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THE FAIRY TALES OF CHARLES PERRAULT
Illustrated by Harry Clarke
With an Introduction by Thomas Bodkin
George G. Harrap & Co. Ltd.
2 & 3 Portsmouth Street Kingsway
London. W.C.2.
First published August 1922
CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 9
LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD 21
THE FAIRY 27
BLUE BEARD 35
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY IN THE WOOD 47
THE MASTER CAT; OR, PUSS IN BOOTS 67
CINDERILLA; OR, THE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER 77
RIQUET WITH THE TUFT 93
LITTLE THUMB 109
THE RIDICULOUS WISHES 127
DONKEY-SKIN 137
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
CINDERILLA AND HER PRINCE _Frontispiece_
"HE ASKED HER WHITHER SHE WAS GOING" _facing_ 24
"'WHAT IS THIS I SEE?' SAID HER MOTHER" 28
"'AM I COME HITHER TO SERVE YOU WITH WATER, PRAY?'" _facing_ 30
"'WHAT, IS NOT THE KEY OF MY CLOSET AMONG THE REST?'" 36
"THIS MAN HAD THE MISFORTUNE TO HAVE A BLUE BEARD" _facing_ 38
"AT THIS VERY INSTANT THE YOUNG FAIRY CAME OUT FROM
BEHIND THE HANGINGS" 48
THE PRINCE ENQUIRES OF THE AGED COUNTRYMAN _facing_ 54
"HE SAW, UPON A BED, THE FINEST SIGHT WAS EVER
BEHELD" _facing_ 56
"'I WILL HAVE IT SO,' REPLIED THE QUEEN, 'AND WILL
EAT HER WITH SAUCE ROBERT'" 59
"THE MARQUIS GAVE HIS HAND TO THE PRINCESS, AND
FOLLOWED THE KING, WHO WENT UP FIRST" _facing_ 74
"AWAY SHE DROVE, SCARCE ABLE TO CONTAIN HERSELF FOR JOY" 78
"ANY ONE BUT CINDERILLA WOULD HAVE DRESSED THEIR
HEADS AWRY" _facing_ 80
"SHE LEFT BEHIND ONE OF HER GLASS SLIPPERS, WHICH THE
PRINCE TOOK UP MOST CAREFULLY" 87
"THE PRINCE BELIEVED HE HAD GIVEN HER MORE WITH THAN
HE HAD RESERVED FOR HIMSELF" 99
"RIQUET WITH THE TUFT APPEARED TO HER THE FINEST
PRINCE UPON EARTH" _facing_ 104
"LITTLE THUMB WAS AS GOOD AS HIS WORD, AND RETURNED
THAT SAME NIGHT WITH THE NEWS" 110
"HE BROUGHT THEM HOME BY THE VERY SAME WAY THEY CAME" _facing_ 112
"JUPITER APPEARED BEFORE HIM WIELDING HIS MIGHTY
THUNDERBOLTS" 128
"A LONG BLACK PUDDING CAME WINDING AND WRIGGLING
TOWARDS HER" _facing_ 130
"TRUTH TO TELL, THIS NEW ORNAMENT DID NOT SET OFF HER
BEAUTY" 133
"ANOTHER GOWN THE COLOUR OF THE MOON" 138
"HE THOUGHT THE PRINCESS WAS HIS QUEEN" 143
"CURIOSITY MADE HIM PUT HIS EYE TO THE KEYHOLE" _facing_ 150
INTRODUCTION
"Avec ardeur il aima les beaux arts."
_Griselidis_
_Charles Perrault must have been as charming a fellow as a man could
meet. He was one of the best-liked personages of his own great age,
and he has remained ever since a prime favourite of mankind. We are
fortunate in knowing a great deal about his varied life, deriving our
knowledge mainly from D'Alembert's history of the French Academy and
from his own memoirs, which were written for his grandchildren, but
not published till sixty-six years after his death. We should, I
think, be more fortunate still if the memoirs had not ceased in
mid-career, or if their author had permitted himself to write of his
family affairs without reserve or restraint, in the approved manner of
modern autobiography. We should like, for example, to know much more
than we do about the wife and the two sons to whom he was so devoted._
_Perrault was born in Paris in 1628, the fifth son of Pierre Perrault,
a prosperous parliamentary lawyer; and, at the age of nine, was sent
to a day-school--the Collège de Beauvais. His father helped him with
his lessons at home, as he himself, later on, was accustomed to help
his own children. He can never have been a model schoolboy, though he
was always first in his class, and he ended his school career
prematurely by quarrelling with his master and bidding him a formal
farewell._
_The cause of this quarrel throws a bright light on Perraults
subsequent career. He refused to accept his teacher's philosophical
tenets on the mere ground of their traditional authority. He claimed
that novelty was in itself a merit, and on this they parted. He did
not go alone. One of his friends, a boy called Beaurain, espoused his
cause, and for the next three or four years the two read together,
haphazard, in the Luxembourg Gardens. This plan of study had almost
certainly a bad effect on Beaurain, for we hear no more of him. It
certainly prevented Perrault from being a thorough scholar, though it
made him a man of taste, a sincere independent, and an undaunted
amateur._
_In 1651 he took his degree at the University of Orléans, where
degrees were given with scandalous readiness, payment of fees being
the only essential preliminary. In the mean-time he had walked the
hospitals with some vague notion of following his brother Claude into
the profession of medicine, and had played a small part as a
theological controversialist in the quarrel then raging, about the
nature of grace, between the Jesuits and the Jansenists. Having
abandoned medicine and theology he got called to the Bar, practised
for a while with distinct success, and coquetted with a notion of
codifying the laws of the realm. The Bar proved too arid a profession
to engage for long his attention; so he next sought and found a place
in the office of another brother, Pierre, who was Chief Commissioner
of Taxes in Paris. Here Perrault had little to do save to read at
