The Firelight Fairy Book Part 1

The Firelight Fairy Book.

by Henry Beston.

FOREWORD

THE a.s.sISTANT SECRETARY OF THE NAVY WASHINGTON, September 7. 1922

DEAR HENRY:--

"Grown-ups" arrogate entirely too much to themselves. I know this is so.

I discovered it for a fact when I was not more than "knee-high to a gra.s.shopper" myself. I knew, for example, that a certain amount of dirt on my face and hands in no way interfered with my enjoyment of my supper. The fact that my finger nails were not all they should have been had no bearing whatsoever upon the efficiency of those same fingers.

Washing not only took time from other important pursuits, but also was mildly unpleasant. Nevertheless, my mother was not even open to reasonable argument on the matter. Arbitrarily, with the despotism of an early Roman Emperor, she rendered a dictum to the effect that I must wash, and soapy and submissive I had to be before I could come to the table. Again, any reasonable child can tell you that pleasure is the main object of eating; therefore, in all logic, one should eat if one feels like it at ten o'clock in the morning, or at three o'clock in the afternoon, a jar of Guava jelly, a pound of chocolates, a paper of ginger cookies, or whatever may appeal to one's aesthetic taste. This method of procedure, naturally, might necessitate recourse to the brown-wood family medicine closet. Certain discomfort might ensue. But was not the pleasure worth it? Again my mother arbitrarily took the matter into her own hands, disagreeing with me on fundamentals. She maintained that eating was not for pleasure simply, but for nourishment.

Sundry unfortunate remarks were made containing references to gluttony.

The pantry was locked, and regular meals at regular periods were prescribed. Indeed, poems with dreadful morals for those who ate between meals were recited to me, endeavor being made thereby to subst.i.tute terror for inclination.

Any reasonable child will find many such parallel instances of the a.s.sumed omnipotence of "grownups." With this awful indictment before me, you ask me, a "grown-up," to write an introduction for the "Firelight Fairy Book," and thereby to a.s.sume the responsibility for pa.s.sing judgment upon it. There is but one circ.u.mstance that makes me willing to do so. I believe that where any nice "grown-up" is concerned, if you crack the hard outside sh.e.l.l with which circ.u.mstances have surrounded him, beneath it you will find a child. Banking on this, I venture to say that I thoroughly enjoyed the "Firelight Fairy Book." I liked particularly the story of the poor little prince, whose sneezing had such a disastrous effect; and the lost half hour is unquestionably an accurate historical account, because no one could have described so accurately, simply from imagination, what a lost temper looked like.

What makes me even more willing to advance my opinion is that I do not stand alone. My conclusions are supported by a jury of my peers, for I have given the book as a Christmas gift, not only to my own children, but to other people's children, and to one of the prominent Senators of the United States. They have universally acclaimed it, and who can question the judgment of such a jury?

Good luck to the "Firelight Fairy Book." May it, like Scrooge's laugh in the "Christmas Carol," "be the father of a long, long line of brilliant"

books of a like nature for the enjoyment of all true children, whether they be still at day school, or sitting in the high places of the world.

Believe me, Yours very truly, THEODORE ROOSEVELT

HENRY BESTON, ESQ.

Topsfield, Ma.s.s.

HOW THE NEW FAIRY TALES CAME TO BE WRITTEN

Some twenty years ago, in a pleasant old town by the sea, lived a lad who was very, very fond of fairy tales. When he had read all the fairy-books which his parents and his uncles and his cousins and his sisters and his aunts had been kind enough to give him, he turned to the town library and read every single fairy tale he could find mentioned in the catalogue. But there was an end even to this treasure; and, finally, a day came when the fairy-tale lover could find no new tales to read.

Every Christmas he would peek at the new books in the bookshops, only to find the same old stories printed, with new pictures, meant to please grown-ups. What could be the matter? Had the fairies all gone away, or locked the doors of Fairyland? Where, where, where were the new stories, and why, why, why did n't people write them?

