<SPAN name="2HCH0023"></SPAN>
<h2> CHAPTER XXIII </h2>
<p>"High erected thought, seated in a heart of courtesy."<br/>
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.<br/>
<br/>
"A sweet attractive kinde of grace,<br/>
A full assurance given by lookes,<br/>
Continuall comfort in a face,<br/>
The lineaments of Gospel bookes."<br/>
MATTHEW ROYDON, on Sir Philip Sidney.<br/></p>
<p>I had not gone far, for I had but just lost sight of the hated tower,
when a voice of another sort, sounding near or far, as the trees
permitted or intercepted its passage, reached me. It was a full, deep,
manly voice, but withal clear and melodious. Now it burst on the ear
with a sudden swell, and anon, dying away as suddenly, seemed to come to
me across a great space. Nevertheless, it drew nearer; till, at last, I
could distinguish the words of the song, and get transient glimpses of
the singer, between the columns of the trees. He came nearer, dawning
upon me like a growing thought. He was a knight, armed from head to
heel, mounted upon a strange-looking beast, whose form I could not
understand. The words which I heard him sing were like these:</p>
<p>Heart be stout,<br/>
And eye be true;<br/>
Good blade out!<br/>
And ill shall rue.<br/>
<br/>
Courage, horse!<br/>
Thou lackst no skill;<br/>
Well thy force<br/>
Hath matched my will.<br/>
<br/>
For the foe<br/>
With fiery breath,<br/>
At a blow,<br/>
It still in death.<br/>
<br/>
Gently, horse!<br/>
Tread fearlessly;<br/>
'Tis his corse<br/>
That burdens thee.<br/>
<br/>
The sun's eye<br/>
Is fierce at noon;<br/>
Thou and I<br/>
Will rest full soon.<br/>
<br/>
And new strength<br/>
New work will meet;<br/>
Till, at length,<br/>
Long rest is sweet.<br/></p>
<p>And now horse and rider had arrived near enough for me to see, fastened
by the long neck to the hinder part of the saddle, and trailing its
hideous length on the ground behind, the body of a great dragon. It was
no wonder that, with such a drag at his heels, the horse could make
but slow progress, notwithstanding his evident dismay. The horrid,
serpent-like head, with its black tongue, forked with red, hanging out
of its jaws, dangled against the horse's side. Its neck was covered with
long blue hair, its sides with scales of green and gold. Its back was of
corrugated skin, of a purple hue. Its belly was similar in nature, but
its colour was leaden, dashed with blotches of livid blue. Its skinny,
bat-like wings and its tail were of a dull gray. It was strange to see
how so many gorgeous colours, so many curving lines, and such beautiful
things as wings and hair and scales, combined to form the horrible
creature, intense in ugliness.</p>
<p>The knight was passing me with a salutation; but, as I walked towards
him, he reined up, and I stood by his stirrup. When I came near him, I
saw to my surprise and pleasure likewise, although a sudden pain, like
a birth of fire, sprang up in my heart, that it was the knight of the
soiled armour, whom I knew before, and whom I had seen in the vision,
with the lady of the marble. But I could have thrown my arms around him,
because she loved him. This discovery only strengthened the resolution
I had formed, before I recognised him, of offering myself to the knight,
to wait upon him as a squire, for he seemed to be unattended. I made
my request in as few words as possible. He hesitated for a moment, and
looked at me thoughtfully. I saw that he suspected who I was, but that
he continued uncertain of his suspicion. No doubt he was soon convinced
of its truth; but all the time I was with him, not a word crossed his
lips with reference to what he evidently concluded I wished to leave
unnoticed, if not to keep concealed.</p>
<p>"Squire and knight should be friends," said he: "can you take me by the
hand?" And he held out the great gauntleted right hand. I grasped it
willingly and strongly. Not a word more was said. The knight gave the
sign to his horse, which again began his slow march, and I walked beside
and a little behind.</p>
<p>We had not gone very far before we arrived at a little cottage; from
which, as we drew near, a woman rushed out with the cry:</p>
<p>"My child! my child! have you found my child?"</p>
<p>"I have found her," replied the knight, "but she is sorely hurt. I was
forced to leave her with the hermit, as I returned. You will find her
there, and I think she will get better. You see I have brought you
a present. This wretch will not hurt you again." And he undid the
creature's neck, and flung the frightful burden down by the cottage
door.</p>
<p>The woman was now almost out of sight in the wood; but the husband stood
at the door, with speechless thanks in his face.</p>
<p>"You must bury the monster," said the knight. "If I had arrived a moment
later, I should have been too late. But now you need not fear, for such
a creature as this very rarely appears, in the same part, twice during a
lifetime."</p>
<p>"Will you not dismount and rest you, Sir Knight?" said the peasant, who
had, by this time, recovered himself a little.</p>
<p>"That I will, thankfully," said he; and, dismounting, he gave the reins
to me, and told me to unbridle the horse, and lead him into the shade.
