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CHTHONIC ASPECTS OF MACDONALD'S
PHANTASTES: FROM THE RISING OF THE GODDESS TO THE ANODOS
OF ANODOS
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Fernando Soto
The Herios was a woman's festival. Plutarch of
course could not be present at the secret ceremonies of the Thyaiades,
but his friend Thyia, their president, would tell him all a man
might know [. . .] From the rites known to him he promptly conjectured
that it was a "Bringing up of Semele." Semele, it is
acknowledged, is but a Thraco-Phrygian form of Gaia. The "Bringing
up of Semele" is but the Anodos of Gaia or of Kore the Earth
Maiden. It is the Return of the vegetation or Year-Spirit in the
spring.
Jane Harrison, Themis (416).
1 Introduction and General Backgrounds
Phantastes is one of the most mysterious
books George MacDonald wrote and one of the least understood books
in the English tradition. Since its publication in 1858, reviewers,
readers and researchers have experienced great difficulties understanding
the meaning of this complex work. The perceived impediments have
been so great that some scholars remain unsure whether Phantastes
contains a coherent plot or structure (Reis 87, 89, 93-94; Robb
85, 97; etc.). Other critics appear adamant that it contains neither
(Wolff 50; Manlove, Modern 55, 71, 77, 79; England
65, 93, 122). Even those scholars who sense a structure or perceive
a plot differ not only regarding the types of structure(s) and/or
plot(s) they acknowledge (Docherty 17-22; McGillis "Community"
51-63; Gunther "First Two" 32-42), but in deciding
into what, if any, genres or traditions Phantastes belongs
(Prickett, "Bildungsroman" 109-23; Docherty 19, 23, 30;
McGillis, "Femininity" 31-45; etc.). Therefore, although
progress towards an understanding of Phantastes may have
occurred, the incremental scholarly strides have been small. Moreover,
they have been wholly concerned with what are definedin the
adapted quotation from Fletcher which MacDonald appends to his titleas
"new habiliments." In effect, these habiliments have been
mistaken for the underlying myths, or, as will subsequently become
apparent, for the Goddess herself.
The absence of descriptive persuasive readings,
and the lack of agreement on the part of scholars, is not for want
of trying. Phantastes is MacDonald's first novel and likely
his most read and studied book for adults (Saintsbury 73; Robb 77).
In addition, thanks to C.S. Lewis's "discovery" of Phantastes
in 1916, and his later hyper-enthusiastic Christianised reading
of the book, it continues to attract the attention of numerous readers
and researchers. Many of these readers appear to want to experience
what the famous literary critic and Christian apologist extracted
from the book, get their imagination "baptised," and absorb
some of the important spiritual lessons he acquired from his "master"
(Lewis 20-21).
Much of the critical work devoted to Phantastes
has emerged from a Christian perspective and has centred on the
seductive idea that the work ought to be Christian and based on
a German Romantic tradition (Greville MacDonald 297-99; Reis 87;
Hein, xvi, xix, 55, 59, 73, 77, 80; Saintsbury 38; Prickett, "Bildungsroman"
109-24; etc.). Yet there appears to be little convincing evidence
for a Christian reading and no German work or tradition that is
easily accused of engendering Phantastes (Robb 79), despite
its allusions to various German Romantic texts. Thus, with the proliferation
of so many conflicting theories about the book's supposed, meanings,
structures, and antecedents, an aura of mystery continues to surround
this puzzling "Faerie Romance."
Notwithstanding the confusion surrounding MacDonald's
book, it is generally acknowledged that it contains references to
things Greek. The name given to the protagonist is Anodos (A
n o d
o V ), and
the significance of this word is generally thought to play a role
in the events, actions and plot of the story (Wolff 47; Hein 56;
Manlove, Impulse 77; Reis, 87; Docherty 20; Gunther, "First
Two" 32; Muirhead 37; etc.). As with other aspects of Phantastes,
however, there is little consensus regarding the ultimate significance
of the word. Three meanings are provided by scholars: "without
a path," "a way back" and "a journey upward."
With this choice of very general meanings, and the uncertainty of
researchers regarding the nature, aim, and literary antecedents
of Phantastes, no scholar appears to have yet grounded the
significance of this important Greek word within the story. If a
large part of MacDonald's enigmatic story is to be understood, the
Greek meanings of this word must be reviewed in their full historical
settings and contexts. The ancient meanings and historical uses
of the word "anodos," along with the Greek mythology
and religion involved with this word, prove central to an understanding
of the mysteries within Phantastes.
The word "Phantastes" is also Greek,
and its Greek meanings are helpful in understanding the story. It
means "one who makes a parade, a boaster" (Liddell &
Scott 1593). On the other hand it is closely related to the Greek
1) phantasia, 2) phanai, and 3) phanes. These respectively mean
1) "a showy appearance, show, display, parade";
2) "solemn torch-processions, such as took place
in the Bacchic orgies"; 3) "a mystic divinity in the Orphic
rites representing the first principle" (Liddell & Scott
1592). All of these meanings will be seen to play crucial roles
within Phantastes, while pointing towards the obscure significations
of further Greek names such as Isis. The German readings of Phantastes
have been so prevalent that the name Isis has been traced only to
Novalis and not to its origin in Greco-Egyptian mythology and religion.
Isis is the Greek rendition of the Egyptian "Aset" or
"Eset," whom the Greeks associated with the Earth-Mother
Goddess, with her many names of Demeter, Semele, and so on.
Nancy Willard and Nancy-Lou Patterson argue convincingly
for MacDonald's creative use of Greek Earth-Mother and Kore myths
in some of his books for children. The Grandmother of the Princess
books has been recognised as Isis by Hayward (29-33).The great majority
of At the Back of the North Wind relies upon direct and indirect
creative allusions and references to obscure and abstract Greek
mythology such as that associated with Homer's epics, with
Herodotus's writings on the Hyperboreans, with Boreas the north-wind,
and so on (Soto, in press). In Lilith the central character
Adam obliquely associates his wife with Gaia and himself with Gaia's
husband Uranus (Docherty 371). He is perceived by the protagonist
Vane as progressing through a series of metamorphoses, from Raven
to Father, reminiscent of the stages of Near-Eastern Mystery rites,
where the first and last stages were named respectively "Raven"
and "Father" (370-71). In Phantastes too, MacDonald
utilises extremely artistic readings of the deeply symbolic Mother
and Kore (Greek: "maiden") myths and the religious ideas
and spiritual concepts these myths convey.
2 Mythologico-Religious Backgrounds
Eurydike, She of the wide way, is [. . .] but
the ordered form of Earth herself, in her cyclic movement of
life and death, her eternal wheel of palingenesia. She, the
young green Earth, has [. . .] her yearly Anodos, as Kore, as
Semele, as Eurydike. At first she rises of her own motion and
alone, as we have seen on many a vase painting. Later, when
the physical significance of her rising is no longer understood,
when patriarchy has supplanted matrilinear earth-worship, a
human and patrilinear motive is provided. She needs a son or
lover to fetch her up, to carry her down. So we get the rape
of Persephone by Hades [. . .] the descent of Dionysus to fetch
his mother Semele, and, latest and loveliest, the love story
of Orpheus and Eurydike.
Harrison, Themis (522-23).
The Greek word anodos historically described
certain sacred phenomena and a significant day of worship in ancient
Greek Mystery religions. (Harrison, Prolegomena 120-31, 276-85;
Themis xx, 292, 332, 416). As used above by Harrison, the
word "Anodos" (hereinafter anodos) signifies the
cyclic rising of the Earth Goddess(es)a process running parallel
to the yearly rising of vegetation in the spring. The ancients,
it seems, first saw this anodos reflected in the yearly awakening
and rising up of vegetation in the spring season after its sleep/death
in winter. As time progressed, most of the remaining natural forces
in this myth were anthropomorphised into the parallel stories of
particular goddesses, gods, and mortals going to and returning from
Hades. The relevant names of the main goddesses (Earth- or Mother-),
who share a similar identity and experience an anodos, are
Gaea (Gaia, Ge), Demeter, Kore (Persephone), Aphrodite, Euridike
(Eurydike, Euridice), Semele, Cybele, Pandora, Magna Mater, and
so on.
The most well-known death and rebirth myth of ancient
Greece is likely that concerned with the Rape of Persephone. In
this myth, Hades the god of death and the underworld, kidnaps Demeter's
daughter Persephone as she gathers flowers. Hades then proceeds
to violently drag "The Maid" to his underground kingdom
of shades/ shadows. Demeter, the foremost ancient Greek goddess
of vegetation, begins a long search for her lost "offspring,"
and thus ignores her duties. Nothing grows during this long search
and all of earthly and Olympian life is in perilbecause humans
reap no crops, the gods receive no sacrifices (Kerényi 238). Zeus
is called upon to rectify this dangerous situation and order is
restored when Hades is commanded to return Persephone to her mother.
However, due to the subterranean subterfuge of Persephone being
duped into eating some of the food of the underworld, she must return
to assume her place as Hades's wife for three to six months of each
year. This reflects the fact that Persephone, as the daughter of
Demeter, is directly associated with the life and death cycle of
the crops. Thus the myth of her yearly "rising" or "ascent"
(i.e. the anodos of Kore) mirrors the yearly rebirth of vegetation.
In this way, the Greeks came to conceptualise the yearly vegetative
cycle of growth, decay, death, and rebirth, and to mythologise it
within the Kore/Persephone tale and other similar stories and religious
practices.
In the Homeric, male-centred, highly hierarchical
era, death was perceived as a shadow-like existence for the majority
of people: the Elysian fields were reserved for the very few, the
"heroic" testosterone-driven warriors. It is believed
that as later Greek generations became agricultural, or as they
made contact with civilised, matriarchal peoples, they created or
encountered a more egalitarian (Democratic?) conception of the after-life.
