"What are those other Shadows that move through the crowd?\" said he to\none of his subjects near him.\n\nThe Shadow started, looked round, shivered slightly, and laid his\nfinger on his lips. Then leading the king a little aside, and looking\ncarefully about him once more,--\n\n\"I do not know,\" said he in a low tone, \"what they are. I have heard of\nthem often, but only once did I ever see any of them before. That was\nwhen some of us one night paid a visit to a man who sat much alone, and\nwas said to think a great deal. We saw two of those sitting in the room\nwith him, and he was as pale as they were. We could not cross the\nthreshold, but shivered and shook, and felt ready to melt away. Is not\nyour majesty afraid of them too?\"\n\nBut the king made no answer; and before he could speak again, the moon\nhad climbed above the mighty pillars of the church of the Shadows, and\nlooked in at the great window of the sky.\n\nThe shapes had all vanished; and the king, again lifting up his eyes,\nsaw but the wall of his own chamber, on which flickered the Shadow of a\nLittle Child. He looked down, and there, sitting on a stool by the\nfire, he saw one of his own little ones, waiting to say good-night to\nhis father, and go to bed early, that he might rise early too, and be\nvery good and happy all Christmas-day.\n\nAnd Ralph Rinkelmann rejoiced that he was a man, and not a Shadow.\n\nBut as the Shadows vanished they left the sense of song in the king's\nbrain. And the words of their song must have been something like\nthese:--\n\n  \"Shadows, Shadows, Shadows all!\n   Shadow birth and funeral!\n   Shadow moons gleam overhead;\n   Over shadow-graves we tread.\n   Shadow-hope lives, grows, and dies.\n   Shadow-love from shadow-eyes\n   Shadow-ward entices on\n   To shadow-words on shadow-stone,\n   Closing up the shadow-tale\n   With a shadow-shadow-wail.\n\n  \"Shadow-man, thou art a gloom\n   Cast upon a shadow-tomb\n   Through the endless shadow air,\n   From the shadow sitting there,\n   On a moveless shadow-throne,\n   Glooming through the ages gone;\n   North and south, and in and out,\n   East and west, and all about,\n   Flinging Shadows everywhere\n   On the shadow-painted air\n   Shadow-man, thou hast no story;\n   Nothing but a shadow-glory.\"\n\nBut Ralph Rinkelmann said to himself,--\n\n\"They are but Shadows that sing thus; for a Shadow can see but Shadows.\nA man sees a man where a Shadow sees only a Shadow.\"\n\nAnd he was comforted in himself.","title":"Cross Purposes and The Shadows","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":18271}