large in the excellent library which his brother had formed._
_For want of further occupation he returned to the writing of verse,
one of the chief pleasures of his boyhood. His first sustained
literary effort had been a parody of the sixth book of the "Æneid";
which, perhaps fortunately for his reputation, was never published and
has not survived. Beaurain and his brother Nicholas, a doctor of the
Sorbonne, assisted him in this perpetration, and Claude made the
pen-and-ink sketches with which it was illustrated. In the few years
that had elapsed since the writing of this burlesque Perrault had
acquired more sense and taste, and his new poems--in particular the
"Portrait d'Iris" and the "Dialogue entre l'Amour et l'Amitié"--were
found charming by his contemporaries. They were issued anonymously,
and Quinault, himself a poet of established reputation, used some of
them to forward his suit with a young lady, allowing her to think that
they were his own. Perrault, when told of Quinault's pretensions,
deemed it necessary to disclose his authorship; but, on hearing of the
use to which his work had been put, he gallantly remained in the
background, forgave the fraud, and made a friend of the culprit._
_Architecture next engaged his attention, and in 1657 he designed a
house at Viry for his brother and supervised its construction. Colbert
approved so much of this performance that he employed him in the
superintendence of the royal buildings and put him in special charge
of Versailles, which was then in process of erection. Perrault flung
himself with ardour into this work, though not to the exclusion of his
other activities. He wrote odes in honour of the King; he planned
designs for Gobelin tapestries and decorative paintings; he became a
member of the select little Academy of Medals and Inscriptions which
Colbert brought into being to devise suitable legends for the royal
palaces and monuments; he encouraged musicians and fought the cause of
Lulli; he joined with Claude in a successful effort to found the
Academy of Science._
_Claude Perrault had something of his brother's versatility and shared
his love for architecture, and the two now became deeply interested in
the various schemes which were mooted for the completion of the
Louvre. Bernini was summoned by the King from Rome, and entrusted with
the task; but the brothers Perrault intervened. Charles conceived the
idea of the great east front and communicated it to Claude, who drew
the plans and was commissioned to carry them out. The work was
finished in 1671, and is still popularly known as Perrault's
Colonnade._
_In the same year Charles was elected to the Academy without any
personal canvas on his part for the honour. His inaugural address was
heard with such approval that he ventured to suggest that the
inauguration of future members should be a public function. The
suggestion was adopted, and these addresses became the most famous
feature of the Academy's proceedings and are so to the present day.
This was not his only service to the Academy, for he carried a motion
to the effect that future elections should be by ballot; and invented
and provided, at his own expense, a ballot-box which, though he does
not describe it, was probably the model of those in use in all modern
clubs and societies._
_The novelty of his views did not always commend them to his brother
'Immortals.' Those expressed in his poem "Le Siècle de Louis XIV,"
which he read as an Academician of sixteen years' standing, initiated
one of the most famous and lasting literary quarrels of the era.
Perrault, in praising the writers of his own age, ventured to
disparage some of the great authors of the ancient classics. Boileau
lashed himself into a fury of opposition and hurled strident insults
against the heretic. Racine, more adroit, pretended to think that the
poem was a piece of ingenious irony. Most men of letters hastened to
participate in the battle. No doubt Perrault's position was untenable,
but he conducted his defence with perfect temper and much wit; and
Boileau made himself not a little absurd by his violence and his
obvious longing to display the extent of his learning. Perrault's case
is finally stated in his four volumes, "Le Parallèle des Anciens et
des Modernes," which were published in 1688-1696. He evidently took
vastly more pride in this dull and now almost forgotten work than in
the matchless stories which have made him famous for ever._
_After twenty years in the service of Colbert, the sun of Perrault's
fortunes passed its zenith. His brother, the Commissioner of Taxes,
had a dispute with the Minister and was disgraced. Then Perrault got
married to a young lady of whom we know nothing except that her
marriage was the subject of some opposition from his powerful
employer. In a matter of the sort Perrault, though a courtier, could
be relied on to consider no wishes save those of his future wife and
himself. Colbert's own influence with the King became shaky, and this
affected his temper. So Perrault, then just fifty-five, slid quietly
from his service in the year 1683._
_Before he went, he succeeded in frustrating a project for closing the
Tuileries Gardens against the people of Paris and their children.