It seems that, through foreign traditions and myths in addition
to their own developing customs and stories, the Greeks created
the Kore mytha myth that reflects the more ancient winter-spring,
death-life conceptions. Ancient peoples connected these myths with
the future rising of their spirits from the dead matter of their
bodiesin a similar fashion as the "dead" seeds planted
in the fall sprout in the spring, as the trees put out leaves, and
as the Kore rises from the kingdom of death. This mythology, then,
represents not only the yearly vegetative cycle of life and death,
but also the awakening of the Goddess alongside her "dead"
devotees. Thus the word "anodos" describes the
yearly rising of vegetation and the seasonal awakening and arising
of a whole host of chthonic "vegetative" goddesses, gods,
and mortals from the underground kingdom of the dead. In Mystery
religions, moreover, this crucial "rising" also came to
symbolise the anodos of purified humans after their initiatory
death.
MacDonald, like most people interested in ancient
Greek history and culture, likely realised that once the ancient
Greeks began consciously to desire an after-life partaking of more
than a mere shadow-existence they began to fill this spiritual void
by taking up and developing the Mystery religions.
Knowledge of these religions is difficult to obtain
from the usual historical sources because of the ancient reverence
given to their rites, and the associated dire penalties usually
death in this life and the nextimposed upon those who divulged
them. But some of this occult information is ascertainable from
short, carefully worded ancient written sources and from the depictions
of the Goddesses's ascent on what today are called the "Anodos-type
vases."
Possibly the best sources for the study of Greek
Mystery religions are Plutarch's Isis and Osiris, and Jane
Harrison's Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion and
Themis. Harrison's books were published years after Phantastes,
but the majority of her evidence is gathered from ancient written
sources and from statues, friezes, and pottery widely available
for study in museums. Thus MacDonald, who was deeply interested
in those aspects of social history which "bordered on the interests
of literature and the history of religious development" (quote
in Greville MacDonald 518), and who was likely to have been well-read
in Plutarch, Herodotus, Homer and other Greek "religious"
writers, probably had access to much of the verbal and graphic information
available to Harrison.
3 The Anodos of the Goddess(es) in Phantastes
Some of the dark closes & entries
look most infernal, and in the dim light you could see something
swarming, children or grown people perhaps, almost falling away
from the outlined definiteness of the human. [. . .] Dearest,
you must come here with me, you would be so interested. It is
like no other place[. . .] You know Edinburgh is built very
much up and down hill; and so in some places narrow closes,
some so narrow that your little arms could touch both sides,
run from top to bottom of the hill through these great, tall
houses. Glancing down one of these I was arrested. It was very
narrow and went down, as if to Erebus, and suggested bad and
dangerous places, down into the unseen and unknown depths. But
across the upper part was barred the liquid hues of the sunset,
against which stood the far off hill with some church tower
or something of the sort in relief against the infinite clearness.
[. . .] Dearest, I hope you will not be frightened tonight.
God, the Sky Godthe Green Earth God be with you; our
own God, as David says.
Letter from MacDonald to his wife, 1855, in Sadler
87-88.
From the beginning of Phantastes, the reader
is reminded of the Greek nature of the book. A search for MacDonald's
first direct references to ancient myths related to the rising of
the Goddess, or anodos of the Grand Mother (i.e. his "Magna"
Mater), starts with a close examination of the quotation from Shelley's
"Alastor" which heads chapter 1. Shelley's poem includes
references to things Greek and Mystery religions which MacDonald
will use in Phantastes. A small sample of related references
from "Alastor" might include: "our great Mother";
"Thy shadow"; "the depth / Of thy deep mysteries";
"I have made my bed / In charnels and on coffins"; "unveil'd
thy inmost sanctuary"; "lyre"; "sculptured on
alabaster"; "marble dĉmons"; "mysterious halls
with floating shades"; "beneath the hollow rocks a natural
bower"; "he eagerly pursues / Beyond the realms of death
that fleeting shade"; "Does the dark gate of death / Conduct
to thy mysterious paradise"; "a little shallop floating
by the shore"; "A restless impulse urged him to embark
/ And meet lone death on the drear ocean's waste"; "embraces
the light beech"; "Birth and the grave [. . .] are not
as they were" (177-97).
Furthermore, the name Alastor leads towards other
obscure chthonic references:
ALASTOR [. . .] One of Pluto's horses when
he took away Proserpine (Lempriere 33).
Alastor [. . .] In mediaeval demonology, a
spirit of evil, the executor of the sentences of the king of
hell (Smith 28).
Before MacDonald's text is reached, the quotation
from "Alastor" sets the chthonic tone for the book, as
well as alluding to connections which not only link the poem to
Phantastes, but to ancient Greek mythology and Mystery religions,
particularly those associated with the rape of Persephone.
Within MacDonald's text there are obscure chthonic
references which continue the "mood" and "significance"
of Shelley's quotation and poem. Many of his first allusions may
be interpreted as referring to Greek Mystery religions:
As soon as I was left alone, I ordered lights
in the chamber where the secretary stood, the first lights that
had been there for many a year; for, since my father's death,
the room had been left undisturbed. But as if the darkness had
been too long an inmate to be easily expelled, and had dyed
with blackness the walls to which, bat-like, it had clung, these
tapers served but ill to light up the gloomy hangings, and seemed
to throw yet darker shadows into the hollows of the deep-wrought
cornice. All the further portions of the room lay shrouded in
a mystery whose deepest folds were gathered around the dark
oak cabinet which I now approached with a strange mingling of
reverence and curiosity (2).
Everythingfrom the dark secretary (derived
from the Latin secretarium, "a secret place"),
"shadows," the strange "reverence," and a "mystery,"
to the description of the darkness and shadows as "bat-like"is
reminiscent of Mystery religions and Greek myths (Kerényi 247).
References such as "the awe which was fast gathering around
me as if the dead were drawing near," along with the complex
setting something like a small opening between the upper and
lower worldsforeshadow the first anodos of a Goddess
in the story:
suddenly there stood on the threshold of the
little chamber, as though she had just emerged from its depth,
a tiny woman-form, as perfect in shape as if she had been a
small Greek statuette roused to life and motion. Her dress was
of a kind that could never grow old fashioned, because it was
simply natural: a robe plaited in a band around the neck, and
confined by a belt about the waist, descended to her feet (4).
The strange "dark" setting and descriptions,
the emergence of the "Greek statuette" from the chamber's
depths, allusions to a rousing to "life," and the details
of her dress allude to many of the well-known ancient chthonic Goddesses.
These Earth Goddesses were believed to emerge each spring from dark
chambers, though today they quietly reside in museums as marble
statues and statuettes. When this figure has become life-size, Anodos's
account gives further clues to her identity:
she stood a tall, gracious lady, with pale
face and large blue eyes. [. . .]
Overcome with the presence of a beauty which
I could now perceive, and drawn to her by an attraction irresistible
as incomprehensible, I suppose I stretched out my arms towards
her, for she drew back a step or two, and said
"Foolish boy, if you could touch me, I
should hurt you [. . .] a man must not fall in love with his
grandmother, you know" (6).
There is much that is helpful in the above descriptions
and chastisement. For instance, in a myth associated with the Great/Grand
Mother in the form of Cybele, the Goddess embraces her foolish grandson
and then hurts him. Here is part of the story of the Mother Goddess
Cybele and Attis:
When he grew into the perfection of young manhood,
Attis roused the passion of Cybele. She took him as her lover,
bearing him through the world in her lion-drawn chariot, engaging
him in ecstatic embraces. This wasn't enough for Attis, though,
and he foolishly turned his attentions to another woman. Because
his grandmother/lover was the earth itself, there was nowhere
that Attis could accomplish his infidelity without Cybele knowing.
He nonetheless tried; Cybele naturally surprised him at it,
and in punishment she drove him mad. In an anguish of contrition,
Attis tore from himself the cause of all the trouble and, castrated,
bled to death beneath a pine tree (Monaghan 85).
Thus Anodos's Grand-Mother, as Cybele, has previous
experience "embracing" and then punishing a foolish grandson/lover.
She knows very well that Anodos ought to keep his distance.
Anodos finds only two things in the "chamber"
from which the Goddess emerges: a packet of papers and "a little
heap of withered rose-leaves" (3). These rose-leaves at the
threshold between the under and upper worlds are particularly significant.
Roses are one of only two flowers mentioned by Pindar in regard
to the rites of the rising of the Goddess Semele (in Harrison, Themis
203, 418).
Following the introduction to his Grand Mother/grandmother,
Anodos continues to volunteer useful yet "mysterious"
information. For instance, he proceeds to describe "a sensation
of twilight, and reedy river banks [. . .] in this deathly room."
These references are reminiscent of Hades (Kerényi 245). It is interesting
also to note the connection between Anodos's dead mother, the rising
grandmother, and the dead yet vigorously sprouting vegetation in
his bedroom. Dionysus is probably the only God whose "mother
died when [he] was a baby" (7). His Greek name Bakhos means
"the shoot," a term used for sprouting vine tendrils (Kerényi
257). In one famous adventure he was kidnapped by pirates. As the
abductors would not let the God of wine and vegetation escape, he
made the ship in which he was being held begin to sprout ivy and
grape vines. Accompanying the outburst of vegetation, wild beasts
appeared and terrified or devoured most of the crew. No wild beasts
appear before Anodos hurriedly leaves his room, but both ivy and
the vine clematis begin to sprout from the wood of his furniture
in a very similar fashion to how it sprouted from the wood of the
pirate ship (11).
