at finding so many flowers without the trouble of searching for them, he
began to drink up their honey very voraciously. Little Red Riding Hood
knew well the difference of a wasp and a bee--how lazy the one, and how
industrious the other--yet, as they are all God's creatures, she
wouldn't kill it, and only said: "Take as much honey as you like, poor
wasp, only do not sting me." The wasp buzzed louder, as if to thank her
for her kindness, and, when he had sipped his fill, flew away.
Presently, a little tom-tit, who had been hopping about on a bough
opposite, darted down on the basket, and pecked at one of the
strawberries. "Eat as much as you like, pretty tom-tit," said Little Red
Riding Hood: "there will still be plenty left for grandam and for me."
The tom-tit replied, "Tweat--tweat," in his own eloquent language; and,
after gobbling up at least three strawberries, flew away, and was soon
out of sight. Little Red Riding Hood now bethought her it was time to go
on; so, putting her wreath into her basket, she tripped along demurely
enough till she came to a brook, where she saw an aged crone, almost
bent double, seeking for something along the bank. "What are you looking
for, goody?" said the little girl. "For water-cresses, my pretty maid,"
mumbled the poor old woman; "and a sorry trade it is, that does not
earn me half enough bread to eat." Little Red Riding Hood thought it
very hard the poor old creature should work and be hungry too, so she
drew from her pocket a large piece of bread, which her mother had given
her to eat by the way, and said: "Sit down, goody, and eat this, and I
will gather your water-cresses for you." The old woman willingly
accepted the offer, and sat down on a knoll, while Little Red Riding
Hood set to work in good earnest, and had presently filled her basket
with water-cresses. When her task was finished, the old crone rose up
briskly, and, patting the little maid's head, said, in quite a different
voice "Thank you, my pretty Little Red Riding Hood and now, if you
happen to meet the green huntsman as you go along, pray give him my
respects, and tell him there is game in the wind." Little Red Riding
Hood promised to do so, and walked on; but presently she looked back to
see how the old woman was getting along, but, look as sharp as she
might, she could see no trace of her, nor of her water-cresses. She
seemed to have vanished clean out of sight. "It is very odd," thought
Little Red Riding Hood to herself, "for surely I can walk faster than
she." Then she kept looking about her, and prying into all the bushes,
to see for the green huntsman, whom she had never heard of before, and
wondered why the old woman had given her such a message. At last, just
as she was passing by a pool of stagnant water, so green that you would
have taken it for grass, and have walked into it, as Little Red Riding
Hood, who had never seen it before, though she had gone that same way
often enough, had nearly done, she perceived a huntsman clad in green
from top to toe, standing on the bank, apparently watching the flight of
some birds that were wheeling above his head. "Good morning, Master
Huntsman," said Little Red Riding Hood; "the old water-cress woman sends
her service to you, and says there is game in the wind." The huntsman
nodded assent, and bent his ear to the ground to listen, and then drew
out an arrow tipped with a green feather, and strung his bow, without
taking any further notice of Little Red Riding Flood, who trudged
onwards, wondering what it all meant.
[Illustration]
Presently the little girl reached her grandmother's well-known cottage,
and knocked at the door. "Who is there?" cried the wolf, forgetting to
disguise his voice. Little Red Riding Hood was somewhat startled at
first; then thinking her grandam had a bad cold that made her very
hoarse, she answered, "It is your grandchild, Little Red Riding Hood,
who has brought you a cake and a little pot of butter, which mother
sends you." The wolf then softened his voice a little, as he replied:
"Lift the latch, and the bolt will fall." Little Red Riding Hood did as
she was told, and then entered the cottage. The wolf then hid his head
under the bed-clothes, and said: "Put the cake and the pot of butter on
the shelf, my dear, and then come and help me to rise." Little Red
Riding Hood set down her basket, and then went and drew back the
curtain, when she was much surprised to see how oddly her grandmother
looked in her night-clothes. "Dear me! grandmamma," said the little
girl, "what long arms you have got!" "The better to hug you, my child,"
answered the wolf.
[Illustration]
"But, grandmamma, what long ears you have got!" persisted Little Red
Riding Hood.