Colbert proposed to reserve them to the royal use, but Perrault
persuaded him to come there one day for a walk, showed him the
citizens taking the air and playing with their children; got the
gardeners to testify that these privileges were never abused, and
carried his point by declaring, finally, that "the King's pleasaunce
was so spacious that there was room for all his children to walk
there."_
_Sainte-Beuve, seventy years ago, pleaded that this service to the
children of Paris should be commemorated by a statue of Perrault in
the centre of the Tuileries. The statue has never been erected; and,
to the present day, Paris, so plentifully provided with statues and
pictures of the great men of France, has neither the one nor the other
to show that she appreciates the genius of Perrault. Indeed, there is
no statue of him in existence; and the only painting of him with which
I am acquainted is a doubtful one hung far away in an obscure corner
of the palace of Versailles._
_The close of Perrault's official career marked the beginning of his
period of greatest literary activity. In 1686 he published his long
narrative poem "Saint Paulin Evesque de Nole" with "a Christian Epistle
upon Penitence" and "an Ode to the Newly-converted," which he dedicated
to Bossuet. Between the years 1688 and 1696 appeared the "Parallèle des
Anciens et des Modernes" to which I have already referred. In 1693 he
brought out his "Cabinet des Beaux Arts," beautifully illustrated by
engravings, and containing a poem on painting which even Boileau
condescended to admire. In 1694 he published his "Apologie des Femmes."
He wrote two comedies--"L'Oublieux" in 1691, and "Les Fontanges." These
were not printed till 1868. They added nothing to his reputation.
Between 1691 and 1697 were composed the immortal "Histoires ou Contes du
Temps Passé" and the "Contes en Vers." Toward the end of his life he
busied himself with the "Éloges des Hommes Illustres du Siècle de Louis
XIV." The first of these two stately volumes came out in 1696 and the
second in 1700. They were illustrated by a hundred and two excellent
engravings, including one, by Edelinck, of Perrault himself and another
of his brother Claude. These biographies are written with kindly
justice, and form a valuable contribution to the history of the reign of
the Roi Soleil. I have not exhausted the list of Perrault's writings,
but, to speak frankly, the rest are not worth mentioning._
_He died, aged seventy-five, in 1703, deservedly admired and regretted
by all who knew him. This was not strange. For he was clever, honest,
courteous, and witty. He did his duty to his family, his employer, his
friends, and to the public at large. In an age of great men, but also
of great prejudices, he fought his own way to fame and fortune. He
served all the arts, and practised most of them. Painters, writers,
sculptors, musicians, and men of science all gladly made him free of
their company. As a good Civil Servant he was no politician, and he
showed no leaning whatever toward what was regarded in his time as the
greatest of all professions--that of arms. These two deficiencies, if
deficiencies they be, only endear him the more to us. Every one likes
a man who deserves to enjoy life and does, in fact, enjoy it. Perrault
was such a man. He was more. He was the cause of enjoyment to
countless of his fellows, and his stories still promise enjoyment to
countless others to come._
_It is amazing to remember that Perrault was rather ashamed of his
"Histoires ou Contes du Temps Passé"--perhaps better known as "Les
Contes de ma Mère l'Oye," or "Mother Goose's Tales," from the rough
print which was inserted as a frontispiece to the first collected
edition in 1697. He would not even publish them in his own name. They
were declared to be by P. Darmancour, Perrault's young son. In order
that the secret might be well kept, Perrault abandoned his usual
publisher, Coignard, and went to Barbin. The stories had previously
appeared from time to time, anonymously, in Moetjens' little magazine
the "Recueil," which was published from The Hague. "La Belle au Bois
Dormant" ("Sleeping Beauty") was the first: and in rapid succession
followed "Le Petit Chaperon Rouge" ("Red Riding-Hood"), "Le Maistre
Chat, ou le Chat Botté" ("Puss in Boots"), "Les Fées" ("The Fairy"),
"Cendrillon, ou la Petite Pantoufle de Verre" ("Cinderella"), "Riquet
à la Houppe" ("Riquet of the Tuft"), and "Le Petit Poucet" ("Tom
Thumb")._
_Perrault was not so shy in admitting the authorship of his three
verse stories--"Griselidis," "Les Souhaits Ridicules," and "Peau
d'Asne." The first appeared, anonymously it is true, in 1691; but,
when it came to be reprinted with "Les Souhaits Ridicules" and "Peau
d'Asne" in 1695, they were entrusted to the firm of Coignard and
described as being by "Mr Perrault, de l'Academie Françoise." La
Fontaine had made a fashion of this sort of exercise._
_It would not be fair to assume that P. Darmancour had no connection
whatever with the composition of the stories which bore his name. The
best of Perrault's critics, Paul de St Victor and Andrew Lang among
others, see in the book a marvellous collaboration of crabbed age and
youth. The boy, probably, gathered the stories from his nurse and
brought them to his father, who touched them up, and toned them down,
and wrote them out. Paul Lacroix, in his fine edition of 1886, goes as
far as to attribute the entire authorship of the prose tales to
Perrault's son. He deferred, however, to universal usage when he
entitled his volume "Les Contes en prose de Charles Perrault."_
_"Les Contes du Temps Passé" had an immediate success. Imitators
sprung up at once by the dozen, and still persist; but none of them
has ever rivalled, much less surpassed, the inimitable originals.
Every few years a new and sumptuous edition appears in France. The
best are probably those by Paul Lacroix and André le Fèvre._
_The stories soon crossed the Channel; and a translation "by Mr
Samber, printed for J. Pote" was advertised in the "Monthly Chronicle"
of 1729. "Mr Samber" was presumably one Robert Samber of New Inn, who
translated other tales from the French, for Edmond Curl the
bookseller, about this time. No copy of the first edition of his
Perrault is known to exist. Yet it won a wide popularity, as is shown
by the fact that there was a seventh edition published in 1795, for J.
Rivington, a bookseller, of Pearl Street, New York._
_No English translation of Perrault's fairy tales has attained
unquestioned literary pre-eminence. So the publishers of the present
book have thought it best to use Samber's translation, which has a
special interest of its own in being almost contemporary with the
original. The text has been thoroughly revised and corrected by Mr J.
