TWO VOLUMES OF FAIRY STORIES.*
No one who reads these little volumes, more especially Miss De Morgan's, will be inclined to say again, as has often been said, that the imagination which produced the genuine old fairy-stories is disappearing with the scientific culture of the age. Hans Christian Andersen's best tales, perfect as they are of their kind, are hardly refutations of this assertion, for they are hardly fairy stories of the old type. They have in them too much of that sly satirical humour which contains constant reference to the world of human things, to constitute any refutation of the notion that the delightful old marvels to which children, and sometimes even men, listen with wide-eyed wonder and momentary half- belief i were born of another age than this, and conceived by fancies freer than ours are from the rigid fetters of scientific die. tation. But the little books before us contain genuine new fairy. stories of the old type,—some of them as delightful as the best of Grimm's German Popular Stories, and with one or two ex- ceptions, no attempts at parable, or even at allusive irony. One of these exceptions is Miss Kavanagh's story of "Fire and Water," in which we discover with some resentment a parable of the wonders of the steam-engine,—our interest in the tale ars a fairy tale completely ceasing the moment we are aware i how we are being instructed ;—and to a less extent Miss De Morgan's pretty little story of •" The Opal," though more of the nature of mytho- logy than allegory, may be liable to criticism on a similar ground. But for the most part, the stories in both volumes are down- right, thorough-going fairy-stories of the most admirable kind, without any misty parable, or allegory, or mythology in them, and yet full of real novelty. We can say nothing better of Miss De Morgan's "Seeds of Love," " Siegfrid and Handa," "The Hair- Tree," and "The Toy Princess" than that they deserveto appear for the future in the same collections of tales as "Jack and the Beanstalk," "The Nose-Tree," "The Twelve Dancing Prin- cesses," and " Rumpelstiltzchen," which is like saying of a new poem that it deserves a place in Mr. Palgrave's Golden Treasury, or of a new novel that it deserves to be ranked with those of Sir Walter Scott or Miss Austen. The Miss Kavanaghe, though we do not think that either of them reaches quite the same level of grave imaginative realism in inventiveness, have given um some stories on the level next below these, for example, "Tipsy's Silver Bell," "Prince Doran," and "Batty," which are full of charming fancy, though they do not quite rivet you with that grave feeling of encountering real marvels which is the highest triumph of a fairy-tale. A true fairy-tale must be in thorough earnest. You must never detect a vein of second meaning in it, for if you do, all your faith in it as narrative disappears at once. Then its wonders, though they must be quite arbitrary, and though there must be no flavour of possible explanation about them, such as makes allegory and parable so insincere and offensive to a true child's imagination, must have a congruity of their own amongst themselves to give unity to the tale. If you have to deal with enchanted birds, then it is confirmatory of your faith in the story to find that the enchanted bird is hungering for the fruit of enchanted trees. If you have to do with a world of intense and diffused light, it is confirmatory of your faith to find that the minis a black sun, which relieves you by diffusing rays of shadow. Miss De Morgan has had the instinct to grasp firmly these laws of fairy-tales, and nothing could be a finer masterpiece in it way than her tale of "The Hair-Tree." There is no child with the right taste for fairy-stories but will be profoundly convinced at once of the real existence somewhere of the island here described :—
• On a Pincushion, and other Fairy-Tales. By Mary de Morgan. With Illu5. trations by William deMorgan. London: Seeley, Jackson. and Halliday. The Pearl Fountain, and other Fairy-Tales. By Bridget and Jolla Kavsnagli- With 80 Illustrations by J. Moyr Smith. London: Matto krid Whidtis.