"The better to listen to you, my child," replied the wolf.
"But, grandmamma, what large eyes you have got!" continued the little
girl.
"The better to see you, my child," said the wolf.
"But, grandmamma, what terrible large teeth you have got!" cried Little
Red Riding Hood, who now began to be frightened.
"The better to eat you up," exclaimed the wolf, who was just about to
make a spring at the poor little girl, when a wasp, who had followed her
into the cottage, stung the wolf in his nostril, and made him sneeze
aloud, which gave the signal to a tom-tit perched on a branch near the
open casement, who called out "Tweat--tweat," which warned the green
huntsman, who accordingly let fly his arrow, that struck the wolf right
through the ear and killed him on the spot.
Little Red Riding Hood was too frightened, even after the wolf had
fallen back dead, that she bounced out of the cottage, and, shutting the
door, darted into the forest like a frightened hare, and ran till she
was out of breath, when she dropped down quite exhausted under a tree.
Here she discovered that she had mistaken the road, when, to her great
relief, she espied her old friend the water-cress woman, at some
distance; and, feeling sure she could soon overtake the aged dame, she
again set off, calling out to her every now and then to stop. The old
crone, however, seemed too deaf to hear; and it was not till they had
reached the skirts of the forest that she turned round, when, to Little
Red Riding Hood's surprise, she perceived a young and beautiful being in
place of the decrepit creature she thought she was following. "Little
Red Riding Hood," said the fairy, for such she was, "your goodness of
heart has saved you from a great danger. Had you not helped the poor old
water-cress woman, she would not have sent word to the green huntsman,
who is generally invisible to mortal eyes, to save you. Had you killed
the wasp, or driven away the tom-tit, the former could not have stung
the wolf's nostril and made him sneeze, nor the latter have given the
huntsman the signal to fly his shaft. In future, no wild beast shall
ever harm you, and the fairy folks will always be your friends." So
saying, the fairy vanished, and Little Red Riding Hood hastened home to
tell her mother all that had befallen her; nor did she forget that night
to thank Heaven fervently for having delivered her from the jaws of the
wolf.
[Illustration]
THE STORY
OF THE
=Sleeping Beauty in the Wood=.
[Illustration]
=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=
=The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood.=
There once lived a king and queen, who had been married many years
without having any children, which was a subject of great sorrow to
them. So when at length it pleased Heaven to send them a daughter, there
was no end to the rejoicings that were made all over the kingdom, nor
was there ever so grand a christening seen before. All the fairies in
the land were invited to stand godmothers to the little princess, in the
hope that each would endow her with some gift, as was customary in those
days; by which means she would be adorned with every perfection and
accomplishment that could be devised.
When the christening was over, the company returned to the king's
palace, where a banquet was prepared for the fairies, seven in number,
who had graced the ceremony with their presence. Before each fairy was
laid a splendid cover, with a case of massive gold containing a knife, a
fork, and a spoon of the purest gold, ornamented with diamonds and
rubies. Just as they were going to sit down, in came an aged fairy who
had not been invited, because, having remained shut up in a tower for
more than fifty years, she was supposed to be either dead or under the
influence of some spell. The king immediately ordered a cover to be laid
for her, but he could not give her a golden case like the others, as
only seven had been made, for the seven fairies. The old crone
consequently thought herself treated with disrespect, and muttered
sundry threats betwixt her teeth, which happened to be overheard by one
of the young fairies, who, fearing she might bestow some fatal gift on
the baby princess, had no sooner risen from table than she went and
concealed herself behind the tapestry-hangings, in order that she might
speak the last, and be able to neutralize, if possible, any mischief the
ill-natured hag might intend doing.
The fairies now began to bestow their gifts. The youngest endowed her
with surpassing beauty; another gave her wit; a third imparted grace; a
fourth promised that she should dance to perfection; a fifth, that she
should sing like a nightingale; and the sixth, that she should play on
all sorts of instruments in the most exquisite manner. It was now the
old fairy's turn to speak; when, coming forward, with her head shaking
from spite still more than from age, she declared the princess would
prick her hand with a spindle, and die of the wound.