"You need not tie him up," he added; "he will not run away."</p>
<p>When I returned, after obeying his orders, and entered the cottage, I
saw the knight seated, without his helmet, and talking most familiarly
with the simple host. I stood at the open door for a moment, and, gazing
at him, inwardly justified the white lady in preferring him to me. A
nobler countenance I never saw. Loving-kindness beamed from every line
of his face. It seemed as if he would repay himself for the late arduous
combat, by indulging in all the gentleness of a womanly heart. But when
the talk ceased for a moment, he seemed to fall into a reverie. Then the
exquisite curves of the upper lip vanished. The lip was lengthened and
compressed at the same moment. You could have told that, within the
lips, the teeth were firmly closed. The whole face grew stern and
determined, all but fierce; only the eyes burned on like a holy
sacrifice, uplift on a granite rock.</p>
<p>The woman entered, with her mangled child in her arms. She was pale
as her little burden. She gazed, with a wild love and despairing
tenderness, on the still, all but dead face, white and clear from loss
of blood and terror.</p>
<p>The knight rose. The light that had been confined to his eyes, now shone
from his whole countenance. He took the little thing in his arms, and,
with the mother's help, undressed her, and looked to her wounds. The
tears flowed down his face as he did so. With tender hands he bound them
up, kissed the pale cheek, and gave her back to her mother. When he went
home, all his tale would be of the grief and joy of the parents; while
to me, who had looked on, the gracious countenance of the armed man,
beaming from the panoply of steel, over the seemingly dead child, while
the powerful hands turned it and shifted it, and bound it, if possible
even more gently than the mother's, formed the centre of the story.</p>
<p>After we had partaken of the best they could give us, the knight took
his leave, with a few parting instructions to the mother as to how she
should treat the child.</p>
<p>I brought the knight his steed, held the stirrup while he mounted, and
then followed him through the wood. The horse, delighted to be free
of his hideous load, bounded beneath the weight of man and armour, and
could hardly be restrained from galloping on. But the knight made him
time his powers to mine, and so we went on for an hour or two. Then
the knight dismounted, and compelled me to get into the saddle, saying:
"Knight and squire must share the labour."</p>
<p>Holding by the stirrup, he walked along by my side, heavily clad as he
was, with apparent ease. As we went, he led a conversation, in which I
took what humble part my sense of my condition would permit me.</p>
<p>"Somehow or other," said he, "notwithstanding the beauty of this country
of Faerie, in which we are, there is much that is wrong in it. If there
are great splendours, there are corresponding horrors; heights and
depths; beautiful women and awful fiends; noble men and weaklings. All
a man has to do, is to better what he can. And if he will settle it
with himself, that even renown and success are in themselves of no great
value, and be content to be defeated, if so be that the fault is not
his; and so go to his work with a cool brain and a strong will, he
will get it done; and fare none the worse in the end, that he was not
burdened with provision and precaution."</p>
<p>"But he will not always come off well," I ventured to say.</p>
<p>"Perhaps not," rejoined the knight, "in the individual act; but the
result of his lifetime will content him."</p>
<p>"So it will fare with you, doubtless," thought I; "but for me—-"</p>
<p>Venturing to resume the conversation after a pause, I said,
hesitatingly:</p>
<p>"May I ask for what the little beggar-girl wanted your aid, when she
came to your castle to find you?"</p>
<p>He looked at me for a moment in silence, and then said—</p>
<p>"I cannot help wondering how you know of that; but there is something
about you quite strange enough to entitle you to the privilege of the
country; namely, to go unquestioned. I, however, being only a man, such
as you see me, am ready to tell you anything you like to ask me, as far
as I can. The little beggar-girl came into the hall where I was sitting,
and told me a very curious story, which I can only recollect very
vaguely, it was so peculiar. What I can recall is, that she was sent to
gather wings. As soon as she had gathered a pair of wings for herself,
she was to fly away, she said, to the country she came from; but where
that was, she could give no information.</p>
<p>"She said she had to beg her wings from the butterflies and moths; and
wherever she begged, no one refused her. But she needed a great many of
the wings of butterflies and moths to make a pair for her; and so she
had to wander about day after day, looking for butterflies, and night
after night, looking for moths; and then she begged for their wings. But
the day before, she had come into a part of the forest, she said, where
there were multitudes of splendid butterflies flitting about, with wings
which were just fit to make the eyes in the shoulders of hers; and she
knew she could have as many of them as she liked for the asking; but as
soon as she began to beg, there came a great creature right up to her,
and threw her down, and walked over her. When she got up, she saw
the wood was full of these beings stalking about, and seeming to have
nothing to do with each other. As soon as ever she began to beg, one of
them walked over her; till at last in dismay, and in growing horror of
the senseless creatures, she had run away to look for somebody to help
her. I asked her what they were like. She said, like great men, made of
wood, without knee-or elbow-joints, and without any noses or mouths or
eyes in their faces. I laughed at the little maiden, thinking she was
