There was a law in the city of Athens, which gave to its citizens the
power of compelling their daughters to marry whomsoever they pleased;
for upon a daughter’s refusing to marry the man her father had chosen
to be her husband, the father was empowered by this law to cause her to
be put to death; but as fathers do not often desire the death of their
own daughters, even though they do happen to prove a little refractory,
this law was seldom or never put into execution, though perhaps the
young ladies of that city were not unfrequently threatened by their
parents with the terrors of it.
There was one instance, however, of an old man, whose name was Egeus,
who actually did come before Theseus (at that time the reigning duke of
Athens), to complain that his daughter Hermia, whom he had commanded
to marry Demetrius, a young man of a noble Athenian family, refused to
obey him, because she loved another young Athenian, named Lysander.
Egeus demanded justice of Theseus, and desired that this cruel law
might be put in force against his daughter.
Hermia pleaded in excuse for her disobedience, that Demetrius had
formerly professed love for her dear friend Helena, and that Helena
loved Demetrius to distraction; but this honorable reason, which Hermia
gave for not obeying her father’s command, moved not the stern Egeus.
Theseus, though a great and merciful prince, had no power to alter the
laws of his country; therefore he could only give Hermia four days to
consider of it, and at the end of that time, if she still refused to
marry Demetrius, she was to be put to death.
When Hermia was dismissed from the presence of the duke, she went to
her lover Lysander, and told him the peril she was in, and that she
must either give up him and marry Demetrius, or lose her life in four
days.
Lysander was in great affliction at hearing these evil tidings, but
recollecting that he had an aunt who lived at some distance from
Athens, and that at the place where she lived the cruel law could not
be put in force against Hermia (this law not extending beyond the
boundaries of the city), he proposed to Hermia that she should steal
out of her father’s house that night, and go with him to his aunt’s
house, where he would marry her. “I will meet you,” said Lysander, “in
the wood a few miles without the city; in that delightful wood, where
we have so often walked with Helena in the pleasant month of May.”
To this proposal Hermia joyfully agreed, and she told no one of her
intended flight but her friend Helena. Helena (as maidens will do
foolish things for love) very ungenerously resolved to go and tell
this to Demetrius, though she could hope no benefit from betraying
her friend’s secret, but the poor pleasure of following her faithless
lover to the wood; for she well knew that Demetrius would go thither in
pursuit of Hermia.
The wood in which Lysander and Hermia proposed to meet, was the
favorite haunt of those little beings known by the name of fairies.
Oberon, the king, and Titania, the queen of the fairies, with all their
tiny train of followers, in this wood held their midnight revels.
Between this little king and queen of sprites there happened at this
time a sad disagreement, they never met by moonlight in the shady
walks of this pleasant wood, but they were quarreling, till all their
fairy elves would creep into acorn-cups and hide themselves for fear.
The cause of this unhappy disagreement was Titania’s refusing to give
Oberon a little changeling boy, whose mother had been Titania’s friend;
and upon her death the fairy queen stole the child from its nurse, and
brought him up in the woods.
The night on which the lovers were to meet in this wood, as Titania was
walking with some of her maids of honor, she met Oberon attended by
his train of fairy courtiers. “Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,”
said the fairy king. The queen replied, “What, jealous Oberon, is it
you?” “Fairies, skip hence; I have forsworn his company.” “Tarry, rash
fairy,” said Oberon; “am not I thy lord? Why does Titania cross her
Oberon? Give me your little changeling boy to be my page.”
“Set your heart at rest,” answered the queen; “your whole fairy kingdom
buys not the boy of me.” She then left her lord in great anger.
“Well, go your way,” said Oberon; “before the morning: dawns I will
torment you for this injury.” Oberon then sent for Puck, his chief
favorite and privy counselor.