"Rupert sailed and sailed to the north till he began to think he must be coming to the magic country of which he had heard. For a long time he went on without seeing land anywhere, but at last he came in sight of a little island standing quite alone in the middle of the water. On it there grew neither grass nor flowers of any sort, but three solitary trees. One was much like a common nut-tree, only all the nuts were of a bright red colour ; the boughs of the second were laden with pre- cious stones of all kinds, diamonds and rubies, emeralds and pearls ; but the third tree was the strangest of all, for its boughs were quite bare, and looked as if they were made of polished brass, and on the centre at the top grew an enormous pod, which pointed straight at the sky. It looked like a great brass drum. Rupert pulled up his boat, and, spring-. ing on to the island, filled his pockets full of precious stones and com- mon nuts, and then stood still looking at the enormous pod and wonder- ing what it could contain. While he watched it there was a noise like a clap of thunder, and the pod burst asunder, and twelve round shining golden nuts fell to the ground. At the same time the tree withered as if it had been struck by lightning, and the brass branches all fell away. Rupert was so frightened by the noise the pod made in bursting that he had buried his face in the ground, but when he found all was quiet again, he slowly raised himself, and picked up one of the gold nuts to examine it. As they were pretty and bright, he thought he would take them all for curiosities, and he placed them on the seat of his little boat. But as he rowed away from the island he began to feel sure he was coming to the enchanted land. The fishes no longer started away from the side of the boat, but swam after it in a long trail, and when he baited his line and threw it overboard not one would bite, but swam up quite close to the hook and then turned away, giving little, low, scoffing laughs. Rupert was sorely puzzled, and sat looking at the water in wonder, when he heard a whirring of wings overhead, and a great yellow bird flew round the boat, and at last perched on the prow and peered curiously into his face. After a few minutes it said, 'Are those nuts you have in your pocket?' Rupert - said YOH; and 'Hawing out a handful of the red nuts, offered them to the bird. Crack some and give me the kernels,' said the bird. Rupert obeyed, afraid to refuse, as he remembered what a dreadful thing had happened to the poor Queen for not being polite to a bird. The bird went on eating the nuts and then said, 'Where are you going ?' Then the sailor told how the Queen had been rude to a bird, who had in return destroyed her hair. I know ; that was me,' said the bird, with a chuckle. Give me some more nuts.' Rupert again handed the bird the nuts, and then went on relating how the Queen had had a strange dream of a wonderful Hair-Tree, and how the King had offered a re- ward to any one who could find it; so he was going to look for it. You will search a long time for the Hair-Tree, I expect,' said the bird, still munching. If the Queen waits for her hair till it is found, she will have to do without it nearly all her life. I suppose she'll wish now that she had been civil.' But as he finished speaking, the bird's glance fell on the golden nuts lying on the seat, and with a shrill cry he flew at them ; but Rupert had seized them first, and held them firmly out of his reach. What are these?' gasped the bird. Where did you get them ? Tell me at once.'—' They came,' said Rupert, still holding the bag tightly, from the single pod of a tree that has no leaves, and whose branches look like brass, and that grows on a little island not far from here.' On hearing this the bird gave a low cry, and crouched down on ODO side of the boat, where it sat eyeing Rupert and the nuts greedily, and shaking with rage. 'Then they are the nuts of the zirbal-tree; he said at last; 'and the pod has broken when I was not there. For two thousand years have I waited for that pod to break, and now it will be two thousand years before it is ripe again, and it is the onlysirbal-tree living, and there is nothing on earth like its nuts."