E. Mansion, who has purged it of many errors without detracting from
its old-fashioned quality. To Mr Mansion also is due the credit for
the translation of the "Les Souhaits Ridicules" and for the adaptation
of "Peau d'Asne." "Griselidis" is excluded from this book for two good
reasons; firstly, because it is an admitted borrowing by Perrault from
Boccaccio; secondly, because it is not a 'fairy' tale in the true
sense of the word._
_It is, perhaps, unnecessary for me to add anything about Mr Clarke's
illustrations. Many of the readers of this book will be already
familiar with his work. Besides, I always feel that it is an
impertinence to describe pictures in their presence. Mr Clarke's speak
for themselves. They speak for Perrault too. It is seldom, indeed,
that an illustrator enters so thoroughly into the spirit of his text.
The grace, delicacy, urbanity, tenderness, and humour which went to
the making of Perrault's stories must, it seems, have also gone in
somewhat similar proportions to the making of these delightful
drawings. I am sure that they would have given pleasure to Perrault
himself._
_THOMAS BODKIN_
[Illustration]
_Little Red Riding-Hood_
[Illustration]
Little Red Riding-Hood
Once upon a time, there lived in a certain village, a little country
girl, the prettiest creature was ever seen. Her mother was excessively
fond of her; and her grand-mother doated on her much more. This good
woman got made for her a little red riding-hood; which became the girl
so extremely well, that every body called her Little Red Riding-Hood.
One day, her mother, having made some girdle-cakes, said to her:
"Go, my dear, and see how thy grand-mamma does, for I hear she has
been very ill, carry her a girdle-cake, and this little pot of
butter."
Little Red Riding-Hood set out immediately to go to her grand-mother,
who lived in another village. As she was going thro' the wood, she met
with Gaffer Wolf, who had a very great mind to eat her up, but he
durst not, because of some faggot-makers hard by in the forest.
He asked her whither she was going. The poor child, who did not know
that it was dangerous to stay and hear a Wolf talk, said to him:
"I am going to see my grand-mamma, and carry her a girdle-cake, and a
little pot of butter, from my mamma."
"Does she live far off?" said the Wolf.
"Oh! ay," answered Little Red Riding-Hood, "it is beyond that mill
you see there, at the first house in the village."
"Well," said the Wolf, "and I'll go and see her too: I'll go this way,
and you go that, and we shall see who will be there soonest."
The Wolf began to run as fast as he could, taking the nearest way; and
the little girl went by that farthest about, diverting herself in
gathering nuts, running after butterflies, and making nosegays of such
little flowers as she met with. The Wolf was not long before he got to
the old woman's house: he knocked at the door, _tap, tap_.
"Who's there?"
"Your grand-child, Little Red Riding-Hood," replied the Wolf,
counterfeiting her voice, "who has brought you a girdle-cake, and a
little pot of butter, sent you by mamma."
The good grand-mother, who was in bed, because she found herself
somewhat ill, cry'd out:
"Pull the peg, and the bolt will fall."
The Wolf pull'd the peg, and the door opened, and then presently he
fell upon the good woman, and ate her up in a moment; for it was above
three days that he had not touched a bit. He then shut the door, and
went into the grand-mother's bed, expecting Little Red Riding-Hood,
who came some time afterwards, and knock'd at the door, _tap, tap_.
"Who's there?"
[Illustration: "HE ASKED HER WHITHER SHE WAS GOING"]
Little Red Riding-Hood, hearing the big voice of the Wolf, was at
first afraid; but believing her grand-mother had got a cold, and was
hoarse, answered:
"'Tis your grand-child, Little Red Riding-Hood, who has brought you a
girdle-cake, and a little pot of butter, mamma sends you."
The Wolf cried out to her, softening his voice as much as he could,
"Pull the peg, and the bolt will fall."
Little Red Riding-Hood pulled the peg, and the door opened. The Wolf
seeing her come in, said to her, hiding himself under the bedclothes:
"Put the cake, and the little pot of butter upon the bread-bin, and
come and lye down with me."
Little Red Riding-Hood undressed herself, and went into bed; where,
being greatly amazed to see how her grand-mother looked in her
night-cloaths, she said to her:
"Grand-mamma, what great arms you have got!"
"That is the better to hug thee, my dear."
"Grand-mamma, what great legs you have got!"
"That is to run the better, my child."
"Grand-mamma, what great ears you have got!"
"That is to hear the better, my child."
"Grand-mamma, what great eyes you have got!"
"It is to see the better, my child."
"Grand-mamma, what great teeth you have got!"
"That is to eat thee up."
And, saying these words, this wicked Wolf fell upon poor Little Red
Riding-Hood, and ate her all up.
_The Moral_
_From this short story easy we discern
What conduct all young people ought to learn.
But above all, young, growing misses fair,
Whose orient rosy blooms begin t'appear:
Who, beauties in the fragrant spring of age,
With pretty airs young hearts are apt t'engage.
Ill do they listen to all sorts of tongues,
Since some inchant and lure like Syrens' songs.
No wonder therefore 'tis, if over-power'd,
So many of them has the Wolf devour'd.
The Wolf, I say, for Wolves too sure there are
Of every sort, and every character.