Puck (or, as he was sometimes called, Robin Goodfellow) was a shrewd
and knavish sprite, that used to play comical pranks in the neighboring
villages; sometimes getting into the dairies and skimming the milk,
sometimes plunging his light and airy form into the butter-churn, and
while he was dancing his fantastic shape in the vessel, in vain the
dairy-maid would labor to change her cream into butter: nor had the
village swains any better success; whenever Puck chose to play his
freaks in the brewing-copper, the ale was sure to be spoiled. When a
few good neighbors were met to drink some comfortable ale together,
Puck would jump into the bowl of ale in the likeness of a roasted
crab, and when some old goody was going to drink, he would bob against
her lips, and spill the ale over her withered chin; and presently
after, when the same old dame was gravely seating herself to tell her
neighbors a sad and melancholy story, Puck would slip her three-legged
stool from under her, and down toppled the poor old woman, and then the
gossips would hold their sides and laugh at her, and swear they never
wasted a merrier hour.
“Come hither, Puck,” said Oberon to this little merry wanderer of the
night; “fetch me the flower which maids call Love in Idleness; the
juice of that little purple flower, laid on the eye-lids of those who
sleep, will make them, when they awake, doat on the first thing they
see. Some of the juice of that flower I will drop on the eyelids of my
Titania, when she is asleep; and the first thing she looks upon when
she opens her eyes, she will fall in love with, even though it be a
lion, or a bear, a meddling monkey, or a busy ape: and before I will
take this charm from off her sight, which I can do with another charm I
know of, I will make her give me that boy to be my page.”
Puck, who loved mischief to his heart, was highly diverted with this
intended frolic of his master, and ran to seek the flower; and while
Oberon was waiting the return of Puck, he observed Demetrius and
Helena enter the woods; he overheard Demetrius reproaching Helena for
following him, and after many unkind words on his part, and gentle
expostulations from Helena, reminding him of his former love, and
professions of true faith to her, he left her (as he said) to the mercy
of the wild beasts, and she ran after him as swiftly as she could.
The fairy king, who was always friendly to true lovers, felt great
compassion for Helena; and perhaps, as Lysander said they used to walk
by moonlight in this pleasant wood, Oberon might have seen Helena in
those happy times when she was beloved by Demetrius. However that might
be, when Puck returned with the little purple flower, Oberon said
to his favorite, “Take a part of the flower: there has been a sweet
Athenian lady here, who is in love with a disdainful youth; if you find
him sleeping, drop some of the love-juice in his eyes, but contrive to
do it when she is near him, that the first thing he sees when he awakes
may be this despised lady. You will know the man by the Athenian
garments which he wears.” Puck promised to manage this matter very
dexterously; and then Oberon went, unperceived by Titania, to her bower
where she was preparing to go to rest. Her fairy bower was a bank,
where grew wild thyme, cowslips, and sweet violets, under a canopy of
woodbine, musk-roses and eglantine. There Titania always slept some
part of the night; her coverlet the enamelled skin of a snake, which,
though a small mantle, was wide enough to wrap a fairy in.
He found Titania giving orders to her fairies, how they were to employ
themselves while she slept. “Some of you,” said her majesty, “must kill
cankers in the musk-rose buds, and some wage war with the bats for
their leathern wings, to make my small elves coats; and some of you
keep watch that the clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, come not near
me: but first sing me to sleep.” Then they began to sing this song:—
You spotted snakes with double tongue,
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
Newts and blind-worms do no wrong,
Come not near our Fairy Queen.
Philomel, with melody,
Sing in our sweet lullaby,
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby:
Never harm, nor spell, nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh;
So good night with lullaby.
When the fairies had sung their queen asleep with this pretty lullaby,
they left her, to perform the important services she had enjoined
them. Oberon then softly drew near his Titania, and dropt some of the
love-juice on her eye-lids, saying—
What thou seest when thou dost wake,
Do it for thy true-love take.
