Bride of the Mistletoe

Lane Allen James

Description

After an initial burst of literary popularity, Kentucky-born author James Lane Allen took an extended break from publishing. After the span of several years, he returned with the short novel Bride of the Mistletoe, which both reflected and diverged from his earlier work. Though also a romance of sorts, the tale is shot through with myth and steeped in symbolism, adding weight and gravity to what otherwise might be a light diversion.

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 février 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776530854
• Langue: English

Extrait

BRIDE OF THE MISTLETOE
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JAMES LANE ALLEN
 
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Bride of the Mistletoe First published in 1909 Epub ISBN 978-1-77653-085-4 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77653-086-1 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Preface Earth Shield and Earth Festival I - The Man and the Secret II - The Tree and the Sunset III - The Lighting of the Candles IV - The Wandering Tale V - The Room of the Silences VI - The White Dawn
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To One Who Knows
Je crois que pour produire il ne faut pas trop raissoner. Mais ilfaut regarder beaucoup et songer à ce qu'on a vu. Voir: tout est là,et voir juste. J'entends, par voir juste, voir avec ses propres yeuxet non avec ceux des maîtres. L'originalité d'un artiste s'indiqued'abord dans les petites choses et non dans les grandes.
Il faut trouver aux choses une signification qui n'a pas encoredécouverte et tâcher de l'exprimer d'une façon personelle.
—GUY DE MAUPASSANT.
Preface
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Any one about to read this work of fiction might properly be apprisedbeforehand that it is not a novel: it has neither the structure northe purpose of The Novel.
It is a story. There are two characters—a middle-aged married coupleliving in a plain farmhouse; one point on the field of human nature islocated; at that point one subject is treated; in the treatment onemovement is directed toward one climax; no external event whatsoeveris introduced; and the time is about forty hours.
A second story of equal length, laid in the same house, is expected toappear within a twelvemonth. The same father and mother arecharacters, and the family friend the country doctor; butsubordinately all. The main story concerns itself with the fourchildren of the two households.
It is an American children's story:
"A Brood of The Eagle."
During the year a third work, not fiction, will be published,entitled:
"The Christmas Tree: An Interpretation."
The three works will serve to complete each other, and they complete acycle of the theme.
Earth Shield and Earth Festival
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A mighty table-land lies southward in a hardy region of our country.It has the form of a colossal Shield, lacking and broken in some ofits outlines and rough and rude of make. Nature forged it for somecrisis in her long warfare of time and change, made use of it, and soleft it lying as one of her ancient battle-pieces—Kentucky.
The great Shield is raised high out of the earth at one end and sunkdeep into it at the other. It is tilted away from the dawn toward thesunset. Where the western dip of it reposes on the planet, Nature,cunning artificer, set the stream of ocean flowing past with restlessfoam—the Father of Waters. Along the edge for a space she bound abright river to the rim of silver. And where the eastern part risesloftiest on the horizon, turned away from the reddening daybreak, shepiled shaggy mountains wooded with trees that loose their leaves eresnowflakes fly and with steadfast evergreens which hold to theirsthrough the gladdening and the saddening year. Then crosswise over themiddle of the Shield, northward and southward upon the breadth of it,covering the life-born rock of many thicknesses, she drew a tough skinof verdure—a broad strip of hide of the ever growing grass. Sheembossed noble forests on this greensward and under the forests drewclear waters.
This she did in a time of which we know nothing—uncharted ages beforeman had emerged from the deeps of ocean with eyes to wonder, thoughtsto wander, heart to love, and spirit to pray. Many a scene the samepower has wrought out upon the surface of the Shield since she broughthim forth and set him there: many an old one, many a new. She has madeit sometimes a Shield of war, sometimes a Shield of peace. Nor hasshe yet finished with its destinies as she has not yet finished withanything in the universe. While therefore she continues her will andpleasure elsewhere throughout creation, she does not forget theShield.
She likes sometimes to set upon it scenes which admonish man howlittle his lot has changed since Hephaistos wrought like scenes uponthe shield of Achilles, and Thetis of the silver feet sprang like afalcon from snowy Olympus bearing the glittering piece of armor to herangered son.
These are some of the scenes that were wrought on the shield ofAchilles and that to-day are spread over the Earth Shield Kentucky:
Espousals and marriage feasts and the blaze of lights as they lead thebride from her chamber, flutes and violins sounding merrily. Anassembly-place where the people are gathered, a strife having arisenabout the blood-price of a man slain; the old lawyers stand up oneafter another and make their tangled arguments in turn. Soft, freshlyploughed fields where ploughmen drive their teams to and fro, theearth growing dark behind the share. The estate of a landowner wherelaborers are reaping; some armfuls the binders are binding withtwisted bands of straw: among them the farmer is standing in silence,leaning on his staff, rejoicing in his heart. Vineyards with purplingclusters and happy folk gathering these in plaited baskets on sunnyafternoons. A herd of cattle with incurved horns hurrying from thestable to the woods where there is running water and wherepurple-topped weeds bend above the sleek grass. A fair glen with whitesheep. A dancing-place under the trees; girls and young men dancing,their fingers on one another's wrists: a great company stands watchingthe lovely dance of joy.
Such pageants appeared on the shield of Achilles as art; as pageantsof life they appear on the Earth Shield Kentucky. The metal-worker ofold wrought them upon the armor of the Greek warrior in tin andsilver, bronze and gold. The world-designer sets them to-day on thethrobbing land in nerve and blood, toil and delight and passion. Butthere with the old things she mingles new things, with the neverchanging the ever changing; for the old that remains always the newand the new that perpetually becomes old—these Nature allots to manas his two portions wherewith he must abide steadfast in what he isand go upward or go downward through all that he is to become.
But of the many scenes which she in our time sets forth upon thestately grassy Shield there is a single spectacle that she spreadsover the length and breadth of it once every year now as best liked bythe entire people; and this is both old and new.
It is old because it contains man's faith in his immortality, whichwas venerable with age before the shield of Achilles ever greweffulgent before the sightless orbs of Homer. It is new because itcontains those latest hopes and reasons for this faith, which brieflyblossom out upon the primitive stock with the altering years and soonare blown away upon the winds of change. Since this spectacle, thisfestival, is thus old and is thus new and thus enwraps the deepestthing in the human spirit, it is never forgotten.
When in vernal days any one turns a furrow or sows in the teeth of thewind and glances at the fickle sky; when under the summer shade of aflowering tree any one looks out upon his fatted herds and fatteninggrain; whether there is autumnal plenty in his barn or autumnalemptiness, autumnal peace in his breast or autumnal strife,—all daysof the year, in the assembly-place, in the dancing-place, whatsoeverof good or ill befall in mind or hand, never does one forget.
When nights are darkest and days most dark; when the sun seemsfarthest from the planet and cheers it with lowest heat; when thefields lie shorn between harvest-time and seed-time and man turnswistful eyes back and forth between the mystery of his origin and themystery of his end,—then comes the great pageant of the wintersolstice, then comes Christmas.
So what is Christmas? And what for centuries has it been to differingbut always identical mortals?
It was once the old pagan festival of dead Nature. It was once the oldpagan festival of the reappearing sun. It was the pagan festival whenthe hands of labor took their rest and hunger took its fill. It wasthe pagan festival to honor the descent of the fabled inhabitants ofan upper world upon the earth, their commerce with common flesh, andthe production of a race of divine-and-human half-breeds. It is nowthe festival of the Immortal Child appearing in the midst of mortalchildren. It is now the new festival of man's remembrance of hiserrors and his charity toward erring neighbors. It has latterly becomethe widening festival of universal brotherhood with succor for allneed and nighness to all suffering; of good will warring against illwill and of peace warring upon war.
And thus for all who have anywhere come to know it, Christmas is thefestival of the better worldly self. But better than worldliness, itis on the Shield to-day what it essentially has been through many anage to many people—the symbolic Earth Festival of the Evergreen;setting forth man's pathetic love of youth—of his own youth that willnot stay with him; and renewing his faith in a destiny that winds itsancient way upward out of dark and damp toward Eternal Light.
This is a story of the Earth Festival on the Earth Shield.
I - The Man and the Secret
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A man sat writing near a window of an old house out in the country afew years ago; it was afternoon of the twenty-third of December.
One of the volumes of a work on American Forestry lay open on the desknear his right hand; and as he sometimes stopped in his writing andturned the leaves, the illustrations showed that the