Some of them mild and gentle-humour'd be,
Of noise and gall, and rancour wholly free;
Who tame, familiar, full of complaisance
Ogle and leer, languish, cajole and glance;
With luring tongues, and language wond'rous sweet,
Follow young ladies as they walk the street,
Ev'n to their very houses, nay, bedside,
And, artful, tho' their true designs they hide;
Yet ah! these simpering Wolves! Who does not see
Most dangerous of Wolves indeed they be?_
_The Fairy_
[Illustration]
[Illustration: "'WHAT IS THIS I SEE?' SAID HER MOTHER"
(_page 30_)]
The Fairy
There was, once upon a time, a widow, who had two daughters. The
eldest was so much like her in the face and humour, that whoever
looked upon the daughter saw the mother. They were both so
disagreeable, and so proud, that there was no living with them. The
youngest, who was the very picture of her father, for courtesy and
sweetness of temper, was withal one of the most beautiful girls ever
seen. As people naturally love their own likeness, this mother even
doated on her eldest daughter, and at the same time had a horrible
aversion for the youngest. She made her eat in the kitchen, and work
continually.
Among other things, this poor child was forced twice a day to draw
water above a mile and a half off the house, and bring home a pitcher
full of it. One day, as she was at this fountain, there came to her a
poor woman, who begged of her to let her drink.
"O ay, with all my heart, Goody," said this pretty maid; and rinsing
immediately the pitcher, she took up some water from the clearest
place of the fountain, and gave it to her, holding up the pitcher all
the while, that she might drink the easier.
The good woman having drank, said to her:
"You are so very pretty, my dear, so good and so mannerly, that I
cannot help giving you a gift" (for this was a Fairy, who had taken
the form of a poor country-woman, to see how far the civility and
good manners of this pretty girl would go). "I will give you for
gift," continued the Fairy, "that at every word you speak, there shall
come out of your mouth either a flower, or a jewel."
When this pretty girl came home, her mother scolded at her for staying
so long at the fountain.
"I beg your pardon, mamma," said the poor girl, "for not making more
haste," and, in speaking these words, there came out of her mouth two
roses, two pearls, and two diamonds.
"What is this I see?" said her mother quite astonished, "I think I see
pearls and diamonds come out of the girl's mouth! How happens this,
child?" (This was the first time she ever called her child.)
The poor creature told her frankly all the matter, not without
dropping out infinite numbers of diamonds.
"In good faith," cried the mother, "I must send my child thither. Come
hither, Fanny, look what comes out of thy sister's mouth when she
speaks! Would'st not thou be glad, my dear, to have the same gift
given to thee? Thou hast nothing else to do but go and draw water out
of the fountain, and when a certain poor woman asks thee to let her
drink, to give it her very civilly."
"It would be a very fine sight indeed," said this ill-bred minx, "to
see me go draw water!"
"You shall go, hussey," said the mother, "and this minute."
[Illustration: "'AM I COME HITHER TO SERVE YOU WITH WATER, PRAY?'"]
So away she went, but grumbling all the way, taking with her the best
silver tankard in the house.
She was no sooner at the fountain, than she saw coming out of the wood
a lady most gloriously dressed, who came up to her, and asked to
drink. This was, you must know, the very Fairy who appeared to her
sister, but had now taken the air and dress of a princess, to see how
far this girl's rudeness would go.
"Am I come hither," said the proud, saucy slut, "to serve you with
water, pray? I suppose the silver tankard was brought purely for your
ladyship, was it? However, you may drink out of it, if you have a
fancy."
"You are not over and above mannerly," answered the Fairy, without
putting herself in a passion. "Well then, since you have so little
breeding, and are so disobliging, I give you for gift, that at every
word you speak there shall come out of your mouth a snake or a toad."
So soon as her mother saw her coming, she cried out: "Well, daughter?"
"Well, mother?" answered the pert hussey, throwing out of her mouth
two vipers and two toads.
"O mercy!" cried the mother, "what is it I see! O, it is that wretch
her sister who has occasioned all this; but she shall pay for it"; and
immediately she ran to beat her. The poor child fled away from her and
went to hide herself in the forest, not far from thence.
The King's son, then on his return from hunting, met her, and seeing
her so very pretty, asked her what she did there alone, and why she
cried.
"Alas! sir, my mamma has turned me out of doors."
The King's son, who saw five or six pearls, and as many diamonds, come
out of her mouth, desired her to tell him how that happened. She
thereupon told him the whole story; and so the King's son fell in love
with her; and, considering with himself that such a gift was worth
more than any marriage-portion whatsoever in another, conducted her to
the palace of the King his father, and there married her.
As for her sister, she made herself so much hated that her own mother
turned her off; and the miserable wretch, having wandered about a good
while without finding anybody to take her in, went to a corner in the
wood and there died.
[Illustration]
_The Moral_
_Money and jewels still, we find,
Stamp strong impressions on the mind.
But sweet discourse more potent riches yields;
Of higher value is the pow'r it wields._
_Another_
_Civil behaviour costs indeed some pains,
Requires of complaisance some little share;
But soon or late its due reward it gains,
And meets it often when we're not aware._
_Blue Beard_
[Illustration]
[Illustration: "'WHAT, IS NOT THE KEY OF MY CLOSET AMONG
THE REST?'" (_page 40_)]
Blue Beard
There was a man who had fine houses, both in town and country, a deal
of silver and gold plate, embroidered furniture, and coaches gilded
all over with gold. But this man had the misfortune to have a blue
beard, which made him so frightfully ugly, that all the women and
girls ran away from him.