That passage might rank with the best in the Arabian Nights or Grimm's Popular Stories. And the heart of any genuine lover of fairy-tales will swell high with satisfaction when he hears the bird's oonfession that he had been waiting for two thousand years for the pod to swell and break, and that it had done so in his absence, after all. Moreover, there is the true reserve which -belongs to a genuine fairy-story, about the narrative. We are not told,—and we ought not to be told,—why the bird so eagerly desired the nuts of the zirbal-tree. In such stories we have nothing to do with reasons ; the solid blocks of marvel should be raised one upon another, without any weak, interposing mortar of rationalism or motive. The reader has far greater respect for the zirbal-nuts when he observes that all the wonderful creatures of the tale eagerly desire them, though he has not the least notion why, than he could have if there were any weak attempt to explain the why. It is enough to know that when it takes two thousand years to produce twelve nuts, they must be nuts of immense value to the magic world in which they grow. There is the same admirable and startling realism about the marvels of " Siegfrid and Hands," which it is difficult to believe to be a tale of modern invention at all, so earnest is the wonder which it excites throughout. "A Toy Princess," though equally good, is a tale of quite another sort, and shows that Miss De Morgan has some of he qualities of a satirist and humourist—such qualities as Andersen put into his tales, though there is not the slightest -ring of Andersen's manner about it. The Court, in which it was bad manners to laugli or cry, or show any emotion at all, so that a Princess with a real heart could not endure her life in it, 'would not in itself be a very brilliant conception. But the delightful means taken by the Princess's fairy godmother, Taboret, to supply her place while she is being educated among human -beingef.ia altt last-she rose, and went out to pay a Tisit to the largest shop in Fairyland. It was a queer sort of shop. It was neither a grocer's, nor a draper's, nor a hatter's. Yet it contained sugar, and dresses, and hats. But the sugar was magic sugar, which transformed any liquid into which it was put; the dresses each had some special charm, and the hats were wishing-caps. It was, in fact,. a shop where every sort of spell or charm was sold. Into this shop Taboret flew; and as she-was well known there as a good customer, the master of the shop oame forward to meet her at once, and bowing, begged to know what he could get for her. I want,' said Taboret, 'a Princess.'—' A Princess 1' said the ahopman, who was in reality an old wizard. 'What -sizes do you want it? I have one or two in stock.'—' It must look now about six years old. But it must grow.'—' I can make you one,' said the wizard, 'but it'll come rather expensive.'—' I don't mind that,' said Taboret. ' Seel I want it to look exactly like this,' and so saying, she took a portrait of Ursula out of her bosom and gave it to the old man, who examined it carefully.—' I'll get it for you,' he said. When will you want it? '—'As soon as possible,' said Taboret. By to-morrow evening, if possible. How much will it cost ?'—' It'll come to a good deal,' said the wizard, thoughtfully. 'I have such difficulty in getting these things properly made in these days. What sort of a voice is it to have ?'—' It need not be at all talkative,' said Taboret, 'so that won't add much to the price. It need only say, "If you please," "No, thank you," Certainly," and "Just so."—' Well, under those oiroumstanoes,' said the wizard, 'I will do it for four cat's footfall's, two fish's screams, and two swan's songs.'—'It is too much,' cried Taboret. I'll give you the footfalls and the screams, but to ask for swans' songs!' She did not really think it dear, but she always made a point of trying to beat tradesmen down.—' I can't do it for less,' said the wizard, 'and if you think it too much, you'd better try another shop.'—'As I am really in a hurry for it, and cannot spend time in searching about, I suppose I must have it,' said Taboret ; 'but I con- sider the price very high. When will it be ready ?'—' By to-morrow evening.'—' Very well, then, be sure it is ready for me by the time I call for it, and whatever you do, don't make it at all noisy or rough in its ways ;' and Taboret swept out of the shop and returned to her home. Next evening she returned, and asked if her job was done. 'I will fetch it, and I am sure you will like it,' said the wizard, leaving the shop as he spoke. Presently he came back, leading by the hand a pretty little girl of about six years old,—a little girl so like the Princess Ursula that no one could have told them apart.—' Well,' said Taboret, it looks well enough. But are you sure it's a good piece of workmanship, and won't give way anywhere ?'—' It's as good a piece of work as ever was done,' said the wizard proudly, striking the child on the back as he spoke. 'Look at it ! Examine it all over, and see if you find a flaw anywhere. There's not one fairy in twenty who could tell it from the real thing, and no mortal could.'—' It seems to be fairly made,' said Taboret, approvingly, as she turned the little girl round. 