After leaving his room, Anodosnow likely
somewhere in Erebusis ready to proceed towards the underground
kingdom of shades; as he has foreshadowed with his numerous statements
regarding, death, mysteries, "the dead drawing near,"
his dead father and mother, and fanciful outbursts, such as: "Perhaps,
like a geologist, I was about to turn up to the light some of the
buried strata of the human world, with its fossil remains charred
by passion and petrified by tears" (2). This last curious description
points to more than merely a fanciful metaphor for an imaginative
excursion into his father's desk. Phantastes uses the findings
of excavations which had unearthed real "fossils"Manuscripts,
statues, pottery and so on. It is an imaginative, yet thorough,
literary mythic-religious underground adventure into the very heart
of ancient rituals and beliefs.
MacDonald makes sure to convey to the reader that
before Anodos experiences the next anodos of the Goddess
he must be aiming his steps towards the East (13, 26, 38, etc.).
It may be remembered that, for the Greeks, the idea of a resurrection
of the soul and the rites associated with the later Mysteriesthe
cults of Semele/Dionysus, Euridike/Orpheus, Cybele/Attis, Isis/Osiris,
etc.were understood to be Eastern or Oriental in origin and
nature.
Anodos crosses the rivulet flowing from his room,
reminiscent of the rivers surrounding the underworld, and penetrates
deep into a forest:
The trees, which were far apart where I entered,
[. . .] closed rapidly as I advanced, so that ere long their
crowded stems barred the sunlight out, forming as it were a
thick grating between me and the East. I seemed to be advancing
towards a second midnight. In the midst of the intervening twilight,
however, before I entered what appeared to be the darkest portion
of the forest, I saw a country maiden coming towards me from
its very depths. She did not seem to observe me, for she was
apparently intent upon a bunch of wild flowers which she carried
in her hand (13-14).
This Kore recalls Persephone, who could have been
described thus just before she was abducted, and also during her
anodos when, in her vegetative role, she "brings up"
the new plants. But the description surely also refers back to the
anodos of the Goddess in chapter 1. For instance, the "thick
grating" of tree branches mirrors on a larger scale the "portcullis
of small bars of wood laid close together" in the secretary.
The "second midnight" and "the maiden coming towards
me from its very depths" likewise point to a second anodos.
She too warns Anodos of his precarious situation, but then leaves
him.
Continuing on his way, Anodos soon "came to
a more open part, and by-and-by crossed a wide grassy glade, on
which were several circles of brighter green. But even here I was
struck by the utter stillness. No bird sang. No insect hummed. Not
a living creature crossed my way" (15). Awake in this deathlike
"darker" environment, he perceives human sleep from the
"other side":
Then I remembered that night is the fairies'
day [. . .] At the same time I, being a man and a child of the
day, felt some anxiety as to how I should fare among the elves
and other children of the night who wake when mortals dream,
and find their common life in those wondrous hours that flow
noiselessly over the moveless deathlike forms of men and women
and children, lying strewn and parted beneath the weight of
the heavy waves of night, which flow on and beat them down,
and hold them drowned and senseless, until the ebb-tide comes,
and the waves sink away, back into the ocean of the dark (15-16).
References to Persephone/Kore continue once Anodos
meets the maiden's mother. As might be expected, she mirrors Demeter:
I wondered at finding a human dwelling in this
neighbourhood; and yet it did not look altogether human [. .
.] Seeing no door, I went round to the other side, and there
I found one, wide open. A woman sat beside it, preparing some
vegetables for dinner. This was homely and comforting. As I
came near, she looked up, and seeing me, showed no surprise,
but bent her head again over her work, and said in a low tone
"Did you see my daughter?" (16-17).
In the myth of Persephone, Demeterafter her
daughter is taken by Hadesassumes the disguise of an old woman
and proceeds to take employment performing the work, such as food
preparation, common to old women of that epoch. And she continually
asks everyone she meets whether they have seen her daughter (Tripp
196).
The many references to Anodos walking in the kingdom
of death continue. The chthonic references to death become increasingly
prominent as the story unfolds, while Anodos continues to travel
East. After he leaves the old woman/Demeter he first begins to sense
directly the "shade-like" entities, so common to the ancient
accounts of Hades:
All this time, as I went through the wood,
I was haunted with the feeling that other shapes, more like
my own in size and mien, were moving about at a little distance
on all sides of me [. . .] I constantly imagined, however, that
forms were visible in all directions except that to which my
gaze was turned; and that they only became invisible, or resolved
themselves into other woodland shapes, the moment my looks were
directed towards them. However this may have been, except for
this feeling of presence, the woods seemed utterly bare of anything
like human companionship (37).
This is very similar to the descriptions of the
shades met by some of those who have travelled to Hades and back,
or who knew someone returned from the kingdom of the dead: (the
list includes Heracles, Odysseus, Orpheus, Aeneas, etc.).
In chapter 5, before the anodos of the Marble
lady and after the episode with a possible Aenean "golden bough""the
splendid flower of a parasite" (51)Anodos first begins
to see and describe the shades whose presence he had previously
intuited. "Now and then, too, a dim human figure would appear
and disappear, at some distance, amongst the trees, moving like
a sleep-walker. But no one ever came near me" (51). In this
instance Anodos appears to be unaware that the shades must be attracted
and revived with libations if they are to come near and communicate
with the living (Homer 168-69). But he eats of the Fairy food (something
very significant in Hades) and, like Persephone, becomes a type
of denizen of the underworld. With this new status, he is now more
clearly aware of his surroundings:
This day I found plenty of food in the foreststrange
nuts and fruits I had never seen before. I hesitated to eat
them; but argued that, if I could live on the air of Fairy Land,
I could live on its food also. I found my reasoning correct,
and the result was better than I had hoped; for it not only
satisfied my hunger, but operated in such a way upon my senses,
that I was brought into far more complete relationship with
the things around me. The human forms appeared much more dense
and defined; more tangibly visible, if I may say so (51-52).
Thus it appears that not only did the food have
an impact upon Anodos's senses, but also that the "sleep walkers,"
very much like the shades inhabiting Hades, were human forms after
all.
With all of this information in mind, let us begin
to examine directly the third anodos of the Goddess. The
setting is described at some length in chapter 5:
There were plenty of snakes, however, and I
do not think they were all harmless; but none ever bit me. [.
. .]
Soon after midday I arrived at a bare rocky
hill, of no great size, but very steep [. . .] On reaching the
top [. . .] my eye caught the appearance of a natural path
[. . .] when I reached the bottom [. . .] just
where the path seemed to end, rose a great rock, quite overgrown
with shrubs and creeping plants, some of them in full and splendid
blossom: these almost concealed an opening in the rock, into
which the path appeared to lead. [. . .] What was my delight
to find a rocky cell [. . .] with rich moss, and [. . .] lovely
ferns [. . .] A little well of the clearest water filled a mossy
hollow in one corner. I drank, and felt as if I knew what the
elixir of life must be; then threw myself on a mossy mound [.
. .] I had never imagined that such capacity for simple happiness
lay in me, as was now awakened [. . .] I became aware that my
eyes were fixed on a strange, time-worn bas-relief on the rock
opposite to me. This, after some pondering, I concluded to represent
Pygmalion, as he awaited the quickening of his statue (53-55).
Most of this description is of great importance
in regard to the rites of the Goddess. All these "disparate"
things (snakes, hills, caves, lush vegetation, a well, the elixir
of life, Greek myths, plus possibly the pigs of chapter 7) play
crucial roles in the Mystery rites which culminated in the anodos
of the Goddess. Here are two instances of such rites which may shed
further light on MacDonald's account:
The Thesmophoria, like the Anthesteria, was
a three-days' festival [. . .] the first day [. . .] was called
both Kathodos and Anodos, Downgoing and Uprising,
the second Nestia, Fasting, and the third Kalligeneia,
Fair-Born or Fair-Birth.
{. . .]According to the more mythical explanation
they are celebrated in that Kore when she was gathering flowers
was carried off by Plouton. At the time, a certain Euboleus,
a swineherd, was feeding his swine on the spot and they were
swallowed down with her in the chasm of Kore [. . .] And they
say that in and about the chasm are snakes (Harrison, Prolegomena
121-22).
Harrison also includes some insights regarding
the Greek word translated as "chasm" (i.e. megra,
m e g
a r a
, m a g
a r o
n ) in the above passage, and information
regarding a sacred well and a type of bas-relief:
Eustathius says that megara are "underground
dwellings of the two goddesses," i.e. Demeter and Persephone
[. . .] The word itself, meaning at first a cave-dwelling, lived
on in the megaron of king's palaces and the temples of
Olympian gods, and the shift of meaning marks the transition
from under to upper-world rites. [. . .]
Apollodorus, in recounting the sorrows of Demeter,
says: "and first she sat down on the stone that is called
after her Smileless by the side of the Well
of Fair Dances." The Well of Fair Dances
has come to light at Eleusis (125-28).
The above accounts of the setting for the anodos
by MacDonald and Harrison (via other easily available sources such
as Apollodorus) are much too similar to be unrelated. Furthermore,
since MacDonald studied Greek, he could make full use of the meanings
of the word megara: cave, palace or temple. Every anodos
of the Goddess recounted in Phantastes occurs in or near
a cave, palace or temple. It is difficult to know whether MacDonald
accessed the ancient objects available to Harrison and other scholars,
but in his studies he must have read accounts of the Mysteries in
question. From his reading of fairy tales he would also have known
that in such tales a well is often the gate to the underworld and
specifically to the domain of the Earth Mother (Neumann 48). As
mentioned above, much of Harrison's information and most literary
references regarding the anodos of the Goddess were available
to anyone who could read Greek and German, and was interested in
ancient Greek mythology, religion and culture.