making child's game of me; but, although she burst out laughing too, she
persisted in asserting the truth of her story."</p>
<p>"'Only come, knight, come and see; I will lead you.'</p>
<p>"So I armed myself, to be ready for anything that might happen, and
followed the child; for, though I could make nothing of her story, I
could see she was a little human being in need of some help or other. As
she walked before me, I looked attentively at her. Whether or not it was
from being so often knocked down and walked over, I could not tell, but
her clothes were very much torn, and in several places her white skin
was peeping through. I thought she was hump-backed; but on looking more
closely, I saw, through the tatters of her frock—do not laugh at me—a
bunch on each shoulder, of the most gorgeous colours. Looking yet more
closely, I saw that they were of the shape of folded wings, and were
made of all kinds of butterfly-wings and moth-wings, crowded together
like the feathers on the individual butterfly pinion; but, like them,
most beautifully arranged, and producing a perfect harmony of colour and
shade. I could now more easily believe the rest of her story; especially
as I saw, every now and then, a certain heaving motion in the wings,
as if they longed to be uplifted and outspread. But beneath her scanty
garments complete wings could not be concealed, and indeed, from her own
story, they were yet unfinished.</p>
<p>"After walking for two or three hours (how the little girl found her
way, I could not imagine), we came to a part of the forest, the very
air of which was quivering with the motions of multitudes of resplendent
butterflies; as gorgeous in colour, as if the eyes of peacocks' feathers
had taken to flight, but of infinite variety of hue and form, only that
the appearance of some kind of eye on each wing predominated. 'There
they are, there they are!' cried the child, in a tone of victory mingled
with terror. Except for this tone, I should have thought she referred
to the butterflies, for I could see nothing else. But at that moment
an enormous butterfly, whose wings had great eyes of blue surrounded by
confused cloudy heaps of more dingy colouring, just like a break in
the clouds on a stormy day towards evening, settled near us. The child
instantly began murmuring: 'Butterfly, butterfly, give me your wings';
when, the moment after, she fell to the ground, and began crying as if
hurt. I drew my sword and heaved a great blow in the direction in
which the child had fallen. It struck something, and instantly the most
grotesque imitation of a man became visible. You see this Fairy Land is
full of oddities and all sorts of incredibly ridiculous things, which a
man is compelled to meet and treat as real existences, although all the
time he feels foolish for doing so. This being, if being it could be
called, was like a block of wood roughly hewn into the mere outlines
of a man; and hardly so, for it had but head, body, legs, and arms—the
head without a face, and the limbs utterly formless. I had hewn off one
of its legs, but the two portions moved on as best they could, quite
independent of each other; so that I had done no good. I ran after
it, and clove it in twain from the head downwards; but it could not be
convinced that its vocation was not to walk over people; for, as soon as
the little girl began her begging again, all three parts came bustling
up; and if I had not interposed my weight between her and them, she
would have been trampled again under them. I saw that something else
must be done. If the wood was full of the creatures, it would be an
endless work to chop them so small that they could do no injury; and
then, besides, the parts would be so numerous, that the butterflies
would be in danger from the drift of flying chips. I served this one
so, however; and then told the girl to beg again, and point out the
direction in which one was coming. I was glad to find, however, that
I could now see him myself, and wondered how they could have been
invisible before. I would not allow him to walk over the child; but
while I kept him off, and she began begging again, another appeared; and
it was all I could do, from the weight of my armour, to protect her from
the stupid, persevering efforts of the two. But suddenly the right plan
occurred to me. I tripped one of them up, and, taking him by the legs,
set him up on his head, with his heels against a tree. I was delighted
to find he could not move. Meantime the poor child was walked over by
the other, but it was for the last time. Whenever one appeared, I
followed the same plan—tripped him up and set him on his head; and so
the little beggar was able to gather her wings without any trouble,
which occupation she continued for several hours in my company."</p>
<p>"What became of her?" I asked.</p>
<p>"I took her home with me to my castle, and she told me all her story;
but it seemed to me, all the time, as if I were hearing a child talk in
its sleep. I could not arrange her story in my mind at all, although it
seemed to leave hers in some certain order of its own. My wife—-"</p>
<p>Here the knight checked himself, and said no more. Neither did I urge
the conversation farther.</p>
<p>Thus we journeyed for several days, resting at night in such shelter
as we could get; and when no better was to be had, lying in the forest
under some tree, on a couch of old leaves.</p>
<p>I loved the knight more and more. I believe never squire served his
master with more care and joyfulness than I. I tended his horse; I
cleaned his armour; my skill in the craft enabled me to repair it when
necessary; I watched his needs; and was well repaid for all by the love
itself which I bore him.</p>
<p>"This," I said to myself, "is a true man. I will serve him, and give him
all worship, seeing in him the imbodiment of what I would fain become.