'Now pay you, and then will be off ;' with which she raised her wand in the air and waved it three times, and there arose a series of strange sounds. The first was a low tramping, the second shrill and piercing screams, the third voices of wonderful beauty, singing a very sorrowful song. 'The wizard caught all the sounds and pocketed them at once, and Taberet, without ceremony, picked up the child, took her head downwards under her arm, and flew away." And the scene in which the father of the real Princess and his Court are asked to choose between the enchanted doll and the human being is as good as some of the best things in Andaraen, though, as we said, not in the least in his manner. The, enchanted doll is sent for :— "'We have desired that your presence be requested,' the Zing was beginning, but Taboret without any ceremony advanced towards her, and struck her" [the doll-Princess] "lightly on the head with her wand. In a moment the head rolled on the ,floor, leaving the body standing motionless as before, and showing that it was but an empty shell. 'Just so,' said the head, as it milled towards the King, and he and the courtiers nearly swooned with fear. When they were a little recovered, the King spoke again. "The fairy tells me,' he said, 'that there is somewhere a real Princess whom she wishes us to adopt as our daughter. And in the meantime let her Royal Highness be carefully placed in a cupboard, and a general mourning be proclaimed for this dire event.' So saying he glanced tenderly at the body and head, and turned weeping away. So it -was settled that Taboret was to fetch Princess Ursula, and the Sing, and Council were to be assembled to meet her 'Now, how is it,' she cried, 'I find the Princess Ursula in tears? and I am sure you are making her unhappy. When you had that bit of wood-and-leather Princess, you could behave well enough to it, but now that you have a real flesh-and-blood woman, you none of you care for her.'—' Our late dear daughter—' began the King, when the fairy interrupted him. I do believe,' she said, that you would like to have the doll back again. Now I will give you your choice. Which will you have,— my Princess Ursula, the real one, or your Princess Ursula, the sham?' The King sank back into his chair. 'I am not equal to this,' he said ; summon the Council, and let them settle it by vote.' So the Council were summoned, and the fairy explained to them why they were wanted. 'Let both Princesses be fetched,' she said; and the toy Prin- cess was brought in with great care from her cupboard, and her head stood on the table beside her, and the real Princess came in with her eyes still red from crying and her bosom heaving. I should think there could be no doubt which one would prefer,' said the Prime Minister to the Chancellor. I should think not either,' answered the Chancellor. Then vote,' said Taboret ; and they all voted, and every vote was for the sham Ursula, and not one for the real one. Taboret only laughed. 'You are a pack of sillies and idiots, she said, 'but you shall have what you want ;' and she picked up the head,-and with a wave of her wand stuck it on to the body, and it moved round slowly, and said, 'Certainly,' just in its old voice ; and on hearing this, all the courtiers gave something as like a cheer as they thought polite, whilst the old King could not speak for joy. 'We will,' he cried, at once make our arrangements for abdicating and leaving the government in the hands of our dear daughter ;' and on hearing this, the coluiseri all applauded again." That has the true ring of the humourist in it as well as the realism of the fairy-story. Indeed, Miss De Morgan has written a little book which will be, we believe, almost as popular in time to come as the immortals of fairy-lore. Some of Mr. De Morgan's illustrations are fall of life and humour, as, for instance, the little one which is placed at the conclusion of "The Toy Princess." The Miss Kavanaghs' fairy-stories are not, as we said, quite of the same rank in realistic force, but there is a touch of true grace about many of them which charms us in a different way. In The Pearl Fountain, for instance, the account of the wren's games of play with the fairy is fascinating after its kind, and the story of the faineant Prince Doran and his wonderful talent for sleep is full of both humour and fancy. Again, the story of Fairie and Brownie, and the little song with which they delighted the prime minister of the fairy-king, is full of fun, as well as fall of that sincerity which is the fairy-story's special ex- cellence. Mr. J. Moyr Smith's illustrations, too, are admirable. Look at that white rabbit in the illustration opposite page 84. Any one would see at the first glance that he is a rabbit with a mind, and a very uncommon mind too,—that he is a fairy-rabbit, and that he is posing as chief adviser to some one,—without read- ing even a word of the story. Again, notice the fairy-like effect of the little picture on page 196 of the fairy-bird 'Don't- forget-me,' flying away back into fairy-land. A more perfectly dreamlike impression of fairy-land has hardly been given in any illustration of fairy-tales within our knowledge. These little volumes are both delightful in their way, but Miss De Morgan's has a stamp upon it such as is not often found in the fairy-stories of our unfortunately too enlightened age.
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