Anodos interprets the bas-relief within the cave
in terms of the myth of Pygmalion, conveying to the reader that
Greek/Middle Eastern mythology is close at hand. He also continues
to ground the episode in further relevant Greek myths. As Anodos
is attempting to find a method to awaken the Marble lady, herself
reminiscent of the Greek statuette of chapter 1, he appears able
to recall a great number of similar "historical" events:
"Numberless histories passed through my mind of change of substance
from enchantment and other causes, and of imprisonments such as
this before me" (57). After mentioning several "histories"
which appear to have some aspects in common with the situation confronting
him, Anodos dismisses the story of Pygmalion and settles on exactly
the right Greek myth. The myth of Orpheus and Euridike, however,
does not, at first, appear to have as much in common with awakening
a marble lady. Anodos, after attempting to kiss the rock, begins
to perceive his predicament through the myth of Orpheus: "I
bethought me of Orpheus, and the following stones;that trees
should follow his music seemed nothing surprising now" (57).
This reading of the situation appears to occur for all the wrong
reasons. In the Orpheus myth it is charmed stones and trees that
follow the poet. The tradition does not mention these stones and
trees holding people or awakening into people. Furthermore, Anodos
does not at this time possess a lyre, and soon admits that he had
never been gifted with the power of song.
Anodos, however, does not appear to disclose everything
he knows regarding the myth of Orpheus: he merely implies that his
choice of reading his situation through this myth is grounded in
other obscure parts of the ancient story. This becomes apparent
when he claims that the Marble lady, unlike Galatea and the rocks
and trees, is "dead" (in a "pale coffin"); considers
the cave an "antenatal tomb" just as the ancients did
(Neumann 45); and proceeds from talking about the rocks and trees
following Orpheus to much more relevant myths concerning Orpheus's
voyage to Hades to rescue his dead wife. These other myths are alluded
to when Anodos, in the dark cave with the entrapped Marble lady,
considers: "Might not a song awake this form, that the glory
of motion might for a time displace the loveliness of rest?"
(57).
With this Orphic understanding of his situation,
Anodos breaks into songs: songs which continue to give references
to the "death of dreams," "primal death," and
so on. The first stanza of the third song is particularly important
because it provides a clue regarding the previously mentioned myths
associated with deaththose related to Persephone:
Or art thou Death, O woman? for since
I,
Have set me singing by thy side,
Life hath forsook the upper sky,
And all the outer world hath died (60).
This stanza recalls many chthonic references of
importance to the Kore myths. For example, Persephone is often described
as "Death" or Queen of Death" and it may be recalled
that while Demeter searched for her daughter, all vegetative and
animal life began to die, while the Olympians feared for their own
lives in the "upper sky."
Another method of interpreting the remaining supposedly
incongruous pieces of information presented by MacDonald is to review
where the Demeter/Persephone myths/rites crossed paths with, and
were influenced by, the more patriarchal myths of Orpheus and Euridike.
The latter myth keeps, in a general way to the following:
Orpheus married the naïad nymph Euridike. Shortly
after their marriage, she was chased by the amorous Aristaeüs,
and, in her eagerness to escape him, stepped on a snake and
was bitten. Orpheus mourned her death, then determined to bring
her back from Hades. Descending into the Underworld by way of
the entrance at Taenarum, he sang and played so movingly that
the spirits came in hordes to listen, the damned forgot their
labours for a moment, and even the cold hearts of Hades and
Persephone were melted. They granted Orpheus' plea that he be
allowed to take Euridike back with him, provided that he promise
not to look at her until the reached home. Orpheus led his wife
up to the entrance of the Underworld, then, overcome with fear
that she might not be following, turned to look. Euridike instantly
faded away to become once again only a shade. When Orpheus tried
to reenter Hades, his way was inexorably barred (Tripp 435).
Superficially this myth recalls Anodos's interesting
comments: about the snakes which he did not "think they were
all harmless," "bringing up" a woman from the dead
by singing, and so on. However, as the evolution and merging of
the Mystery religions of Persephone and the Orpheus myths are considered
further, many other links may be established between them and MacDonald's
complex book.
One of the methods by which those concerned with
securing a happy afterlife interpreted the Orpheus and Euridike
myth was by mixing the story of these lovers with the Persephone/Kore
spring myths. It was in matriarchal-like times in the region surrounding
the North Eastern and Eastern Mediterranean that the cults of the
Earth Mother were celebrated. As more patriarchal groups began to
conquer this area, many of the Goddess cults had to make room for
male divinities and heroes. At first these were tolerated so long
as they played a minor rolesuch as that of the baby or child.
Harrison succinctly outlines this process and final outcome, as
she reviews the anodos of two related Earth divinities:
Semele, Earth, never could or did go to heaven,
but she rose up out of the earth. She needed no son to bring
her, her son was indeed the fruits of the earth, the child Ploutos.
But when patriarchy came in, and the Mother takes the lower
place, someone has to "fetch her up" [. . .] There
is no one but her son to do all this. Later Orpheus as lover
"fetches up" Euridike, Earth, the "wide-ruler,"
the "broad-bosomed." He fails because she must perennially
return to Hades that she may rise again next spring (Themis
420).
This appears to be akin to the concepts MacDonald
utilised when he has Anodos recall the history of the anodos
of Eurydike, facilitated by Orpheus. This third rising/ awakening
in Phantastes of the Greek-statue-like lady, reviewed in
the light of the mythological knowledge provided by Harrison and
others, leaves little doubt that MacDonald studied and was heavily
influenced by these myths/rites. Furthermore, the evolutionary sequence
noted by Harrison may explain the first unaided risings of the Goddess
in chapters 1 and 2, Anodos helping her in chapter 5, and the role
of the mothering figures found throughout the book. The above information
also helps to explain why Anodos continually fluctuates between
the baby/child and prospective lover in Phantastes.
The similarities between the recorded rites of
the ancient Greeks and MacDonald's Faerie Romance do not stop at
the above general aspects of the two. Many of the individual peculiarities
of Anodos's adventures with his Marble lady can be explained. The
references to the small hill, the cave resembling an "antenatal
tomb," the "incrusting" whitish alabaster surrounding
the lady, and so on may be further illumined by reviewing a passage
by Harrison regarding two "familiar Anodos vases":
On Gaia worship as seen in "The Bringing
up of Semele" much light is thrown by the familiar "Anodos"
vases. [. . .] We have a great mound of earth artificially covered
by a thick coat of white [. . .] In the midst rises up the figure
of a woman. It is a grave-mound, an omphalos-sanctuary, and
she who is the spirit of the earth incarnate rises up to bring
and be new life [. . .] On another Anodos vase the uprising
woman is inscribed (Phe)rophatta, but in most instances of the
type she is nameless, she is the Earth-Kore reborn in spring
(Themis 418-19). (See Frontispiece.)
The actual anodos of the marble lady in
chapter 5 results in a "slightly crashing sound" and she
is described as "veiled in [. . .] whiteness" and able
to glide and gleam. This recalls the religious experiences of the
neophytes as described by Harrison.
These verbal and graphic descriptions may account
for the majority of the connections between the Greek myths and
the "risings" of the Goddess in Phantastes. And
the references to the Euridike myths recall the quotation which
heads section 2 and will continue to play a crucial role in subsequent
exploration of the book. It sums up much of the mythology and mirrors
an important linear and historical structure.
After the third anodos of the Goddess, chapter
6 shows Anodos much more aware of his mythic vegetative role and
his close connection to Mother Earth:
Earth drew me towards her bosom; I felt as
if I could fall down and kiss her.
[. . .] Great stems rose before me, uplifting
a thick multitudinous roof above me of branches, and twigs and
leavesthe bird and insect world uplifted over mine, with
its own landscapes, its own thickets, and paths, and glades,
and dwellings; its own bird ways and insect delights [. . .]
[I]n the midst of this ecstasy, I remembered that under some
close canopy of leaves, by some giant stem, or in some mossy
cave, or beside some leafy well, sat the lady of the marble,
whom my songs had called forth into the outer world (67-68).
If we continue to unearth the mythology of another
Mother Goddess, Cybele, we discover further similarities between
ancient myth and the narrative of Phantastes. The Larousse
Encyclopaedia of Mythology begins its entry on Cybele (under
the heading of "Divinities of the Earth") with: "Etymologically
Cybele was the goddess of caverns. She personified the earth in
its primitive and savage state" (173). It was in this more
primitive state, namely as a rock, that Zeus attempted to rape the
Goddess (Monaghan 84). This has much in common with Pygmalion attempting
to mate with his statue (Monaghan 130). Anodos's similar phallocentric
response to the Goddesses he encounters is all too evident.
Before the next anodos of the Goddess occurs
in Phantastes, it seems that MacDonald makes sure to convey
that his protagonist continues to move east, towards the Orient.
Anodos states that: "I took my way I knew not wither, but still
towards the sunrise" (78). Towards evening he comes across
the farm with the pigs where he again meets a "matronly woman"
who again reminds us of the Kore/Orpheus myths involved when she
responds in a "motherly" fashion to an Attis-like Anodos
as "my poor boy." Anodos then tells the practically minded
pig farmer (an Euboleus figure?) that he is travelling eastward.
The farmer claims ignorance regarding what lies to the east (86)
but offers materialistic "good counsel"Euboleus
means "good counsel" in Greek (Graves 391).