If I cannot be noble myself, I will yet be servant to his nobleness."
He, in return, soon showed me such signs of friendship and respect, as
made my heart glad; and I felt that, after all, mine would be no lost
life, if I might wait on him to the world's end, although no smile but
his should greet me, and no one but him should say, "Well done! he was
a good servant!" at last. But I burned to do something more for him than
the ordinary routine of a squire's duty permitted.</p>
<p>One afternoon, we began to observe an appearance of roads in the wood.
Branches had been cut down, and openings made, where footsteps had worn
no path below. These indications increased as we passed on, till, at
length, we came into a long, narrow avenue, formed by felling the trees
in its line, as the remaining roots evidenced. At some little distance,
on both hands, we observed signs of similar avenues, which appeared to
converge with ours, towards one spot. Along these we indistinctly saw
several forms moving, which seemed, with ourselves, to approach the
common centre. Our path brought us, at last, up to a wall of yew-trees,
growing close together, and intertwining their branches so, that nothing
could be seen beyond it. An opening was cut in it like a door, and all
the wall was trimmed smooth and perpendicular. The knight dismounted,
and waited till I had provided for his horse's comfort; upon which we
entered the place together.</p>
<p>It was a great space, bare of trees, and enclosed by four walls of yew,
similar to that through which we had entered. These trees grew to a very
great height, and did not divide from each other till close to the top,
where their summits formed a row of conical battlements all around the
walls. The space contained was a parallelogram of great length. Along
each of the two longer sides of the interior, were ranged three ranks
of men, in white robes, standing silent and solemn, each with a sword by
his side, although the rest of his costume and bearing was more priestly
than soldierly. For some distance inwards, the space between these
opposite rows was filled with a company of men and women and children,
in holiday attire. The looks of all were directed inwards, towards the
further end. Far beyond the crowd, in a long avenue, seeming to narrow
in the distance, went the long rows of the white-robed men. On what the
attention of the multitude was fixed, we could not tell, for the sun had
set before we arrived, and it was growing dark within. It grew darker
and darker. The multitude waited in silence. The stars began to shine
down into the enclosure, and they grew brighter and larger every moment.
A wind arose, and swayed the pinnacles of the tree-tops; and made a
strange sound, half like music, half like moaning, through the close
branches and leaves of the tree-walls. A young girl who stood beside me,
clothed in the same dress as the priests, bowed her head, and grew pale
with awe.</p>
<p>The knight whispered to me, "How solemn it is! Surely they wait to hear
the voice of a prophet. There is something good near!"</p>
<p>But I, though somewhat shaken by the feeling expressed by my master,
yet had an unaccountable conviction that here was something bad. So I
resolved to be keenly on the watch for what should follow.</p>
<p>Suddenly a great star, like a sun, appeared high in the air over the
temple, illuminating it throughout; and a great song arose from the men
in white, which went rolling round and round the building, now receding
to the end, and now approaching, down the other side, the place where we
stood. For some of the singers were regularly ceasing, and the next
to them as regularly taking up the song, so that it crept onwards with
gradations produced by changes which could not themselves be detected,
for only a few of those who were singing ceased at the same moment. The
song paused; and I saw a company of six of the white-robed men walk up
the centre of the human avenue, surrounding a youth gorgeously attired
beneath his robe of white, and wearing a chaplet of flowers on his
head. I followed them closely, with my keenest observation; and, by
accompanying their slow progress with my eyes, I was able to perceive
more clearly what took place when they arrived at the other end. I knew
that my sight was so much more keen than that of most people, that I had
good reason to suppose I should see more than the rest could, at such a
distance. At the farther end a throne stood upon a platform, high above
the heads of the surrounding priests. To this platform I saw the company
begin to ascend, apparently by an inclined plane or gentle slope. The
throne itself was elevated again, on a kind of square pedestal, to the
top of which led a flight of steps. On the throne sat a majestic-looking
figure, whose posture seemed to indicate a mixture of pride and
benignity, as he looked down on the multitude below. The company
ascended to the foot of the throne, where they all kneeled for some
minutes; then they rose and passed round to the side of the pedestal
