Now let us leave the afflicted fairies, and turn our attention to the horse, which ran away at full speed. Who happened to pass at that moment? The son of a king (the name of this king is not known);
Oh, I’ve been through the desert on a king with no name...
and saw this horse with that wonder on its back. Then the king began to spur his horse, and rode him so hard that he killed him, and had to leave him dead in the road; but the king kept running after the other horse.
I like to think the eagle came by and ate the dead horse. Possibly with basil.
The poor king could endure it no longer; he saw himself lost, and exclaimed, “Stop, for pity’s sake, for I have lost my horse for you!”
Then the horse stopped (for those were the words). When the king saw that beautiful girl dead in the casket, he thought no more about his own horse, but took the other to the city. The king’s mother knew that her son had gone hunting; when she saw him returning with this loaded horse, she did not know what to think. The son had no father, wherefore he was all powerful.
I thought he was the son of a king, but apparently he’s actually the king, or something like that, with a dowager queen in residence.
He reached the palace, had the horse unloaded, and the casket carried to his chamber; then he called his mother and said, “Mother, I went hunting, but I have found a wife.”
“But what is it? A doll? A dead woman?”
“Mother,” replied her son, “don’t trouble yourself about what it is, it is my wife.”
Necrophilia or real doll action? It’s hard to tell, because they start calling her “the doll” later on almost exclusively.
His mother began to laugh, and withdrew to her own room (what could she do, poor mother?).
Ha ha ha my son’s lost his shit oh god ha ha I need a drink ...
Now this poor king no longer went hunting, took no diversion, did not even go to the table, but ate in his own room. By a fatality it happened that war was declared against him, and he was obliged to depart. He called his mother, and said, “Mother, I wish two careful chambermaids, whose business it shall be to guard this casket; for if on my return I find that anything has happened to my casket, I shall have the chambermaids killed.”
“Chambermaids killed. Got it,” she said, heading for the liquor cabinet.
His mother, who loved him, said, “Go, my son, fear nothing, for I myself will watch over your casket.”
Do those people who get really into their real doll thingies and talk to them and claim they’re married ever take them to meet their mothers? Does Mom have to sit through dinner with the real doll at the table? That’s sort of what I’m picturing here. “Oh, sure, yeah, I’ll take care of your uh, “wife.” I’m sure we’ll ... um ... have a fine time. Yes. You go fight your war, dear. Damn, these bottles do not last as long as they used to, do they?”
He wept several days at being obliged to abandon this treasure of his, but there was no help for it, he had to go. After his departure he did nothing but commend his wife (so he called her) to his mother in his letters.
“Oh look, another letter from Junior. Majordomo! Send me up another bottle of the red. And the white. And those little butter cookies I like.”
Let us return to the mother, who no longer thought about the matter, not even to have the casket dusted; but all at once there came a letter which informed her that the king had been victorious, and should return to his palace in a few days. The mother called the chambermaids, and said to them, “Girls, we are ruined.”
They replied, “Why, Highness?”
“Because my son will be back in a few days, and how have we taken care of the doll?”
“In retrospect, using it for target practice was ill-advised.”
They answered, “True, true; now let us go and wash the doll’s face.”
They went to the king’s room and saw that the doll’s face and hands were covered with dust and fly specks, so they took a sponge and washed her face, but some drops of water fell on her dress and spotted it.
Apparently this was not a tightly sealed crystal casket, if the flies got in. Also, eww.
The poor chambermaids began to weep, and went to the queen for advice.
“You better have brought wine, girls. Momma’s going through a rough patch on the family front.”
The queen said, “Do you know what to do! Call a tailoress, and have a dress precisely like this bought, and take off this one before my son comes.”
This is the fairy tale equivalent of buying an identical goldfish.
They did so, and the chambermaids went to the room and began to unbutton the dress. The moment that they took off the first sleeve, Ermellina opened her eyes. The poor chambermaids sprang up in terror, but one of the most courageous said, “I am a woman, and so is this one; she will not eat me.”
She clearly hasn’t been reading enough fairy tales!
To cut the matter short, she took off the dress, and when it was removed Ermellina began to get out of the casket to walk about and see where she was. The chambermaids fell on their knees before her and begged her to tell them who she was. She, poor girl, told them the whole story. Then she said, “I wish to know where I am.”
Then the chambermaids called the king’s mother to explain it to her. The mother did not fail to tell her everything, and she, poor girl, did nothing but weep penitently, thinking of what the fairies had done for her.
Well, at least she’s learned from her mistakes, one hopes.
The king was on the point of arriving, and his mother said to the doll, “Come here; put on one of my best dresses.” In short, she arrayed her like a queen. Then came her son. They shut the doll up in a small room, so that she could not be seen.
The fact they’re still calling her “The doll” throws a creepy sort of light over all this.
The king came with great joy, with trumpets blowing, and banners flying for the victory. But he took no interest in all this, and ran at once to his room to see the doll; the chambermaids fell on their knees before him saying that the doll smelled so badly that they could not stay in the palace, and were obliged to bury her.
Incidentally, two of the compounds caused by the putrefaction of flesh are called “putrescine” and “cadaverine.” Which is neither here nor there, but rather interesting.
The king would not listen to this excuse, but at once called two of the palace servants to erect the gallows. His mother comforted him in vain: “My son, it was a dead woman.”
“No, no, I will not listen to any reasons; dead or alive, you should have left it for me.”
Finally, when his mother saw that he was in earnest about the gallows, she rang a little bell, and there came forth no longer the doll, but a very beautiful girl, whose like was never seen.