Anodos journeys on into "a desert region of
dry sand and glittering rocks" (110) perhaps recalling
the desert regions east and south east of Greece. He changes to
a more southerly direction when he comes across a spring in the
desert, reminiscent of the basin and rivulet which first led him
into Fairy Land:
I walked listlessly and almost hopelessly along,
till I arrived one day at a small spring; which, bursting cool
from the heart of a sun-heated rock, flowed somewhat southwards
from the direction I had been taking [. . .] I thought I could
not do better than follow it, and see what it made of it (111).
Along this southerly direction, the stream joins
others to create "a paradise" in the desert (111); with
myriads of roses in bloom. The "paradise" and "roses"
allusions seem to suggest that Anodos is now in a region under Persian
influence. Here he once again begins to awaken to his close relationship
with the Goddess, under all of her forms and names:
my heart fainted with longing in my bosom.
Could I but see the Spirit of the Earth, as I saw once the indwelling
woman of the beech-tree, and my beauty of the pale marble, I
should be content. Content!Oh, how gladly would I die
of the light of her eyes! Yea, I would cease to be, if that
would bring me one word of love from the one mouth (112-13).
He finds a boat by the stream and lets it carry
him down-river. At first he falls "asleep in this cradle, in
which mother Nature was rocking her weary child" (114). When
he reawakes, he begins to see his journey not only in terms of a
fanciful mythological trip, but also as a religious journey, very
much as the ancients refer to this type of "voyage" into
the soul:
Even the memories of past pain are beautiful;
and past delights, though beheld only through clefts in the
grey clouds of sorrow, are lovely as Fairy Land. But how have
I wandered into the deeper fairyland of the soul, while as yet
I only float towards the fairy palace of Fairy Land! (115).
Anodos arrives at the palace (the Megaron?)
and once there he begins to experience events very similar to those
surrounding the three previous ascents of the Goddess. He once again
perceives shade-like beings all around him (in the air and water),
he intuits that a "Queen of Fairy Land" is nearby, and
once again discovers caves covered with vegetation"sea-weeds
of all hues" (127).
Important in the palace episode are the numerous
allusions to the seasons, and more specifically to the change from
winter to spring. Most of chapter 12 is devoted to this crucial
motif and the poem by G.E.M. heading this chapter deals directly
with this change of season, anthropomorphising the character of
Spring.
Chained is the Spring. The night-wind bold
Blows over the hard earth;
Time is not more confused and cold,
Nor keeps more wintry mirth.
Yet blow and roll the world about;
Blow, Timeblow, winter's Wind!
Through chinks of Time, heaven peepeth out,
And Spring the frost behind (133).
This is but one of many references to the shift
in season, the personification of the seasons, awakening from primal
sleep, and so on, before the central story of Cosmo is narrated
in chapter 13. By immersing himself fully in the books he readsparticularly
the first one which he attempts to relate about the Winter-SpringAnodos,
with good reason, trusts he has: "carried away in my soul some
of the exhalations of their undying leaves" (179).
The story of Cosmo which he reads (another Greek
name with connotative meanings) also has many references to things
Greek and Oriental, and to some related experiences of Anodos in
Fairy Land. In this story there is a maiden named Hohenweiss (approximately
Highwhite in English) who is magically imprisoned and who at times
seems "more like marble than a living woman." Cosmo feels
he must free her, but in doing so loses her. The villain is named
Steinwald ("Stone Forest"), suggesting a subterranean
figure like Hades, particularly as Anodos subsequently descends
to a stone forest.
The relatively gender-neutral nature of the Cosmo
story suggests that Anodos here is somewhere midway between Greece
and the highly patriarchal land of Egypt. It may be surmised that
he is not far enough south yet to begin to use the name Isis for
the Goddess. He must first ease into the Egyptian tradition by experiencing
more Orphic-like, Middle Eastern cult practices through his doppelganger,
Cosmo. The bloody death of Cosmo is similar to the common death
of the Earth Goddess's male consorts (masculine personifications
of the annual vegetation), Adonis, Tammuz, Createan Zeus, Anceus
of Acadia, Carmanor of Lydia, Osiris, and the already mentioned
Attis, were all young male consorts of the Goddesses who die bloody
deaths at the end of the vegetative cycle (Graves 72-73). The similarity
is emphasised by the moon being "near its zenith" when
Cosmo dies, shining on his "wan face, which smiled on in the
spectral moonbeams." It was at the hands of the Moon, in the
guise of a sow or wild boar with crescent-shaped tusks, that the
male consorts of the Goddesses usually met their end. Most of these
gods are closely related to, if not interchangeable with, each other,
exactly like the Goddesses. Pygmalion may be Adonis (Kerényi 75),
Osiris is Dionysus/Bacchus (Herodotus 145),Osiris is Hades (Larousse
16), and so on.
This more patriarchal turn, away from a central
Mother Goddess, mirrored in Phantastes, once again recalls
the numerous connections between Orpheus and Osiris, particularly
singing and the playing of instruments that charm ( Larousse
16). As well, it must not be forgotten that the Greeks associated
their Demeter with the Egyptian Isis, though their mythologies differ
greatly, particularly in regard to gender dynamics (Larousse
17).
In the marble palace, Anodos continues to explore
some of the Orphic/Osirian aspects of himself and his surroundings.
He appears to view himself as though possessed by some musical spirit
such as that of Orpheus/Osiris:
As soon as I entered [the hall] the old inspiration
seemed to return to me, for I felt a strong impulse to sing;
or rather, it seemed as if some one else was singing a song
in my soul, which wanted to come forth at my lips, imbodied
in my breath (182).
Even after he finds a hall with "an innumerable
assembly of white marble statues," and claims he "hoarded
the expectation of entering, as of a great joy," he is too
distracted by his Orphic/Osirian role to follow this up: "Next
night I walked, as on the preceding, through the hall. My mind was
filled with pictures and songs, and therewith so much absorbed,
that I did not for some time think of looking within the curtain
I had last night lifted" (184). It is with reference to this
group of statues that Anodos conveys to the reader that some of
them are thousands of years old and, like the best of the ancient
statues, consist of marble (185).
Close contact with these statues gives rise to
Anodos's important prophetic dream. This dream is crucial not only
because it supplies him with information which he will use in the
fourth anodos of the Goddess, but also because he once again
gives a very Orphic account of his role in the previous anodos
of the Goddess. Here is how he has come to view the episode
in the marble cave. The passage also gives clues to the dancing,
central to the rites of the Goddess:
I almost started from my sleep on beholding,
not taking part in the dance with the others, nor seemingly
endued with life like them, but standing in marble coldness
and rigidity upon a black pedestal in the extreme left cornermy
lady of the cave; the marble beauty who sprang from her tomb
or her cradle at the call of my songs (187).
The above is a more patriarchal account of events
than his previous concept of the "antenatal tomb." In
the vain-pride of his masculinity (his phantastes) Anodos
reduces the marble lady to the status of a corpse or a child. It
is possibly the self-deception of this phantastes which causes
his view of the lady in the dream to be obscured by a (his?) shadow.
This patriarchal dream signals that the myth and story will soon
become much more male-oriented and "Egyptian." In chapter
15, where the next anodos of the Goddess will occur, Anodos
fuses the Greek/Eastern Orphic with the Egyptian Osirian. The chapter
begins with: "And now, what song should I sing to unveil my
Isis, if indeed she was present unseen?" (191). The Marble
lady's associations with Persephone are now temporally as well as
geographically left behind. By the time the Orpheus myth gained
popularity, Persephone appears to have been relegated to a constant
residence within the realm of Hades, away from her previous vegetative
role (Tripp 463-64).
Following this reference to the Egyptian Isis,
Anodos, just as his dream had foretold, finds the concealed Marble
lady. But again there are signs of her demotion (and her sacredness),
while at the same time Anodos's masculine role is inflated:
I walked on till I came to the sacred corner.
There I found the pedestal just as I had left it, with the faint
glimmer as of white feet still resting on the dead black. As
soon as I saw it, I seemed to feel a presence which longed to
become visible; and as it were, called to me to gift it with
self-manifestation, that it might shine on me (192).
As Anodos, partly due to the life-bringing success
of his singing, becomes more aware of his Orphic/Osirian role, naturally
he must acquire the lyric instrument of the ancient enchanters to
compliment this:
But I saw in the hand of one of the statues
close by me, a harp whose chords yet quivered. I remembered
that as she bounded past me, her harp had brushed against my
arm; so the spell of the marble had not infolded it. I sprang
to her, and with a gesture of entreaty, laid my hand on the
harp (192).
Having acquired both voice and harp, Anodos appears
to be ready to lift the veil of Isis and deal with the mystery of
the Goddess. His song once again acknowledges that the Goddess is
related to a "life-spring," and he appears well aware
how this energy "[p]ulses upward" (194). In this song
he claims that what may really be at stake in regards to this "woman"
is to "lift a holy mystery." However, though he acknowledges
the anodos-nature of the event"Tis the woman,
resting, rising / Upward to sublimity" and "Some great
vision upward rises"she is, nevertheless, seen as a mere
"woman" on this and subsequent occasions. Isis is described
as a "queen" yet Anodos appears to represent himself as
her "builder," while alluding to his perishing.
Anodos/Orpheus/ Osiris's songs "uncover" the statue, however,
and once again his masculine obsession to possess gets the better
of him as he again attempts to physically embrace the "queen."
This selfish (and patriarchal) action ruins his opportunity to spiritually
embrace Isis and ends the fourth anodos of the Goddess the
second where she is helped by a singing male figure.
Chapter 16 opens with a quotation from Schiller
which once again gounds the narrative in Greek mythology, directly
recalling the anodos of Persephone:
Ev'n the Styx, which ninefold her infoldeth,
Hems not Ceres' daughter in its flow;
But she grasps the appleever holdeth
Her, sad Orcus, down below (200).