But to return to Hermia, who made her escape out of her father’s house
that night, to avoid the death she was doomed to for refusing to marry
Demetrius. When she entered the wood, she found her dear Lysander,
waiting for her, to conduct her to his aunt’s house; but before they
had passed half through the wood, Hermia was so much fatigued, that
Lysander, who was very careful of this dear lady, that had proved her
affection for him even by hazarding her life for his sake, persuaded
her to rest till morning on a bank of soft moss; and, lying down
himself on the ground at some little distance, they soon fell fast
asleep. Here they were found by Puck, who, seeing a handsome young
man asleep, and perceiving that his clothes were made in the Athenian
fashion, and that a pretty lady was sleeping near him, concluded that
this must be the Athenian maid and her disdainful lover, whom Oberon
had sent him to seek; and he naturally enough conjectured that, as they
were alone together, she must be the first thing he would see when he
awoke; so without more ado, he proceeded to pour some of the juice of
the little purple flower into his eyes. But it so fell out that Helena
came that way, and, instead of Hermia, was the first object Lysander
beheld when he opened his eyes; and, strange to relate, so powerful was
the love-charm, all his love for Hermia vanished away, and Lysander
fell in love with Helena.
Had he first seen Hermia when he awoke, the blunder Puck committed
would have been of no consequence, for he could not love that faithful
lady too well; but for poor Lysander to be forced by a fairy love-charm
to forget his own true Hermia, and to run after another lady, and leave
Hermia asleep quite alone in a wood at midnight, was a sad chance
indeed.
Thus this misfortune happened. Helena, as has been before related,
endeavored to keep pace with Demetrius when he ran away so rudely
from her; but she could not continue this unequal race long, men
being always better runners in a long race than ladies. Helena soon
lost sight of Demetrius; and as she was wandering about, dejected
and forlorn, she arrived at the place where Lysander was sleeping.
“Ah!” said she, “this is Lysander lying on the ground; is he dead or
asleep?” Then gently touching him, she said, “Good sir, if you are
alive, awake.” Upon this Lysander opened his eyes, and (the love-charm
beginning to work) immediately addressed her in terms of extravagant
love and admiration; telling her, she as much excelled Hermia in
beauty as a dove does a raven, and that he would run through fire
for her sweet sake; and many more such lover-like speeches. Helena,
knowing Lysander was her friend Hermia’s lover, and that he was
solemnly engaged to marry her, was in the utmost rage when she heard
herself addressed in this manner; for she thought (as well she might)
that Lysander was making a jest of her. “Oh!” said she, “why was I
born to be mocked and scorned by every one? Is it not enough, is it
not enough, young man, that I can never get a sweet look or a kind
word from Demetrius; but you, sir, must pretend, in this disdainful
manner, to court me? I thought, Lysander, you were a lord of more true
gentleness.” Saying these words in great anger, she ran away; and
Lysander followed her, quite forgetful of his own Hermia, who was still
asleep.
When Hermia awoke, she was in a sad fright at finding herself alone.
She wandered about the wood, not knowing what was become of Lysander,
or which way to go to seek for him. In the meantime Demetrius, not
being able to find Hermia and his rival Lysander, and fatigued with
his fruitless search, was observed by Oberon fast asleep. Oberon had
learnt, by some questions he had asked of Puck, that he had applied
the love-charm to the wrong person’s eyes; and now, having found the
person first intended, he touched the eyelids of the sleeping Demetrius
with the love-juice, and he instantly awoke; and the first thing he saw
being Helena, he, as Lysander had done before, began to address love
speeches to her; and just at that moment Lysander, followed by Hermia
(for, through Puck’s unlucky mistake, it was now become Hermia’s turn
to run after her lover), made his appearance; and then Lysander and
Demetrius, both speaking together, made love to Helena, they being each
one under the influence of the same potent charm.
The astonished Helena thought that Demetrius, Lysander, and her once
dear friend Hermia, were all in a plot together to make a jest of her.
Hermia was as much surprised as Helena; she knew not why Lysander and
Demetrius, who both before loved her, were now become the lovers of
Helena; and to Hermia the matter seemed to be no jest.
The ladies, who before had always been the dearest of friends, now fell
to high words together.