One of his neighbours, a lady of quality, had two daughters who were
perfect beauties. He desired of her one of them in marriage, leaving
to her the choice which of the two she would bestow upon him. They
would neither of them have him, and each made the other welcome of
him, being not able to bear the thought of marrying a man who had a
blue beard. And what besides gave them disgust and aversion, was his
having already been married to several wives, and nobody ever knew
what became of them.
Blue Beard, to engage their affection, took them, with the lady their
mother, and three or four ladies of their acquaintance, with other
young people of the neighbourhood, to one of his country seats, where
they stayed a whole week. There was nothing then to be seen but
parties of pleasure, hunting, fishing, dancing, mirth and feasting.
Nobody went to bed, but all passed the night in playing tricks upon
each other. In short, every thing succeeded so well, that the youngest
daughter began to think the master of the house not to have a beard so
very blue, and that he was a mighty civil gentleman. As soon as they
returned home, the marriage was concluded.
About a month afterwards Blue Beard told his wife that he was obliged
to take a country journey for six weeks at least, about affairs of
very great consequence, desiring her to divert herself in his absence,
to send for her friends and acquaintances, to carry them into the
country, if she pleased, and to make good cheer wherever she was.
"Here," said he, "are the keys of the two great wardrobes, wherein I
have my best furniture; these are of my silver and gold plate, which
is not every day in use; these open my strong boxes, which hold my
money, both gold and silver; these my caskets of jewels; and this is
the master-key to all my apartments. But for this little one here, it
is the key of the closet at the end of the great gallery on the ground
floor. Open them all; go into all and every one of them; except that
little closet which I forbid you, and forbid it in such a manner that,
if you happen to open it, there will be no bounds to my just anger and
resentment."
She promised to observe, very exactly, whatever he had ordered; when
he, after having embraced her, got into his coach and proceeded on his
journey.
[Illustration: "THIS MAN HAD THE MISFORTUNE TO HAVE A BLUE BEARD"]
Her neighbours and good friends did not stay to be sent for by the
newmarried lady, so great was their impatience to see all the rich
furniture of her house, not daring to come while her husband was
there, because of his blue beard which frightened them. They ran thro'
all the rooms, closets, and wardrobes, which were all so rich and
fine, that they seemed to surpass one another.
After that, they went up into the two great rooms, where were the best
and richest furniture; they could not sufficiently admire the number
and beauty of the tapestry, beds, couches, cabinets, stands, tables,
and looking-glasses in which you might see yourself from head to foot;
some of them were framed with glass, others with silver, plain and
gilded, the finest and most magnificent which were ever seen. They
ceased not to extol and envy the happiness of their friend, who in the
mean time no way diverted herself in looking upon all these rich
things, because of the impatience she had to go and open the closet of
the ground floor. She was so much pressed by her curiosity, that,
without considering that it was very uncivil to leave her company, she
went down a little back-stair-case, and with such excessive haste,
that she had twice or thrice like to have broken her neck.
Being come to the closet door, she made a stop for some time, thinking
upon her husband's orders, and considering what unhappiness might
attend her if she was disobedient; but the temptation was so strong
she could not overcome it. She took then the little key, and opened it
trembling; but could not at first see any thing plainly, because the
windows were shut. After some moments she began to perceive that the
floor was all covered over with clotted blood, in which were reflected
the bodies of several dead women ranged against the walls: these were
all the wives whom Blue Beard had married and murdered one after
another. She was like to have died for fear, and the key, which she
pulled out of the lock, fell out of her hand.
* * * * *
After having somewhat recovered her senses, she took up the key,
locked the door, and went up stairs into her chamber to recover
herself; but she could not, so much was she frightened. Having
observed that the key of the closet was stained with blood, she tried
two or three times to wipe it off, but the blood would not come off;
in vain did she wash it, and even rub it with soap and sand, the blood
still remained, for the key was a Fairy, and she could never make it
quite clean; when the blood was gone off from one side, it came again
on the other.
Blue Beard returned from his journey the same evening, and said, he
had received letters upon the road, informing him that the affair he
went about was ended to his advantage. His wife did all she could to
convince him she was extremely glad of his speedy return. Next morning
he asked her for the keys, which she gave him, but with such a
trembling hand, that he easily guessed what had happened.
"What," said he, "is not the key of my closet among the rest?"
"I must certainly," answered she, "have left it above upon the table."
"Fail not," said Blue Beard, "to bring it me presently."
After putting him off several times, she was forced to bring him the
key. Blue Beard, having very attentively considered it, said to his
wife:
"How comes this blood upon the key?"
"I do not know," cried the poor woman, paler than death.
"You do not know," replied Blue Beard; "I very well know, you were
resolved to go into the closet, were you not? Mighty well, Madam; you
shall go in, and take your place among the ladies you saw there."
Upon this she threw herself at her husband's feet, and begged his
pardon with all the signs of a true repentance for her disobedience.
She would have melted a rock, so beautiful and sorrowful was she; but
Blue Beard had a heart harder than any rock.
"You must die, Madam," said he, "and that presently."
"Since I must die," answered she, looking upon him with her eyes all
bathed in tears, "give me some little time to say my prayers."
"I give you," replied Blue Beard, "half a quarter of an hour, but not
one moment more."