[Illustration]
This terrible sentence fell like a damp upon all the company, and there
was no one present but what shed tears. But just then the young fairy
came out from behind the tapestry-hangings, and said aloud: "Be
comforted, O king and queen: your daughter shall not die of the wound.
For although I have not the power to undo completely the mischief worked
by an older fairy, and though I cannot prevent the princess from
pricking her hand with a spindle, yet, instead of dying, she shall only
fall into a sleep, that will last a hundred years, at the end of which a
king's son will come and wake her."
Notwithstanding the fairy's words, the king, in hopes of averting such a
misfortune altogether, published an edict forbidding any person to make
use of spindles, or even to keep them in their house, under pain of
death.
Some fifteen or sixteen years afterwards, it happened that the king and
queen went to visit one of their summer palaces; when the young
princess, running one morning all over the rooms, in the frolicsome
spirits of youth, at length climbed up one of the turrets, and reached a
little garret, where she found an old woman busy spinning with a
distaff. The poor soul had never even heard of the king's edict, and did
not dream that she was committing high treason by using a spindle.
"What are you doing, goody?" cried the princess. "I am spinning, my
pretty dear," replied the old woman, little thinking she was speaking to
a princess. "Oh! how amusing it must be," cried the princess, "I should
so like to try! Pray show me how to set about it." But no sooner had she
taken hold of the spindle, than, being somewhat hasty and careless, and
likewise because the fairies had ordered it to come to pass, she pricked
her hand, and fell down in a dead faint.
[Illustration]
The good old woman becoming alarmed, called aloud for help, and a
number of attendants flocked round the princess, bathed her temples with
water, unlaced her stays, and rubbed the palms of her hands, but all to
no purpose. The king, who had come up stairs on hearing the noise they
made, now recollected what the fairies had foretold, and seeing there
was no help for it, ordered the princess to be laid on a bed,
embroidered in gold and silver, in the most magnificent room in the
palace. She looked as lovely as an angel, while thus lying in state,
though not dead, for the roses of her complexion and the coral of her
lips were unimpaired; and though her eyes remained closed, her gentle
breathing showed she was only slumbering. The king ordered her to be
left quite quiet, until the time should come when she was to awake. The
good fairy who had saved her life, by condemning her to sleep for a
hundred years, was in the kingdom of Mataquin, some twelve thousand
miles off, when the accident occurred; but, having quickly heard the
news through a little dwarf, who possessed a pair of seven-league boots,
she lost no time in coming to see her royal friends, and presently
arrived at the palace in a fiery chariot drawn by dragons. The king went
to hand her out of the carriage. She approved of all he had done; but,
being extremely prudent, she foresaw that when the princess would come
to wake she would be puzzled what to do on finding herself all alone in
a large palace, and therefore adopted the following expedient. She
touched with her wand all the ladies in waiting, maids of honour,
ladies' maids, gentlemen, officers, stewards, cooks, scullions, running
footmen, guards, porters, pages, valets, in short, every human being in
the palace, except their two majesties; she next went into the stables,
and touched all the horses, with their grooms, the large dogs in the
court-yard, and, lastly, the princess's little lapdog, that lay beside
her on the bed. No sooner had she done so, than one and all fell into a
sound sleep that was to last till their mistress should wake, in order
to be ready to attend her the moment she would require their services.
Even the spits before the fire, that were roasting some savoury
partridges and pheasants, seemed in a manner to fall asleep, as well as
the fire itself. And all this was but the work of a moment, fairies
being never very long doing their spiriting.
[Illustration]
The king and queen, after having kissed their beloved child, without
waking her, left the palace, and published a decree forbidding any one
to approach the spot. But this proved quite a needless precaution, for
in a quarter of an hour's time there sprung up all around the park such
a quantity of trees, both great and small, and so thick a tangle of
briars and brambles, that neither man nor beast could have found means
to pass through them; in short, nothing but the topmost turrets of the
castle could be seen, and these were only discernible at a distance. So
that it seemed the fairy was determined the princess's slumber should
not be disturbed by idle curiosity.