upon which the throne stood. Here they crowded close behind the youth,
putting him in the foremost place, and one of them opened a door in the
pedestal, for the youth to enter. I was sure I saw him shrink back, and
those crowding behind pushed him in. Then, again, arose a burst of song
from the multitude in white, which lasted some time. When it ceased,
a new company of seven commenced its march up the centre. As they
advanced, I looked up at my master: his noble countenance was full of
reverence and awe. Incapable of evil himself, he could scarcely suspect
it in another, much less in a multitude such as this, and surrounded
with such appearances of solemnity. I was certain it was the really
grand accompaniments that overcame him; that the stars overhead, the
dark towering tops of the yew-trees, and the wind that, like an unseen
spirit, sighed through their branches, bowed his spirit to the belief,
that in all these ceremonies lay some great mystical meaning which, his
humility told him, his ignorance prevented him from understanding.</p>
<p>More convinced than before, that there was evil here, I could not endure
that my master should be deceived; that one like him, so pure and noble,
should respect what, if my suspicions were true, was worse than the
ordinary deceptions of priestcraft. I could not tell how far he might be
led to countenance, and otherwise support their doings, before he should
find cause to repent bitterly of his error. I watched the new procession
yet more keenly, if possible, than the former. This time, the central
figure was a girl; and, at the close, I observed, yet more indubitably,
the shrinking back, and the crowding push. What happened to the victims,
I never learned; but I had learned enough, and I could bear it no
longer. I stooped, and whispered to the young girl who stood by me, to
lend me her white garment. I wanted it, that I might not be entirely
out of keeping with the solemnity, but might have at least this help to
passing unquestioned. She looked up, half-amused and half-bewildered, as
if doubting whether I was in earnest or not. But in her perplexity, she
permitted me to unfasten it, and slip it down from her shoulders.</p>
<p>I easily got possession of it; and, sinking down on my knees in the
crowd, I rose apparently in the habit of one of the worshippers.</p>
<p>Giving my battle-axe to the girl, to hold in pledge for the return of
her stole, for I wished to test the matter unarmed, and, if it was a man
that sat upon the throne, to attack him with hands bare, as I supposed
his must be, I made my way through the crowd to the front, while the
singing yet continued, desirous of reaching the platform while it was
unoccupied by any of the priests. I was permitted to walk up the long
avenue of white robes unmolested, though I saw questioning looks in many
of the faces as I passed. I presume my coolness aided my passage; for
I felt quite indifferent as to my own fate; not feeling, after the
late events of my history, that I was at all worth taking care of; and
enjoying, perhaps, something of an evil satisfaction, in the revenge
I was thus taking upon the self which had fooled me so long. When I
arrived on the platform, the song had just ceased, and I felt as if all
were looking towards me. But instead of kneeling at its foot, I walked
right up the stairs to the throne, laid hold of a great wooden image
that seemed to sit upon it, and tried to hurl it from its seat. In this
I failed at first, for I found it firmly fixed. But in dread lest, the
first shock of amazement passing away, the guards would rush upon me
before I had effected my purpose, I strained with all my might; and,
with a noise as of the cracking, and breaking, and tearing of rotten
wood, something gave way, and I hurled the image down the steps. Its
displacement revealed a great hole in the throne, like the hollow of a
decayed tree, going down apparently a great way. But I had no time to
examine it, for, as I looked into it, up out of it rushed a great brute,
like a wolf, but twice the size, and tumbled me headlong with itself,
down the steps of the throne. As we fell, however, I caught it by the
throat, and the moment we reached the platform, a struggle commenced, in
which I soon got uppermost, with my hand upon its throat, and knee upon
its heart. But now arose a wild cry of wrath and revenge and rescue.
A universal hiss of steel, as every sword was swept from its scabbard,
seemed to tear the very air in shreds. I heard the rush of hundreds
towards the platform on which I knelt. I only tightened my grasp of the
brute's throat. His eyes were already starting from his head, and his
tongue was hanging out. My anxious hope was, that, even after they had
killed me, they would be unable to undo my gripe of his throat, before
the monster was past breathing. I therefore threw all my will, and
force, and purpose, into the grasping hand. I remember no blow. A
faintness came over me, and my consciousness departed.</p>
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