“Unkind Hermia,” said Helena, “it is you have set Lysander on, to vex
with mock praises; and your other lover, Demetrius, who used almost
to spurn me with his foot, have you not bid him call me goddess,
nymph, rare, precious, and celestial? He would not speak thus to me
whom he hates, if you did not set him on to make a jest of me. Unkind
Hermia, to join with men in scorning your poor friend. Have you forgot
our school-day friendship? How often, Hermia, have we two, sitting
on one cushion, both singing one song, with our needles working the
same flower, both on the same sampler wrought; growing up together in
fashion of a double cherry, scarcely seeming parted? Hermia, it is not
friendly in you, it is not maidenly, to join with men in scorning your
poor friend.”
“I am amazed at your passionate words,” said Hermia. “I scorn you not;
it seems you scorn me.”
“Ay, do,” returned Helena, “persevere; counterfeit serious looks, and
make mouths at me when I turn my back; then wink at each other, and
hold the sweet jest up. If you had any pity, grace, or manners, you
would not use me thus.”
While Helena and Hermia were speaking these angry words to each other,
Demetrius and Lysander left them, to fight together in the wood for
the love of Helena. When they found the gentlemen had left them, they
departed, and once more wandered weary in the wood in search of their
lovers.
As soon as they were gone, the king fairy, who with little Puck
had been listening to their quarrels, said to him, “This is your
negligence, Puck; or did you do this wilfully?” “Believe me, king of
shadows,” answered Puck, “it was a mistake; did not you tell me I
should know the man by his Athenian garments? However, I am not sorry
this has happened, for I think their jangling makes excellent sport.”
“You heard,” said Oberon, “that Demetrius and Lysander are gone to seek
a convenient place to fight in. I command you to overhang the night
with a thick fog, and lead these quarrelsome lovers so astray in the
dark, that they shall not be able to find each other. Counterfeit each
of their voices to the other, and with bitter taunts provoke them to
follow you, while they think it is their rival’s tongue they hear. See
you do this, till they are so weary they can go no farther; and when
you find they are asleep, drop the juice of this other flower into
Lysander’s eyes, and when he awakes he will forget his new love for
Helena, and return to his old passion for Hermia; and then the two fair
ladies may each one be happy with the man she loves, and they will
think all that has passed a vexatious dream. About this quickly, Puck;
and I will go and see what sweet love my Titania has found.”
Titania was still sleeping, and Oberon, seeing a clown near her, who
had lost his way in the wood, and was likewise asleep—“This fellow,”
said he, “shall be my Titania’s true-love;” and clapping an ass’s head
over the clown’s, it seemed to fit him as well as if it had grown upon
his own shoulders. Though Oberon fixed the ass’s head on very gently,
it awakened him, and rising up, unconscious of what Oberon had done to
him, he went toward the bower where the fairy queen slept.
“Ah! what angel is that I see!” said Titania, opening her eyes, and the
juice of the little purple flower beginning to take effect: “are you as
wise as you are beautiful?” “Why, mistress,” said the clown, “if I have
wit enough to find the way out of this wood, I have enough to serve my
turn.”
“Out of the wood do not desire to go,” said the enamored queen. “I am a
spirit of no common rate. I love you. Go with me, and I will give you
fairies to attend upon you.” She then called four of her fairies: their
names were Pease-blossom, Cobweb, Moth, and Mustard-seed. “Attend,”
said the queen, “upon this sweet gentleman; hop in his walks, and
gambol in his sight; feed him with grapes and apricots, and steal for
him the honey-bags from the bees. Come sit with me,” she said to the
clown, “and let me play with your amiable hairy cheeks, my beautiful
ass; and kiss your fair large ears, my gentle joy!”
“Where is Pease-blossom?” said the ass-headed clown, not much regarding
the fairy queen’s courtship, but very proud of his new attendants.
“Here, sir,” said little Pease-blossom.
“Scratch my head,” said the clown. “Where is Cobweb?” “Here, sir,” said
Cobweb. “Good Mr. Cobweb,” said the foolish clown, “kill me the red
humble-bee on the top of that thistle yonder; and, good Mr. Cobweb,
bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action,
Mr. Cobweb, and take care the honey-bags break not; I should be sorry
to have you overflown with a honey-bag. Where is Mustard-seed?”
