Magic

Magic, by G.K. Chesterton

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Title: Magic A Fantastic Comedy
Author: G.K. Chesterton
Release Date: August 21, 2006 [EBook #19094]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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MAGIC A FANTASTIC COMEDY

[Illustration: G.K. Chesterton From a photograph]

MAGIC A FANTASTIC COMEDY
BY G.K. CHESTERTON

G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS NEW YORK AND LONDON The
Knickerbocker Press 1913

COPYRIGHT, 1913 BY G.K. CHESTERTON
The Knickerbocker Press, New York

THE CHARACTERS
THE DUKE DOCTOR GRIMTHORPE THE REV. CYRIL SMITH
MORRIS CARLEON HASTINGS, the Duke's Secretary THE
STRANGER PATRICIA CARLEON
The action takes place in the Duke's Drawing-room.

NOTE
THIS play was presented under the management of Kenelm Foss at The
Little Theatre, London, on November 7, 1913, with the following cast:
THE STRANGER FRANKLIN DYALL PATRICIA CARLEON
MISS GRACE CROFT THE REV. CYRIL SMITH O.P. HEGGIE DR.
GRIMTHORPE WILLIAM FARREN THE DUKE FRED LEWIS
HASTINGS FRANK RANDELL MORRIS CARLEON LYONEL
WATTS

THE PRELUDE

SCENE: A plantation of thin young trees, in a misty and rainy twilight;
some woodland blossom showing the patches on the earth between the
stems.
THE STRANGER is discovered, a cloaked figure with a pointed hood.
His costume might belong to modern or any other time, and the conical
hood is so drawn over the head that little can be seen of the face.
A distant voice, a woman's, is heard, half-singing, half-chanting,
unintelligible words. The cloaked figure raises its head and listens with
interest. The song draws nearer and PATRICIA CARLEON enters.
She is dark and slight, and has a dreamy expression. Though she is
artistically dressed, her hair is a little wild. She has a broken branch of
some flowering tree in her hand. She does not notice the stranger, and
though he has watched her with interest, makes no sign. Suddenly she
perceives him and starts back.
PATRICIA. Oh! Who are you?
STRANGER. Ah! Who am I? [Commences to mutter to himself, and
maps out the ground with his staff.]
I have a hat, but not to wear; I wear a sword, but not to slay, And ever
in my bag I bear A pack of cards, but not to play.
PATRICIA. What are you? What are you saying?
STRANGER. It is the language of the fairies, O daughter of Eve.
PATRICIA. But I never thought fairies were like you. Why, you are
taller than I am.
STRANGER. We are of such stature as we will. But the elves grow
small, not large, when they would mix with mortals.
PATRICIA. You mean they are beings greater than we are.
STRANGER. Daughter of men, if you would see a fairy as he truly is,
look for his head above all the stars and his feet amid the floors of the

sea. Old women have taught you that the fairies are too small to be seen.
But I tell you the fairies are too mighty to be seen. For they are the
elder gods before whom the giants were like pigmies. They are the
Elemental Spirits, and any one of them is larger than the world. And
you look for them in acorns and on toadstools and wonder that you
never see them.
PATRICIA. But you come in the shape and size of a man?
STRANGER. Because I would speak with a woman.
PATRICIA. [Drawing back in awe.] I think you are growing taller as
you speak.
[The scene appears to fade away, and give place to the milieu of ACT
ONE, the Duke's drawing-room, an apartment with open French
windows or any opening large enough to show a garden and one house
fairly near. It is evening, and there is a red lamp lighted in the house
beyond. The REV. CYRIL SMITH is sitting with hat and umbrella
beside him, evidently a visitor. He is a young man with the highest of
High Church dog-collars and all the qualities of a restrained fanatic.
He is one of the Christian Socialist sort and takes his priesthood
seriously. He is an honest man, and not an ass.
[To him enters MR. HASTINGS with papers in his hand.
HASTINGS. Oh, good evening. You are Mr. Smith. [Pause.] I mean
you are the Rector, I think.
SMITH. I am the Rector.
HASTINGS. I am the Duke's secretary. His Grace asks me to say that
he hopes to see you very soon;