Some years pa.s.sed. One pleasant summer day, as the fairy-tale lover sat reading a book beneath the low spreading branches of an oak tree, he heard a hum of wings, and looking up startled from his book, he discovered the Fairy Goldenwand standing close by.

"Are you still seeking new fairy tales?" said the Fairy Goldenwand.

"Yes," said the reader.

"Will you write them down if I tell you some really new ones?" said the Fairy.

"Oh yes, indeed," said the reader. "And I'll put them into a book; and next Sat.u.r.day Mr. Day, the artist, will come down; we shall have tea here under the oak tree,--do you like hot b.u.t.tered toast?--and you must tell him all about the fashions in Fairyland."

"Oh, that will be fine!" said the Fairy Goldenwand. "I knew you would n't mind my appearing so suddenly. Ever so many things have happened in Fairyland since the last books were written, and we all think it's a dreadful shame that children have n't heard about them. Just imagine boys and girls not knowing about the adventures of the Prince in Lantern Land! Shall I tell you the story?"

And that's the way the author heard about the Shepherd of Clouds, Florian, Marianna, Giles, Bobo, and all the other new friends. That you may long enjoy their adventures is the wish of

HENRY BESTON MAURICE E. DAY THE FAIRY GOLDENWAND

The Parson Capen Home Topsfield, Ma.s.sachusetts

THE QUEEN OF LANTERN LAND

Once upon a time the youngest son of a king became filled with the desire to go abroad and see the world. He got his father's permission to depart, kissed his parents good-bye, mounted his black horse, and galloped away down the high road. Soon the gray towers of the old castle in which he was born hid themselves behind him.

The Prince journeyed on, spending the days in traveling, and the nights in little wayside inns, till one day he found himself in the heart of the Adamant Mountains. The great, red granite crags of the surrounding peaks rose out of the gleaming snow like ugly fingers, and the slopes of giant glaciers sparkled in the sun like torrents of diamonds. The Prince sat down by some stunted trees whose tops had long before been broken off by an avalanche, and began to eat the bit of bread and cheese which he had stored in his pocket. His black horse, meanwhile, ate the gra.s.s which grew here and there along the mountain path. And as the Prince sat there in the bright sun and the silence of the mountains, he became aware of a low, continuous roaring.

"There must be a waterfall near-by," said the Prince to himself. "I'll go and see it."

So, casting another look at his steed, who was contentedly browsing, the Prince climbed up the mountainside in the direction of the sound.

The Prince climbed and climbed, he went in this direction and in that, yet the sound never grew any louder or fainter. Suddenly he realized that he was hopelessly lost. The little path up which he had ridden had vanished completely, and he had not the slightest idea in which direction it lay. He called aloud, but only the mountain echoes answered mockingly.

Night came, and the Prince took shelter behind a great rock. All the next day he labored to find the path, but in vain. He grew very hungry and cold. Every once in a while he would hear the roaring of the waterfall, which seemed to have grown louder.

Another day dawned, and another day again. The Prince was getting very weak. He knew that he was approaching the mysterious cataract, for the noise of the water was now tremendous, and heaven and earth were full of its roar. The third night came, and the full moon rose solemnly over the snow-clad summits of the lonely and mysterious mountains. Suddenly the Prince, walking blindly on, staggered through a narrow pa.s.sage-way between two splintered crags, and found himself face to face with the mystery.

He stood on the snowy floor of a vast amphitheatre whose walls were the steep sides of the giant mountains. Farthest away from him, and opposite the moon, the wall of the bowl appeared as a giant black precipice, whose top seemed to reach almost to the moon-dimmed stars; and over this precipice a broad river was endlessly pouring, shining in the night like the overflow of an ocean of molten silver. Though now very weak from lack of food, and dizzy with the roaring of the cataract, the Prince made his way to the sh.o.r.e of the foaming and eddying lake into which the water was falling. Great was his surprise to discover that the overflow of this lake disappeared into the earth through a long, low opening in the cliff behind the fall. Greater still was his surprise to see a strange many-colored light burning within the cave.