These references to the Styx, Ceres/Demeter, her
daughter, and Orcus/Hades appear to imply that the nature of the
myth at the centre of the story has not changed. This is particularly
the case when we consider that the Greeks identified Osiris with
their Hades and Isis with Demeter/Kore (Larousse 16-17).
The myth remains the same, though it is reviewed in Phantastes
through several different traditions, topographies, epochs, and
peoples.
MacDonald then begins to analyse the death-rebirth
myths in question from a creative Oriental-Egyptian, and much more
patriarchal, dimension. This shift became apparent when Anodos forwent
his singing role and tried to lift the Marble lady from her pedestal,
much as Cosmo had tried to force Princess Hohenweiss to come to
him against her wishes. And, in similar fashion, the Marble lady
comes to life, is shocked by his selfishness, and springs away from
him. He follows her through a rough wooden door onto a waste windy
hill and, as in the Persephone myth, he guesses that she has fallen
down "a great hole in the earth"(203).
When Anodos can more clearly see this hole he describes
it as a "chasm" (reminiscent of the megara mentioned
earlier)perhaps one of the accepted ancient gateways to Hades.
He decides that he will descend into the chasm, in the same way
that he had made the steep descent to the marble cave. Part of this
journey he describes as "through an underground country, in
which the sky was of rock, and instead of trees and flowers there
were only fantastic rocks and stones" (205-06). This is a direct
reference to the Steinwald of the Cosmo story and seems to be there
to remind the reader of the similarity of the two narratives. It
not only points to past events in the story, however, but also gives
clues regarding the present state of the Mystery rites in the narrative,
and what is to come in the rest of the book. The underground realm
is lit by "sad, sepulchral illumination." Here goblins,
as they fight, create in Anodos's mind the image of "pyramids
of intertwined snakes." Yet again MacDonald has chasms, snakes,
sepulchres and now an allusion to Egypt in the "pyramids."
Chapter 18 begins with a Jean Paul (Richter) quote
which has men, not a Goddess, awakening. Anodos claims for himself
a type of Osirian identity as his thought becomes absurdly patriarchal,
male-centred, egocentric and phantastes-like:
Besides being delighted and proud that my
songs had called the beautiful creature to life, the same fact
caused me to feel a tenderness unspeakable for her, accompanied
with a kind of feeling of property in her; for so the goblin
Selfishness would reward the angel Love (215).
While in this lower realm of Hades, Anodos has
learned from Persephone's fate and is careful not to take any action
which would guarantee his remaining, or perpetually returning. Furthermore,
it is his own death that becomes more and more prominent for him
in his new role of Osiris.
Struggling out of this realm, Anodos finds himself
by a desolate shore. He is still in an infernal region. "Sign
of life was nowhere visible. I wandered over the stones, up and
down the beach, a human embodiment of the nature around me"
(217-18). Ultimately he decides to commit a type of suicide and
plunges into the "wintry sea." The result is an inversion
of the usual sort of suicide which traditionally takes a person
direct to hell. His plunge terminates his winter/death role (i.e.
his "human embodiment of the nature around me") as an
empty boat "rescues" him and brings him, draped in a pall,
to the home of the next Mother figure in the story. His anodos
leaves winter far behind and he finds himself "sailing fast
upon a summer sea."
In chapter 19 Anodos reaches the Goddess's "island."
The island seemed rich with a profusion of
all grasses and low flowers. All delicate lowly things were
most plentiful; but no trees rose skyward; not even a bush overtopped
the tall grasses, except in one place near the cottage I am
about to describe, where a few plants of the gumcistus, which
drops every night all the blossoms that the day brings forth,
formed a kind of natural arbour (222-23).
MacDonald's description of this island is reminiscent
of Spenser's description of the Garden of Adonis (FQ 3.6.29-49;
Docherty 59). Adonis was another of the Goddess's Eastern/Middle-Eastern
consorts (Whitney 3923). The Gumcistus, originally from Arabia and
Egypt, is the tree which was central to the myth and worship of
Adonis, another God of Vegetation. He was born from this tree, which
had once been a woman, Smyrna (Apollodorus 131), better known to
Dante as "wretched Mirrha" (140). When the beautiful child
was born, Aphrodite hid him in a chest and entrusted the chest to
the care of Persephone, who opened the chest and fell in love with
Adonis. This led to her demand that he spend each winter with her.
It is difficult to imagine this Grand Mother as
marble, yet she can stand "as still as a statue" with
a "face as white as death" (236). And her cottage with
its twice-mentioned "pyramidal roof" is decidedly "Egyptian."
Here Anodos's role of lover is once more reduced to that of a child.
She goes so far as to spoon-feed him. However, MacDonald may have
known that this regression does not necessarily refer to childishness
on the part of Anodos:
This mother-child figure, then, does not betoken
a regression to infantilism, in which an "adult" becomes
a child, or is moved with nostalgia by the mother's love for
her child; rather, man in his genuine identification with the
child experiences the Great Mother as a symbol of the life on
which he himself, the "grown-up," depends (Neumann
131).
The Mother then sings him the ballad of Sir Aglovaile
where again there are references to dead men waking and other chthonic
motifs. During the song, Anodos, as previously, interprets his position
from a Greek mythological perspective concerned with death: "While
she sung I was in Elysium, with the sense of a rich soul upholding,
embracing, and overhanging mine, full of all plenty and bounty"
(235). Thus, by this part of the story, the roles have been reversed
to the point where Anodos is the entity who must face "death,"
and who needs to be rescued and sung to by a female. Venturing "out"
from the cottage, Anodos has a vision of his Marble lady, but she
is now "altogether of the daughters of men" (240), and
is wedded to a knight. After all these role-reversals, and the male
subjugation of the Goddesses, it perhaps comes as no surprise that
Anodos regards this discovery as his own anodos/rising: "I
rose from the earth, loving the white lady as I had never loved
her before" (245).
The role of the Eastern Bacchus (like that of Adonis
and Orpheus) as a bridge between Greek and Egyptian mythology ought
not to be overlooked. The Marble lady (now Isis) compares Anodos
to the moon and her husband, the knight, to the sun. "He woke
me from worse than death [. . .] But I love him not as I love thee.
He was but the moon of my night; thou art the sun of my day, O beloved"
(242).
Lempriere's write-up on Bacchus includes not only
a reference to the close relationship between Bacchus and the sun
(as Apollo and Osiris), but also states that this god was sometimes
depicted with hornsa sign of the Moon, and he was the
son of Persephone or the Moon. Lempriere further claims that the
worship of Bacchus is derived from the worship of Osiris and was
introduced into Greece by Orpheus (109). The knight, as the "true"
Osiris, would of course mate with Isis, the Marble lady. Furthermore,
as a Sun-god, he would be likely to be red in the evening and bright
at the noonday. That such connections are present between the knight
and the sun is easily ascertainable from the parts of the book where
he appears. This is most obvious, in indirect fashion, in chapter
3 where Anodos reads the following as the sun is setting:
Here it chaunced, that upon their quest, Sir
Galahad and Sir Percivale reencountered in the depths of a great
forest. Now, Sir Galahad was dight all in harness of silver,
clear and shining [. . .] Sir Galahad's armour shone like the
moon. And he rode a great white mare. [. . .] Whereas Sir Percivale
bestrode a red horse, with a tawny mane and tail [. . .] and
his armour was wondrous rosty to behold, ne could he by any
art furbish it again; so that as the sun in his going down shone
twixt the bare trunks of the trees, full upon the knights twain,
the one did seem all shining with light, and the other all to
glow with ruddy fire (21-22).
Thus it seems that the knight of the soiled armour
is related, in MacDonald's mind, to Sir Percivale, Osiris and the
sun, while Anodos has affinities with the moon and Sir Galahad.
Assisted and informed by an "Egyptian-like"
understanding of his new-found love for Isis and by a hieroglyph-like
cipher to help him find his way, Anodosin the pyramidal-roofed
cottageonce again descends into the realm of the dead. Here
he comes into contact with his ancestors. An unseen kiss which he
receives (247) may be given by the "grandmother" of chapter
1. She can now kiss Anodos, given that much of her power has dissipated
by this point in the story, while Anodos's has increased.
After the last of his four dream-journeys from
the cottage, Anodos describes how: "I awoke to consciousness,
lying on the floor of the cottage, with my head in the lap of the
woman, who was weeping over me and stroking my hair with both hands,
talking to me as a mother might talk to a sick and sleeping, or
a dead child" (249). Once awake, Anodos seems to be aware that
she is performing some type of earth ritual when "she bathed
my head and face and hands in an icy cold, colourless liquid, which
smelt of damp earth." This is possibly a rite of embalming,
as Isis introduced embalming into Egypt (Larousse 18-19).
Following these "rites of passage," the
Great Mother, in prime classical fashion, explains to him that he
must leave, and tells him to do "something worth doing"
(251). This command is exactly the one usually given to the heroes
by their patron Goddess, sometime during the change from matriarchy
to patriarchy:
The relation of these early matriarchal, husbandless
goddesses, whether Mother or Maid, to the male figures that
accompany them is one altogether noble and womanly, though not
perhaps what the modern mind holds to be feminine. It seems
to halt somewhere halfway between Mother and Lover, with a touch
of the patron saint. Aloof from achievement themselves, they
choose a local hero of their own to inspire and protect. They
ask of him not that he should love and adore, but that he should
do great deeds [. . .] With the coming of patriarchal conditions
this high companionship ends. The women goddesses are sequestered
to a servile domesticity, they become abject and amorous (Prolegomena
273).
Again, the mythological command and historical
progression is mirrored almost to the letter in Phantastes.