At the end of one hundred years, the son of the king who then reigned
over the land, and who did not belong to the same family as the sleeping
princess, happened to go a hunting one day in that neighbourhood, and,
catching a glimpse of the turrets peeping above a thick wood, inquired
what building it was that he saw. Every one answered according to what
they had heard. Some said it was an old castle, that was haunted;
others, that it was a place of meeting for all the witches in the land;
while the most prevailing opinion was, that it belonged to an ogre, who
was in the habit of stealing little children, and carrying them home to
eat them unmolested, and nobody could follow him, since he alone had the
power of penetrating through the thicket. The prince did not know what
to make of all these different accounts, when an old peasant said to
him: "Please your royal highness, it is now above fifty years since I
heard my father tell that the most beautiful princess ever seen was
concealed in this palace, where she was condemned to sleep for a hundred
years, at the end of which she was to be awakened by a king's son, whose
bride she was destined to become."
On hearing this, the young prince's fancy was so inflamed with the hope
of being himself the hero destined to end the enchantment, that he
immediately determined to ascertain how far the legend might prove true.
No sooner did he reach the wood, than the large trees, as well as the
briars and brambles, opened a passage for him of their own accord. He
now advanced towards the castle, which he could perceive at the end of a
long avenue, but, to his surprise, he found that none of his attendants
had been able to follow him, the trees having closed upon them the
moment he had passed through. Nevertheless, he proceeded on his way
without the least concern, for a young prince who begins to feel himself
in love must needs be brave. So he entered the outer court-yard, where
he witnessed a sight that might have appalled one less resolute than
himself. The image of death was everywhere present. The bodies of men
and animals lay strewn about, apparently lifeless, and the silence was
truly awful. Still, he soon perceived, by the rubicund noses and jolly
faces of the porters, that they were only asleep; while their goblets,
still retaining a few drops of wine, proved beyond a doubt that sleep
had surprised them in the midst of a drunken bout. He then passed
through a large court, paved with marble, and entered the guard-room,
where he found a double row of soldiers shouldering their carbines, and
snoring loudly. He next crossed through several rooms, full of ladies
and gentlemen in waiting, some standing and some sitting, but all fast
asleep; and at length entered a gilt chamber, where, upon a magnificent
bed, the curtains of which were drawn back, he saw reclining a princess,
apparently about sixteen, and of the most resplendent beauty that had
ever met his sight. He felt impressed with such admiration for her
loveliness that he could not refrain from bending his knee before her.
[Illustration]
Just at that moment the period of the enchantment came to a close, the
princess awoke, and, looking at him with more fondness than a first
interview would seem to warrant, she exclaimed: "Is it you, dear prince?
How long I've been waiting for you!" The prince was so charmed by these
words, and the manner in which they were uttered, that, feeling quite at
a loss how to express his gratitude and delight, he could only assure
the fair sleeper that he loved her far better than he did himself. But
though he did not make any set speeches, his conversation was only the
more acceptable to the princess, who, on her part, was much less timid
and awkward than her lover, which is not to be wondered at, as we may
fairly conclude that she had had ample time--namely, a century--to
consider what she should say to him, for it is not to be supposed but
what the good fairy gave her agreeable dreams during her long slumber.
However that may be, they now talked for about four hours, without
having said half of what they had to say to each other.
All the inmates of the palace having awoke at the same time as the
princess, each began to discharge the duties of his or her office; and,
as they were not all in love, like their mistress, they felt very
hungry. The lady in waiting, out of all patience, at length told the
princess that supper was ready. The prince then gave her his hand to
help her to rise, for she was ready dressed in the most magnificent
clothes, though he took care not to observe that they were cut on the
pattern of those of his grandmother, and that she wore a ruff, which was
not now in fashion, but she looked quite as beautiful as if her dress
had been more modern.
They then went into the hall of looking-glasses, where they supped to
the sound of music, which was well executed by an orchestra of violins
and hautboys although the tunes they played were at least a century out
of date. After supper, the chaplain united the happy pair, and the next
day they left the old castle and returned to court, where the king was
delighted to welcome back the prince and his lovely bride, who was
thenceforward nicknamed, both by her contemporaries and by the
chroniclers who handed down the legend, the Sleeping Beauty in the Wood.
[Illustration]
THE STORY
OF THE
=Fair One with Golden Locks=.