* * * * *
When she was alone, she called out to her sister, and said to her:
"Sister Anne" (for that was her name), "go up I beg you, upon the top
of the tower, and look if my brothers are not coming; they promised me
that they would come to-day, and if you see them, give them a sign to
make haste."
Her sister Anne went up upon the top of the tower, and the poor
afflicted wife cried out from time to time, "Anne, sister Anne, do you
see any one coming?"
And sister Anne said:
"I see nothing but the sun, which makes a dust, and the grass growing
green."
In the mean while Blue Beard, holding a great scimitar in his hand,
cried out as loud as he could bawl to his wife:
"Come down instantly, or I shall come up to you."
"One moment longer, if you please," said his wife, and then she cried
out very softly:
"Anne, sister Anne, dost thou see any body coming?"
And sister Anne answered:
"I see nothing but the sun, which makes a dust, and the grass growing
green."
"Come down quickly," cried Blue Beard, "or I will come up to you."
"I am coming," answered his wife; and then she cried:
"Anne, sister Anne, dost thou see any one coming?"
"I see," replied sister Anne, "a great dust that comes this way."
"Are they my brothers?"
"Alas! no, my dear sister, I see a flock of sheep."
"Will you not come down?" cried Blue Beard.
"One moment longer," said his wife, and then she cried out:
"Anne, sister Anne, dost thou see nobody coming?"
"I see," said she, "two horsemen coming, but they are yet a great way
off."
"God be praised," she cried presently, "they are my brothers; I am
beckoning to them, as well as I can, for them to make haste."
Then Blue Beard bawled out so loud, that he made the whole house
tremble. The distressed wife came down, and threw herself at his feet,
all in tears, with her hair about her shoulders.
"Nought will avail," said Blue Beard, "you must die"; then, taking
hold of her hair with one hand, and lifting up his scimitar with the
other, he was going to take off her head.
The poor lady turning about to him, and looking at him with dying
eyes, desired him to afford her one little moment to recollect
herself.
"No, no," said he, "recommend thyself to God," and was just ready to
strike.
At this very instant there was such a loud knocking at the gate, that
Blue Beard made a sudden stop. The gate was opened, and presently
entered two horsemen, who drawing their swords, ran directly to Blue
Beard. He knew them to be his wife's brothers, one a dragoon, the
other a musqueteer; so that he ran away immediately to save himself;
but the two brothers pursued so close, that they overtook him before
he could get to the steps of the porch, when they ran their swords
thro' his body and left him dead. The poor wife was almost as dead as
her husband, and had not strength enough to rise and welcome her
brothers.
Blue Beard had no heirs, and so his wife became mistress of all his
estate. She made use of one part of it to marry her sister Anne to a
young gentleman who had loved her a long while; another part to buy
captains' commissions for her brothers; and the rest to marry herself
to a very worthy gentleman, who made her forget the ill time she had
passed with Blue Beard.
[Illustration]
_The Moral_
_O curiosity, thou mortal bane!
Spite of thy charms, thou causest often pain
And sore regret, of which we daily find
A thousand instances attend mankind:
For thou--O may it not displease the fair--
A fleeting pleasure art, but lasting care.
And always proves, alas! too dear the prize,
Which, in the moment of possession, dies._
_Another_
_A very little share of common sense,
And knowledge of the world, will soon evince
That this a story is of time long pass'd;
No husbands now such panic terrors cast;
Nor weakly, with a vain despotic hand,
Imperious, what's impossible, command:
And be they discontented, or the fire
Of wicked jealousy their hearts inspire,
They softly sing; and of whatever hue
Their beards may chance to be, or black, or blue,
Grizeld, or russet, it is hard to say
Which of the two, the man or wife, bears sway._
_The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood_
[Illustration]
[Illustration: "AT THIS VERY INSTANT THE YOUNG FAIRY CAME OUT FROM
BEHIND THE HANGINGS" (_page 50_)]
The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood
There were formerly a King and a Queen, who were so sorry that they
had no children, so sorry that it cannot be expressed. They went to
all the waters in the world; vows, pilgrimages, all ways were tried
and all to no purpose. At last, however, the Queen proved with child,
and was brought to bed of a daughter. There was a very fine
christening; and the Princess had for her godmothers all the Fairies
they could find in the whole kingdom (they found seven), that every
one of them might give her a gift, as was the custom of Fairies in
those days, and that by this means the Princess might have all the
perfections imaginable.
After the ceremonies of the christening were over, all the company
returned to the King's palace, where was prepared a great feast for
the Fairies. There was placed before every one of them a magnificent
cover with a case of massive gold, wherein were a spoon, knife and
fork, all of pure gold set with diamonds and rubies. But as they were
all sitting down at table, they saw come into the hall a very old
Fairy whom they had not invited, because it was above fifty years
since she had been out of a certain tower, and she was believed to be
either dead or inchanted. The King ordered her a cover, but could not
furnish her with a case of gold as the others, because they had seven
only made for the seven Fairies. The old Fairy fancied she was
slighted, and muttered some threat between her teeth. One of the young
Fairies, who sat by her, overheard how she grumbled; and judging that
she might give the little Princess some unlucky gift, went, as soon as
they rose from the table, and hid herself behind the hangings, that
she might speak last, and repair, as much as possible she could, the
evil which the old Fairy might intend.