The Prince made his way toward the light, along a narrow beach of white sand lying between the wall of the cavern and the racing waters of the mysterious river, and found that the glow came from a magnificent lantern studded with emeralds, topazes, amethysts, and rubies, which hung by a chain from the roof of the grotto. Directly under this lantern, drawn up on the sand, lay a little boat with a lantern fastened to the bow. The Prince pushed the boat into the river, and got into it, and the swift current seized him and hurried him away.

At first the cavern grew higher and wider; then it shrank again, and the boat, borne along with incredible speed, shot down a rocky pa.s.sageway into the very heart of the earth. The pa.s.sageway broadened once more, and the boat rode gently through monstrous caves whose roofs were upheld by twisted columns taller than the tallest tree. There were times when all was so still that the Prince could easily have imagined himself back in the solitude of the mountains; there were times when the foaming and roaring of the underground river grew so deafening that the Prince feared lest he might be approaching the brink of a subterranean cataract.

Many hours pa.s.sed. The Prince did not know whether it was night or day.

At length, while the boat was gliding through a vast hall, he fell asleep. When he awoke, he found that the boat was floating on the black, gla.s.sy surface of an immense underground ocean. All signs of the cavern had disappeared. Far away, over the edge of this ocean, a strange, beautiful glow mounted into the starless sky of the underworld. And while the Prince was gazing at the glow, the boat swung into a new current, and was borne swiftly toward the light. In a short time the light grew so wide and bright that one would have believed that a strange, golden sun had risen. The boat pa.s.sed between two giant marble pillars supporting enormous crystal globes filled with a golden fire, and the Prince found himself in the harbor of Lantern Land.

A city lay before him, a strange golden city edging the sh.o.r.e of a vast, semi-circular bay. Because in the centre of the earth there is neither sun nor moon, the people have to be continually burning lights; and so many and so great were the lanterns of Lantern Land that the town was as bright as day. The edge of the harbor was marked with a row of golden lanterns; there were immense lanterns at every six paces along the streets; a lantern hung from every house; and the church-towers, instead of having bells in them, had great golden lamps which illumined everything for some distance about. Moreover, every inhabitant of Lantern Land carried a lantern with him wherever he went, the rich carrying golden lanterns set with transparent precious stones, the poor carrying lights of ordinary gla.s.s.

Soon the Prince saw a magnificent ship coming out to meet him. The prow was carved in the shape of a dragon's head, and a beautiful lantern hung from its jaws. Overcome by hunger and fatigue, the poor Prince fell insensible to the floor of his little boat. When he came to his senses again, he was lying between sheets of the whitest, most delicate linen in a great four-poster bed, in a room in the royal palace.

Thanks to his kind hosts, the Prince soon recovered his strength. When he was completely himself again, he was summoned to an audience with the Queen of Lantern Land.

The Queen, a very beautiful young woman, wearing a wonderful lantern crown, sat on an ebony throne. On each side of the throne stood a tall soldier, clad in scarlet and holding a long ebony staff surmounted by a round lantern lit by a golden flame.

The Prince dropped on his knee, and thanked the Queen for her kindness and hospitality.

"You are the first stranger to come to Lantern Land for a thousand years," said the young Queen. "If it is not asking too much from a guest, pray how did you happen to find the river of the underworld?"

So the Prince told her that he was a king's son, and described his adventures in the mountains. You may be sure the Queen was glad to hear of his royal birth, for she had fallen in love with him at first sight.

A month pa.s.sed. The Prince remained a guest in the palace. All kinds of festivities were given in his honor; there were wonderful dances, masquerades, picnics, and theatricals going on all the time. One day the Prince and the Queen, accompanied by a little group of courtiers, rode to the frontier of Lantern Land. The lovers galloped ahead of the party and reached a little hill beyond which there were no more lanterns.

Ahead of them the rolling land, sweeping farther and farther away from the light, grew darker and darker, till it finally plunged into the eternal night of the underworld.

The Prince looked at the Queen, and saw that she was weeping.