[Illustration]
=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=
=The Fair One With Golden Locks.=
There was once a princess who had such a beautiful head of hair,
streaming down in curls to her feet, and brilliant as a sunbeam, that
she was universally called the Fair One with Golden Locks. A
neighbouring king, having heard a great deal of her beauty, fell in love
with her upon hearsay, and sent an ambassador with a magnificent suite
to ask her in marriage, bidding him be sure and not fail to bring the
princess home with him. The ambassador did his best to fulfil the king's
commands, and made as fair a speech as he could to persuade the lady;
but, either she was not in a good temper that day, or his eloquence
failed to move her, for she answered, that she thanked the king, but had
no mind to marry. So the ambassador returned home with all the presents
he had brought, as the princess would not accept anything of a suitor
whom she refused, much to the grief of the king, who had made the most
splendid preparations to receive her, never doubting but what she would
come.
[Illustration]
Now there happened to be at court a very handsome young man, named
Avenant, who observed, that had he been sent to the Fair One with Golden
Locks, he would certainly have persuaded her to come; whereupon some
ill-natured persons, who were jealous of the favour he enjoyed, repeated
his words to the king, as though he had meant to boast that, being
handsomer than his majesty, the princess would certainly have followed
him. This threw the king into such a rage, that he ordered poor Avenant
to be thrown into a dungeon, where he had nothing but straw to lie upon,
and where he would have died of exhaustion had it not been for a little
spring that welled forth at the foot of the tower in which he was
confined. One day, when he felt as if he were near his end, he could not
help exclaiming: "What have I done? and what can have hardened the
king's heart against the most faithful of all his subjects?" It chanced
that the king passed by just as he uttered these words, and, being
melted by his former favourite's grief, he ordered the prison door to be
opened, and bid him come forth. Avenant fell at his feet, entreating to
know the cause of his disgrace. "Did you not make game both of myself
and my ambassador?" said the king; "and did you not boast, that had I
sent you to the Fair One with Golden Locks, you would have prevailed on
her to return with you?" "True, Sire," replied Avenant; "for I should
have set forth all your great qualities so irresistibly, that I am
certain she could not have said nay. Methinks there is no treason in
that." The king was so convinced of his innocence, that he straightway
released Avenant from prison and brought him back to the palace. After
having given him a good supper, the king took him into his cabinet, and
confessed to him that he was still so in love with the Fair One with
Golden Locks, that he had a great mind to send him to obtain her hand,
and meant to prepare a splendid equipage befitting the ambassador of a
great nation. But Avenant said: "That is not necessary. Only give me a
good horse and the necessary credentials, and I will set off to-morrow."
On the following morning Avenant left the court, and set out alone on
his journey, thinking as he went of all the fine things he should say to
the princess, and stopping ever and anon, when any pretty conceit came
into his head, to jot it down on his tablets. One day as he halted for
this purpose in a lovely meadow by the side of a rivulet, he perceived a
large golden carp that lay gasping upon the grass, having jumped so high
to snap at the flies, that she had overreached herself, and was unable
to get back into the water. Avenant took pity on her, and, gently
lifting her up, restored her to her native element. The carp took a
plunge to refresh herself, then reappearing on the surface she said:
"Thanks, Avenant, for having saved my life. I will do you a good turn if
ever I can." So saying she dived back into the water, leaving Avenant
greatly surprised at her civility.
Another time, he saw a crow closely pursued by a large eagle, when,
thinking it would be a shame not to defend the weak against the strong,
he let fly an arrow that brought the cruel bird of prey to the ground,
while the crow perched upon a tree in great delight, crying: "It was
very generous of you, Avenant, to help a poor crow like me. But I will
prove grateful, and do you a good turn whenever I can."
[Illustration]
Avenant was pleased with the crow's good feelings and continued his
journey; when, some days after, as he crossed a thick wood, he heard an
owl hooting, as if in great distress. After looking about him on all
sides, Avenant found the poor owl had got entangled in a net. He soon
cut the meshes, and set him free. The owl soared aloft, then, wheeling
back, cried, "Avenant, I was caught, and should have been killed without
your help. But I am grateful, and will do you a good turn when I can."