MOPSA THE FAIRY
by Jean Ingelow
Chosen by Gene Wolfe
The twentieth century is ending and the twenty-first beginning; and because of that, you may be tempted to read this as fin-de-siecle fantasy. Taking it so, you will find it stunning. "Was it really possible," you may ask yourself, "to write as wildly, as brutally, and as charmingly as this in 1900?" But you will be wrong about the date. A boy born when Jean Ingelow was writing "Mopsa" would have reached his thirties when The Wizard of Oz appeared. You will find much here that recalls Oz; you will also find the eeriness that L. Frank Baum set out to banish from his own fairyland. (He was thirteen when "Mopsa" was issued, and it must have frightened him.) In that quality, Neil Gaiman's Stardust comes closest to "Mopsa"; but Gaiman is writing for adults.
Every authority has called "Mopsa" feminist. It is not. Ingelow was writing for boys as single-mindedly as Baum ever wrote for girls; but Ingelow dared answer a question that no other such writer has even dared ask: If there really were a fairy princess, what would she be like?
Gene Wolfe
CHAPTER ONE
Above the Clouds
A boy, whom I knew very well, was once going through a meadow which was full of buttercups. The nurse and his baby sister were with him; and when they got to an old hawthorn, which grew in the hedge and was covered with blossom, they all sat down in its shade, and the nurse took out three slices of plum cake, gave one to each of the children and kept one for herself.
While the boy was eating he observed that this hedge was very high and thick, and that there was a great hollow in the trunk of the old thorn tree, and he heard a twittering, as if there was a nest somewhere inside; so he thrust his head in, twisted himself round and looked up.
It was a very great thorn tree, and the hollow was so large that two or three boys could have stood upright in it; and when he got used to the dim light in that brown, still place, he saw that a good way above his head there was a nest rather a curious one too, for it was as large as a pair of blackbirds would have built and yet it was made of fine white wool and delicate bits of moss; in short, it was like a goldfinch's nest magnified three times.
Just then he thought he heard some little voices cry, "Jack! Jack!" His baby sister was asleep, and the nurse was reading a story book, so it could not have been either of them who called. "I must get in here," said the boy. "I wish this hole was larger." So he began to wriggle and twist himself through, and just as he pulled in his last foot he looked up, and three heads which had been peeping over the edge of the nest suddenly popped down again.
"Those heads had no beaks, I am sure," said Jack, and he stood on tiptoe and poked in one of his fingers. "And the things have no feathers," he continued; so, the hollow being rather rugged, he managed to climb up and look in.
His eyes were not used yet to the dim light; but he was sure those things were not birds no. He poked them, and they took no notice; but when he snatched one of them out of the nest it gave a loud squeak, and said: "Oh, don't, Jack!" as plainly as possible, upon which he was so frightened that he lost his footing, dropped the thing and slipped down himself. Luckily he was not hurt, nor the thing either; he could see it quite plainly now; it was creeping about like rather an old baby, and had on a little frock and pinafore.
"It's a fairy!" exclaimed Jack to himself. "How curious! and this must be a fairy's nest. Oh, how angry the old mother will be if this little thing creeps away and gets out of the hole!" So he looked down. "Oh, the hole is on the other side," he said; and he turned round, but the hole was not on the other side; it was not on any side; it must have closed up all on a sudden, while he was looking into the nest, for, look whichever way he would, there was no hole at all, excepting a very little one high up over the nest, which let in a very small sunbeam.
Jack was very much astonished, but he went on eating his cake, and was so delighted to see the young fairy climb up the side of the hollow and scramble again into her nest that he laughed heartily; upon which all the nestlings popped up their heads and, showing their pretty white teeth, pointed at the slice of cake.
"Well," said Jack, "I may have to stay inside here for a long time, and I have nothing to eat but this cake; however, your mouths are very small, so you shall have a piece"; and he broke off a small piece and put it into the nest, climbing up to see them eat it.
These young fairies were a long time dividing and munching the cake, and before they had finished it began to be rather dark, for a black cloud came over and covered the little sunbeam. At the same time the wind rose and rocked the boughs, and made the old tree creak and tremble. Then there was thunder and rain, and the little fairies were so frightened that they got out of the nest and crept into Jack's pockets. One got into each waistcoat pocket, and the other two were very comfortable, for he took out his handkerchief and made room for them in the pocket of his jacket.
It got darker and darker, till at last Jack could only just see the hole, and it seemed to be a very long way off. Every time he looked at it, it was farther off, and at last he saw a thin crescent moon shining through it.
"I am sure it cannot be night yet," he said; and he took out one of the fattest of the young fairies and held it up towards the hole.
"Look at that," said he; "what is to be done now? The hole is so far off that it's night up there, and down here I haven't done eating my lunch."
"Well," answered the young fairy, "then why don't you whistle?"
Jack was surprised to hear her speak in this sensible manner, and in the light of the moon he looked at her very attentively.
"When first I saw you in the nest," said he, "you had a pinafore on, and now you have a smart little apron, with lace round it."
"That is because I am much older now," said the fairy; "we never take such a long time to grow up as you do."
"But your pinafore?" said Jack.
"Turned into an apron, of course," replied the fairy, "just as your velvet jacket will turn into a tail-coat when you are old enough."
"It won't," said Jack.
"Yes, it will," answered the fairy, with an air of superior wisdom. "Don't argue with me; I am older now than you are nearly grown up in fact. Put me into your pocket again, and whistle as loudly as you can."
Jack laughed, put her in, and pulled out another. "Worse and worse," he said; "why, this was a boy fairy, and now he has a moustache and a sword, and looks as fierce as possible!"
"I think I heard my sister tell you to whistle?" said this fairy very sternly.
"Yes, she did," said Jack. "Well, I suppose I had better do it." So he whistled very loudly indeed.