In the mean while all the Fairies began to give their gifts to the
Princess. The youngest gave her for gift, that she should be the most
beautiful person in the world; the next, that she should have the wit
of an angel; the third, that she should have a wonderful grace in
every thing she did; the fourth, that she should dance perfectly well;
the fifth, that she should sing like a nightingale; and the sixth,
that she should play upon all kinds of music to the utmost perfection.
The old Fairy's turn coming next, with a head shaking more with spite
than age, she said, that the Princess should have her hand pierced
with a spindle, and die of the wound. This terrible gift made the
whole company tremble, and every body fell a-crying.
At this very instant the young Fairy came out from behind the
hangings, and spake these words aloud:
"Be reassured, O King and Queen; your daughter shall not die of this
disaster: it is true, I have no power to undo intirely what my elder
has done. The Princess shall indeed pierce her hand with a spindle;
but instead of dying, she shall only fall into a profound sleep, which
shall last a hundred years; at the expiration of which a king's son
shall come and awake her."
The King, to avoid the misfortune foretold by the old Fairy, caused
immediately proclamations to be made, whereby every-body was
forbidden, on pain of death, to spin with a distaff and spindle or to
have so much as any spindle in their houses.
About fifteen or sixteen years after, the King and Queen being gone to
one of their houses of pleasure, the young Princess happened one day
to divert herself running up and down the palace; when going up from
one apartment to another, she came into a little room on the top of a
tower, where a good old woman, alone, was spinning with her spindle.
This good woman had never heard of the King's proclamation against
spindles.
"What are you doing there, Goody?" said the Princess.
"I am spinning, my pretty child," said the old woman, who did not know
who she was.
"Ha!" said the Princess, "this is very pretty; how do you do it? Give
it to me, that I may see if I can do so." She had no sooner taken the
spindle into her hand, than, whether being very hasty at it, somewhat
unhandy, or that the decree of the Fairy had so ordained it, it ran
into her hand, and she fell down in a swoon.
The good old woman not knowing very well what to do in this affair,
cried out for help. People came in from every quarter in great
numbers; they threw water upon the Princess's face, unlaced her,
struck her on the palms of her hands, and rubbed her temples with
Hungary-water; but nothing would bring her to herself.
And now the King, who came up at the noise, bethought himself of the
prediction of the Fairies, and judging very well that this must
necessarily come to pass, since the Fairies had said it, caused the
Princess to be carried into the finest apartment in his palace, and to
be laid upon a bed all embroidered with gold and silver. One would
have taken her for an angel, she was so very beautiful; for her
swooning away had not diminished one bit of her complexion; her cheeks
were carnation, and her lips like coral; indeed her eyes were shut,
but she was heard to breathe softly, which satisfied those about her
that she was not dead. The King commanded that they should not disturb
her, but let her sleep quietly till her hour of awakening was come.
The good Fairy, who had saved her life by condemning her to sleep a
hundred years, was in the kingdom of Matakin, twelve thousand leagues
off, when this accident befell the Princess; but she was instantly
informed of it by a little dwarf, who had boots of seven leagues, that
is, boots with which he could tread over seven leagues of ground at
one stride. The Fairy came away immediately, and she arrived, about an
hour after, in a fiery chariot, drawn by dragons. The King handed her
out of the chariot, and she approved every thing he had done; but, as
she had a very great foresight, she thought, when the Princess should
awake, she might not know what to do with herself, being all alone in
this old palace; and this was what she did: She touched with her wand
every thing in the palace (except the King and the Queen),
governesses, maids of honour, ladies of the bedchamber, gentlemen,
officers, stewards, cooks, under-cooks, scullions, guards, with their
beef-eaters, pages, footmen; she likewise touched all the horses which
were in the stables, as well as their grooms, the great dogs in the
outward court, and pretty little Mopsey too, the Princess's little
spaniel-bitch, which lay by her on the bed.
Immediately upon her touching them, they all fell asleep, that they
might not awake before their mistress, and that they might be ready to
wait upon her when she wanted them. The very spits at the fire, as
full as they could hold of partridges and pheasants, did fall asleep,
and the fire likewise. All this was done in a moment. Fairies are not
long in doing their business.
And now the King and the Queen, having kissed their dear child without
waking her, went out of the palace, and put forth a proclamation, that
nobody should dare to come near it. This, however, was not necessary;
for, in a quarter of an hour's time, there grew up, all round about
the park, such a vast number of trees, great and small, bushes and
brambles, twining one within another, that neither man nor beast could
pass thro'; so that nothing could be seen but the very top of the
towers of the palace; and that too, not unless it was a good way off.
Nobody doubted but the Fairy gave herein a sample of her art, that the
Princess, while she continued sleeping, might have nothing to fear
from any curious people.
* * * * *
When a hundred years were gone and past, the son of the King then
reigning, and who was of another family from that of the sleeping
Princess, being gone a-hunting on that side of the country, asked,
what were those towers which he saw in the middle of a great thick
wood? Every one answered according as they had heard; some said that
it was a ruinous old castle, haunted by spirits; others, that all the
sorcerers and witches of the country kept there their sabbath, or
nights meeting. The common opinion was that an Ogre[1] lived there,
and that he carried thither all the little children he could catch,
that he might eat them up at his leisure, without any-body's being
able to follow him, as having himself, only, the power to pass thro'
the wood.
[Footnote 1: OGRE is a giant, with long teeth and claws, with a raw
head and bloody-bones, who runs away with naughty little boys and
girls, and eats them up. [Note by the translator.]]