The next two chapters narrate Anodos's adventures
with his soon-to-be-slain "brothers." The episode, like
many others, is much too complex to be analysed fully here. Nevertheless,
some references relevant for this paper may be examined. For instance,
MacDonald likely borrows from a story in Spencer (FQ 4.2.41-4.3.34)
involving four Greek characters and their meaningful connoting names:
Agape (Love) and her three sons Priamond (One Strength), Diamond
(Two Strengths) and Triamond (Three Strengths). It may be in Spenser's
joining of the Faerie realm and Greek myths that MacDonald found
a bridge between his own conception of Fairy Land and Greek mythology.
This tale includes the somewhat strange preparation for the fight
against the giants in which Anodos-Bacchus-Orpheus once again plays
a lyre and sings to his brothers prior to their deaths:
We rose, that fatal morning, by daybreak. We
had rested from all labour the day before, and now were fresh
as the lark. We bathed in cold spring water, and dressed ourselves
in clean garments, with a sense of preparation, as for a solemn
festivity. When we had broken our fast, I took an old lyre,
which I had found in the tower and had myself repaired, and
sung (268).
MacDonald, like Spenser, places the strength of
the newly-killed brothers in the breast of the surviving brother.
This leads directly, by way of triple-pride (phantastes)
on Anodos's part regarding his victory over the giants, to
his imprisonment in a dark tower. It is by a reversal, the song
of a female entity, that he is able to escape from this prison of
his pride. Her song is described by Anodos as "like an incarnation
of Nature" (283). She is comparable to the Egyptian Isis rescuing
Osiris from the kingdom of the dead, unlike the situation in the
Greek myths where the male rescues the female.
After these adventures, Anodos joins the knight
who has become the mate of the Marble lady. It is with this knight
that he experiences one of the most Egyptian of his adventures where
they enter a yew-tree-enclosed compound where some type of human
sacrifice is taking place. Before we proceed, however, further connections
between the Egyptian Osiris and Bacchus ought to be made explicit:
[Bacchus] also sits on a celestial globe, bespangled
with stars, and is then the same as the Sun or Osiris of Ĉgypt.
The festivals of Bacchus generally called Orgies, Canephoria,
Phallica, Bacchanalia or Dionysia were introduced into Greece
from Ĉgypt [. . .] The Ĉgyptians sacrificed pigs to him, before
the doors of their houses. The fir tree, the yew tree, the ivy
and the vine were sacred to him (Lempriere 109).
The mysterious ceremony witnessed by Anodos and
the knight appears to be under the guidance of an Egyptian-like
warrior-priest class:
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 (306).
Anodos and his two "brothers" dressed
in similar "clean garments" for their deadly and "solemn
festivity" (268). The way Anodos strangles a wolf at this ceremony
and is likely hacked to death also mirrors how the giant had been
struck by the older brother's battle-axe and had in turn strangled
this brother before dying from his wound. This giant and Anodos
both strangle their foes, and with both of them their grasps cannot
be loosened even after they die. Osiris, in his myth, is hacked
to death by the giant Set/Typhon, while Bacchus is also cut to pieces
by giantsthe Titans (Lempriere 468-69; 108-09). Thus it appears
that the Bacchus/Osiris connection used by MacDonald lends many
of its disparate narrative contingencies to Phantastes.
The rites leading to Anodos killing the wolf and
his own subsequent death also correspond very closely to the Egyptian
mythology surrounding Osiris and his counterpart Upuaut, a wolf-god
and a god of the underworld. For instance, during one of Osiris's
many incarnations, he came back to life inside a pillar made from
the trunk of a tree (Larousse 17), likely giving rise to
the priests in Phantastes pushing the youths into the hollow
tree-idol during their ritual. The tree in which Osiris was trapped
was a manna-exuding Tamarisk (Monaghan 177) and the other source
of manna is a type of Ash - Fraxinus ornus (Grieve 67-69).
This may explain Anodos's encounter with the Ash which "has
a hole in his heart [. . .] and he is always trying to fill it up"
(46).
Up Uaut signifies "he who opens the way."
In prehistoric representations we see the wolf-god, borne high
upon his standard, guiding the warriors of his tribe into enemy
territory. Similarly, during his principal procession, Upuaut,
carried on his shield, leads the cortege at the festivals of
Osiris [. . .]
A former warrior-god, he was also worshipped
as a god of the dead; and notably at Abydos, before Osiris deposed
him (Larousse 25).
Thus Anodos, in deposing the wolf-god, fulfils
one more role of the Egyptian Osiris, who is himself defined in
the Larousse Encyclopaedia as:
Osiris, [. . .] was identified by the Greeks
with several of their own gods, but principally with Dionysus
and Hades. At first Osiris was a nature god and embodied the
spirit of vegetation which dies with the harvest to be reborn
when the grain sprouts. Afterwards he was worshipped throughout
Egypt as god of the dead, and in this capacity reached the first
rank in the Egyptian pantheon [. . .]
Osiris was the enemy of all violence and it
was by gentleness alone that he subjected country after country,
winning and disarming their inhabitants by songs and the playing
of various musical instruments [. . .]
But it was not long before he became the victim
of a plot organised by his brother Set [. . .] Isis, thanks
to her powers of sorcery and the aid of Thoth, Anubis and Horus,
succeeded in restoring her husband's dead body to life [. .
.]
Resurrected and from thenceforward secure from
the threat of death, Osiris could have regained his throne and
continued to reign over the living. But he preferred to depart
from this earth and retire to the "Elysian Fields"
where he warmly welcomed the souls of the just and reigned over
the dead [. . .]
[H]e became identified with Khenti Amenti,
the wolf-god, and became the great god of the dead, sometimes
known as Osiris Khenti Amenti, "Lord of the Westerners"that
is, the dead, who dwell in the west where the sun sets [. .
.].
[His] festivals [. . .] were publicly celebrated,
and in the course of the mysteries then presented priests and
priestesses would mime the passion and resurrection of the god
(16-17).
Much of the information provided by the last two
quotations is very helpful in giving some background to Anodos's
actions and death, along with much information regarding the latter
parts of Phantastes. The Osirian mimes of the priests are
certainly very decadent by the time Anodos interrupts them by destroying
the hollow-tree image and the wolf spirit which presided over the
brutal ceremony. As well, it can be seen that Osiris shares many
characteristics with Orpheus and Bacchus: two deities associated
with mimes, dances, and the origins of drama. All of these related
deities, meanwhile, give further clues regarding the change from
matriarchy to patriarchy around the East and South East coast of
the Mediterranean.
That MacDonald was aware of the symbolism of west-death,
east-life is clear not only from Phantastes but from a letter
to a friend whose daughter had just died:
I fear I must believe that your best human
friend has gone away from you, and that you have now only to
look out along the dusty road after her, gather up your garments,
and trudge on wearily.
But friend it is towards the East [. . .]
Already I feel the light shadows of the Evening
are looking at me from over the western horizon. But I travel
to the East in my soul, to leave them behind (1868 letter to
Henry Sutton, in Sadler 163).
There is another indication of MacDonald's knowledge
and use of Egyptian mythology early in Phantastes. Plutarch,
in Isis and Osiris, notes that:
The Military class had the [scarab] for device
[. . .] for the beetle is never female, but all are males, and
they breed by depositing their seed [in balls of dung]; since
they make these balls, not so much to provide material for food,
as a place for propagation of their kind (375).
This accounts for the description of the dung beetles
of chapter 4 of Phantastes as "strong-armed" and
"enemies" of the glow-worms. But the dung-beetle Khepri
is also the god who pushes up the great ball of the sun each day
to resurrection from its nightly death in the underworld. Anodos
sees dung-balls resurrected by the beetles as "gorgeously coloured"
sky-rockets (36). And, ultimately, he himself exhibits a comparable
burst of uprising energy when, dead and resurrected, his spirit
rises up, first into a flower and then into a cloud (316).
Another mythological character who may shed light
on the apparent inconsistency between the civilised Osiris and the
idol who is worshipped by rites of human sacrifice in Phantastes
is Busiris, an evil king of Egypt (associated in his name with Osiris).
He routinely sacrificed strangers "until the arrival of Heracles,
who let the priests hale him off to the altar [. . .] Busiris, calling
upon the gods, was about to raise the sacrificial axe, when Heracles
burst his bonds and slew Busiris [. . .] and all the priestly attendants"
(Graves 2.148). This may partially explain why Anodos/Osiris had
his "unaccountable conviction that here was something bad"
(307) before experiencing anything overtly evil inside the yew-tree
enclosure.
The last two chapters of the book still need to
be combedafter all, the main anodos of Anodos-Osiris
is yet to occur. Chapter 24 has an epigraph from Cowley about the
resurrection of the dead, and in the chapter the references to the
anodos/vegetation myths appear to become more and more explicit.
For example, once Anodos is dead he philosophises on the nature
of his role:
The very fact that anything can die, implies
the existence of something that cannot die; which must either
take to itself another form, as when the seed that is sown dies,
and rises again; or, in conscious existence, may, perhaps, continue
to lead a purely spiritual life (314).
This quotation is significant because of the wealth
of previous references connecting Anodos directly to fertility deities,
and both Anodos and these deities to the rebirth of "dead"
seeds. Persephone and Osiris in particular are both directly associated
with the dying and reborn spirit of vegetation and seeds/grains
(Tripp 463, Larousse 16). As if these musings were not enough
to summarise the winter/spring and death/life character of the book,
Anodos continues:
They buried me in no graveyard. They loved
me too much for that, I thank them; but they laid me in the
grounds of their own castle, amid many trees; where, as it was
spring time, were growing primroses [. . .] and all the families
of the woods.
Now that I lay in her bosom, the whole earth,
and each of her many births, was as a body to me, at my will.