“Here, sir,” said Mustard-seed; “what is your will?”
“Nothing,” said the clown, “but to help Mr. Pease-blossom to scratch;
I must go to a barber’s, Mr. Mustard-seed, for methinks I am marvelous
hairy about the face.”
“My sweet love,” said the queen; “what will you have to eat? I have a
venturous fairy shall seek the squirrel’s hoard, and fetch you some new
nuts.” “I had rather have a handful of dried peas,” said the clown, who
with his ass’s head had got an ass’s appetite. “But, I pray, let none
of your people disturb me, for I have a mind to sleep.”
“Sleep, then,” said the queen, “and I will wind you in my arms. O how I
love you! how I dote upon you!”
When the fairy king saw the clown sleeping in the arms of his queen,
he advanced within her sight, and reproached her with having lavished
her favors upon an ass. This she could not deny, as the clown was then
sleeping within her arms, with his ass’s head crowned by her with
flowers. When Oberon had teased her for some time, he again demanded
the changeling boy; which she, ashamed of being discovered by her lord
with her new favorite, did not dare to refuse him.
Oberon, having thus obtained the little boy he had so long wished for
to be his page, took pity on the disgraceful situation into which,
by his merry contrivance, he had brought his Titania, and threw some
of the juice of the other flower into her eyes; and the fairy queen
immediately recovered her senses, and wondered at her late dotage,
saying how she now loathed the sight of the strange monster. Oberon
likewise took the ass’s head from off the clown, and left him to finish
his nap with his own fool’s head upon his shoulders. Oberon and his
Titania being now perfectly reconciled, he related to her the history
of the lovers, and their midnight quarrels; and she agreed to go with
him, and see the end of their adventures.
The fairy king and queen found the lovers and their fair ladies at no
great distance from each other, sleeping on a grass plot; for Puck, to
make amends for his former mistake, had contrived to bring them all to
the same spot, unknown to each other; and he had removed the charm from
off the eyes of Lysander with the antidote the fairy king gave to him.
Hermia first awoke, and finding her lost Lysander asleep so near her,
was looking at him, and wondering at his strange inconstancy. Lysander
presently opening his eyes, and seeing his dear Hermia, recovered his
reason, which the fairy-charm had before clouded, and with his reason,
his love for Hermia; and they began to talk over the adventures of the
night, doubting if these things had really happened, or if they had
both been dreaming the same bewildering dream.
Helena and Demetrius were by this time awake; and a sweet sleep having
quieted Helena’s disturbed and angry spirits, she listened with delight
to the professions of love which Demetrius still made to her, and
which, to her surprise as well as pleasure, she began to perceive were
sincere.
These fair night-wandering ladies, now no longer rivals, became
once more true friends; all the unkind words which had passed were
forgiven, and they calmly consulted together what was best to be done
in their present situation. It was soon agreed that, as Demetrius had
given up his pretensions to Hermia, she should endeavor to prevail
upon her father to revoke the cruel sentence of death which had been
passed against her. Demetrius was preparing to return to Athens for
this friendly purpose, when they were surprised with the sight of
Egeus, Hermia’s father, who came to the wood in pursuit of his runaway
daughter.
When Egeus understood that Demetrius would not now marry his daughter,
he no longer opposed her marriage with Lysander, but gave his consent
that they should be wedded on the fourth day from that time, being
the same day on which Hermia had been condemned to lose her life; and
on that same day Helena joyfully agreed to marry her beloved and now
faithful Demetrius.
The fairy king and queen, who were invisible spectators of this
reconciliation, and now saw the happy ending of the lovers’ history
brought about through the good offices of Oberon, received so much
pleasure, that these kind spirits resolved to celebrate the approaching
nuptials with sports and revels throughout their fairy kingdom.
And now, if any are offended with this story of fairies and their
pranks, as judging it incredible and strange, they have only to think
that they have been asleep and dreaming, and that all these adventures
were visions which they saw in their sleep: and I hope none of my
readers will be so unreasonable as to be offended with a pretty
harmless Midsummer Night’s Dream.