I seemed to feel the great heart of the mother beating into
mine, and feeding me with her own life, her own essential being
and nature (315).
This latest rebirth is right on schedule, as it
is spring time again, a time for reawakening. Furthermore, by this
point, Anodos has taken on most of the Mother's essential being,
nature, and body under his own will.
The last chapter is prefaced by the very appropriate
quotation from Chaucer's "Pardoner's Tale" where there
is an old man wishing to die and following the ancient tradition
of pounding the earth. However, MacDonald leaves the phrase "leve
mother let me in" ambiguous, as Anodos appears to be on his
way "out" of the gate separating the lower from the upper
world. This is but one of many similar reversals. Anodos begins
the chapter by calling the everyday world "the world of shadows."
Thenin similar fashion to Cosmo's: "Who lives, he dies;
who dies, he is alive"he claims that coming back to life
is like what we expect to feel when we die (319).
Following Anodos's last anodosthis
time to the "upper world"there is another allusion
still to come to the Goddess's yearly journey of kathodos
and anodos which patriarchy had usurped. Even with the very
last paragraph of Phantastes there are clues about the ongoing
cyclical chthonic nature of the story:
I will end my story with the relation of an
incident which befell me a few days ago. I had been with my
reapers, and, when they ceased their work at noon, I had lain
down under the shadow of a great ancient beech tree, that stood
on the edge of the field (323).
Reapers are not only associated with human death:
in the ancient mythologies their reaping of the corn was linked
with the killing of the corn deities, notably Persephone and Osiris
(Larousse 17). Plutarch calls this the "time men shear
to earth Demeter's limbs" (Harrison, Prolegomena 275).This
initiated the kathodos of these goddesses and gods into the
underworld. Thus, for a variety of reasons, it is significant that
Anodos finds himself, at the "end" of his story, prostrate
like the freshly cut corn around him and in the company of his
reapers. Moreover, his final words are: "And so Farewell."
Given the theory that it is through the types of "deaths"
described in Phantastes that humans grow spiritually, we
may better understand a young George MacDonald's strange wish, recounted
by his son through Helen MacKay: "I wis we war a' deid!"
(Greville MacDonald 84).
Some of the same mythological ideas which drove
MacDonald to write Phantastes seem to have inspired his earlier
wedding present to his wife. Here, to round off the above account,
are the last three stanzas of this important poem:
Love me, beloved, for both must lie
Under the earth and beneath the sky;
The world be the same when we are gone;
The leaves and the waters all sound on;
The spring come forth, and the wild flowers live.
Gifts for the poor man's love to give;
The sea, the lordly, the gentle sea,
Tell the same tales to others than thee;
And joys, that flush with an inward morn,
Irradiate hearts that are yet unborn;
A youthful race call our earth their own,
And gaze on its wonders from thought's high throne;
Embraced by fair Nature, the youth will embrace
The maid beside him, his queen of the race;
When thou and I shall have passed away
Like the foam-flake thou lookedst on yesterday.
Love me, beloved; for both must tread
On the threshold of Hades, the house of the dead;
Where now but in thinkings strange we roam,
We shall live and think, and shall be at home;
The sights and the sounds of the spirit land
No stranger to us than the white sea-sand,
Than the voice of the waves, and the eye of the moon,
Than the crowded street in the sunlit noon.
I pray thee to love me, belov'd of my heart;
If we love not truly, at death we part;
And how would it be with our souls to find
That love, like a body, was left behind?
Love me beloved; Hades and Death
Shall vanish away like a frosty breath;
These hands, that now are at home in thine,
Shall clasp thee again, if thou still art mine;
And thou shalt be mine, my spirit's bride,
In the ceaseless flow of eternity's tide,
If the truest love that thy heart can know
Meet the truest love that from mine can flow.
Pray God, beloved, for thee and me,
That our souls may be wedded eternally.
(Qtd in Greville MacDonald 153).
4 Phantastes and the Transformations
of Apuleius
I am Nature, the universal Mother, mistress
of all the elements, primordial child of time, sovereign of
all things spiritual, queen of the dead, queen also of the immortals,
the single manifestation of all gods and goddesses there are
[. . .] Though I am worshipped in many aspects, known by countless
names, and propitiated with all manner of different rites, yet
the whole round earth venerates me. The primeval Phrygians call
me Pessinuntica, Mother of the gods; the Athenians, sprung from
their own soil, call me Cecropian Artemis; for the islanders
of Cyprus I am Paphian Aphrodite; for the archers of Crete I
am Dictynna; for the trilingual Sicilians, Stygian Prosephone;
and for the Eleusinians their ancient Mother of the Corn.
Some know me as Juno, some as Bellona of the
Battles; others as Hecate, others again as Rhamnubia, but both
races of Aethiopians, whose lands the morning sun first shines
upon, and the Egyptians who excel in ancient learning and worship
me with ceremonies proper to my godhead, call me by my true
name, namely, Queen Isis
Apuleius, The Golden Ass (228).
Readers versed in the classics may now recognise
parallels between MacDonald's Phantastes and Apuleius's The
Golden Ass. Both stories relate a foolish and ignorant young
man's kathodos and ultimate anodos, encountering on
the way good and bad witches and goddesses, numerous "deaths"
and "rebirths," the learning of numerous religious roles
and so on. Both draw from the same storehouse of Greek myths, so
numerous images are common to both books. These include, in the
early chapters: references to petrified men and to statues of the
gods stepping from their pedestals (41); a goddess and her cavern
(42); roses and "a living statue" (50); someone feeling
like a corpse and "like Adonis mauled by the wild boar, or
Orpheus torn in pieces by the Thracian women" (57); Isis, a
revived corpse, and the "marshy waters of the Styx" (59);
and so on. The plot, characters, subject matter, and language of
Phantastes cause it to resemble this book even more than
Shelley's "Alastor," and certainly more than any of the
other candidates so far presented.
5 Phantastes and Past and Present Scholarship
In a letter to Mrs. A. J. Scott, my father
thus refers to the book which he is sending her husband:
"I hope Mr. Scott will
like my fairy-tale [Phantastes]. I don't see what right
the Athenĉum has to call it an allegory and judge or
misjudge it accordingly as if nothing but an allegory
could have two meanings!"
Yet I do not quite see why my father should
object to the definition.
Greville MacDonald George MacDonald and
His Wife (297).
MacDonald was very interested in
and knowledgeable about Greek mythology. He likely agreed with Goethe's
insight that: " Of all peoples the Greeks have dreamt
the dream of life best." Phantastes is one of the books
in which he used some obscure aspects of the evolution of different
forms of the Mother/Kore and Isis/Osiris myths to deal with two
recurring and important themes at the forefront of his thoughts:
"good death" and rebirth. "[S]tudying literature
and the history of religious development," MacDonald was able
to probe some deeply buried beliefs and concepts, beginning with
the Greek myths of the awakening of life in the spring after its
winter "death." We may never know what he exactly hoped
to achieve with Phantastes, but we can now see that its enigmatic
rituals are closely related to the old pagan mysteries.
The reading provided in this paper tends to cast
doubt on Stephen Prickett's theory that Phantastes is one
of the best examples of an English Bildungsroman based upon
a German predecessorthat is, unless The Golden Ass
is accepted as a "proto-Bildungsroman." Some of
the differing opinions regarding whether Phantastes is centripetal
or centrifugal may also now begin to be settled. Much of Anodos's
adventures appears to be helixical: historically moving away from
a point in space-time and consciousness and attempting to follow,
from different perspectives, either the history or the different
customs involved in the similar worship of the Spring/ Mother, or
a resurrected fertility god, in ancient neighbouring territories.
That is to say: Phantastes appears to be continually focused
on the evolving myths regarding the death and rebirth of life, but
from multiple perspectives of territories and epochs. The book,
as analysed in this paper, follows an historicaland thus a
linear-helical structure. It mirrors the accounts of a wholly matriarchal
anodos slowly supplanted by the pervasive incursions of male
entities and patriarchy. Insofar as history is linear and/or helical,
so are its mirror images in Phantastes.
One of the structures the book follows is a dynamic
for which MacDonald is well known: the two-world nature of life
and of energy. Phantastes follows the kathodos and
anodos of the deity descending into the underworld in the
winter to gloriously ascend in the spring. For MacDonalda
man trained in electro-chemistrythis manifests as a type of
alternating energy. Many places may be found in the book where the
"life energy" begins to reverse its polarity. The "harmony
of the centre," so important to MacDonald and some of his commentators,
is the dynamic equilibrium or "neutrality" between many
different types of opposing energies: "life," psychic,
electric, male-female, and so on.
McGillis's theories regarding the "feminist"
aspects of Phantastes are now seen to be near, yet somewhat
off, the mark. Insofar as the book follows a certain historical
progression, it clearly shows a movement from matriarchy to patriarchy.
It is probably for this reason that Anodos's "grandmother"
states at the beginning of the story that he knows much about his
male ancestors but almost nothing about the female line. (The righting
of this imbalance was likely one of MacDonald's aims with the book).
Having now these other possible
religious and literary sources at hand for an understanding of Phantastes,
the reader may more confidently choose which theories fit this adult
fairy tale. It is obvious from many of MacDonald's works that he
was extremely interested in spiritual and actual death and rebirth.
In Phantastes his protagonist explores several related ancient
conceptions associated with this old and important question. However,
that the answers to these age-old questions concur with the Ulster
Protestantism of C. S. Lewis is unlikely. MacDonald is tracing the
idea of death and rebirth primarily from a Classical perspective
in Phantastes and primarily from a Judaeo-Christian perspective
in its "sequel" Lilith. The "message"
which Lewisin the famous preface to his MacDonald anthol |