What I find kind of interesting here is that the queen is obviously lying to keep him from meeting this girl, and only produces her in the end in order to save the two chambermaids from being killed. I could see two reasons for this. One, she doesn’t want him to marry a total stranger with a trash-talking eagle familiar and a pathological fear of basil. This would be quite understandable. On the other hand, I like to think that maybe she realizes that anybody who moons over a maybe-a-doll-but-maybe-a-dead-body in a casket is probably not a good mate for a living woman.
On the gripping hand, maybe she plans to kill him and rule the kingdom with an iron, if somewhat drunken, fist. I would also be good with this option.
The king was amazed, and said, “What is this!”
Then his mother, the chambermaids, and Ermellina were obliged to tell him all that had happened.
Sonny, sweetie, I thought we might be able to smuggle you out of the country on eagle-back. Instead you’re gonna have to stick around. Let me pour you some wine...
He said, “Mother, since I adored her when dead, and called her my wife, now I mean her to be my wife in truth.”
“Yes, my son,” replied his mother, “do so, for I am willing.”
>
You’re sufficiently crazy-pants to kill me if I say no, I expect. Or send me to water the basil. (Maybe this has been a euphemism all along, and “water the basil” is the medieval Italian equivalent of “away in the cornfield.”)
They arranged the wedding, and in a few days were man and wife.
Not to be, um, excessively graphic here, but am I the only person wondering if the king was going to ask her to lay really, really still when ... ugh. Now I’ve squicked myself out. Where’s that wine, again?
The Wonderful Sheep
Okay, gang, even by my standards this one is seriously out there. It starts at “King Lear” and goes straight to bugfuck crazytown. Along the way we encounter ghosts, talking sheep, and an honest-to-god rain of lobster patties. It’s … something.
This particular … thingy … was written by Madame d’Aulnoy of France and published in 1697. (d’Aulnoy also gave us rather more well-known stories, including “The White Cat” which shares some of the same window dressings, although not the rain-of-lobster bits.) This translation is found in Andrew Lang’s Blue Fairy Book, nearly two hundred years later.
Racism in fairy tales is hardly uncommon, but most of it is a sort of in passing commentary (leaving aside things like Orientalism in the Arabian Nights, which is a whole ’nother can of wet herring.) This fairy tale is somewhat unusual in that it has a black character who gets an actual speaking part, which is something I very rarely run across in European fairy tales and might almost be quite progressive … except that she’s relegated to the same role as the talking animal companions, and it gets worse from there. I honestly don’t know enough about the literature of the era to know how exactly to parse this in the context of the day, but it’s sure cringe-worthy now. (If there are any experts on late 17th-century French literature who’d like to weigh in on whether this is the equivalent of the crows in Dumbo or was a legitimate attempt at multiculturalism that comes out agonizing three-hundred-odd years out, the comments are open!)
Seriously, though, the whole story is just messed up. So of course I had to talk about it. Without further ado, then … and I may need alcohol to get through this one … I give you:
ONCE upon a time — in the days when the fairies lived — there was a king who had three daughters, who were all young, and clever, and beautiful; but the youngest of the three, who was called Miranda, was the prettiest and the most beloved.
The King, her father, gave her more dresses and jewels in a month than he gave the others in a year; but she was so generous that she shared everything with her sisters, and they were all as happy and as fond of one another as they could be.
I told you, it’s starting at King Lear. This is totally how Regan and Goneril got started.
Now, the King had some quarrelsome neighbors, who, tired of leaving him in peace, began to make war upon him so fiercely that he feared he would be altogether beaten if he did not make an effort to defend himself. So he collected a great army and set off to fight them, leaving the Princesses with their governess in a castle where news of the war was brought every day — sometimes that the King had taken a town, or won a battle, and, at last, that he had altogether overcome his enemies and chased them out of his kingdom, and was coming back to the castle as quickly as possible, to see his dear little Miranda whom he loved so much.
It occurs to me that there must be quite an astonishing mail system in this kingdom if they’re getting daily news from the front.
The three Princesses put on dresses of satin, which they had had made on purpose for this great occasion, one green, one blue, and the third white; their jewels were the same colors. The eldest wore emeralds, the second turquoises, and the youngest diamonds, and thus adorned they went to meet the King, singing verses which they had composed about his victories.
When he saw them all so beautiful and so gay he embraced them tenderly, but gave Miranda more kisses than either of the others.
Presently a splendid banquet was served, and the King and his daughters sat down to it, and as he always thought that there was some special meaning in everything, he said to the eldest: “Tell me why you have chosen a green dress.”
“Sire,” she answered, “having heard of your victories I thought that green would signify my joy and the hope of your speedy return.”
I have no idea how green is supposed to signify this, but I suspect if you’re living with that sort of person, you learn to make stuff up on the spot.
“That is a very good answer,” said the King, “and you, my daughter,” he continued, “why did you take a blue dress?”
“Sire,” said the Princess, “to show that we constantly hoped for your success, and that the sight of you is as welcome to me as the sky with its most beautiful stars.”
Better answer.
“Why,” said the King, “your wise answers astonish me, and you, Miranda. What made you dress yourself all in white?”
“Because, sire,” she answered, “white suits me better than anything else.”
Not a good answer.
“What!” said the King angrily, “was that all you thought of, vain child?”
“I thought you would be pleased with me,” said the Princess, “that was all.”
The King, who loved her, was satisfied with this, and even pretended to be pleased that she had not told him all her reasons at first.
I am getting bad vibes about the king. He plays favorites and seems to have some weird paranoia going on.
“And now,” said he, “as I have supped well, and it is not time yet to go to bed, tell me what you dreamed last night.”
The eldest said she had dreamed that he brought her a dress, and the precious stones and gold embroidery on it were brighter than the sun.
The dream of the second was that the King had brought her a spinning wheel and a distaff, that she might spin him some shirts.
But the youngest said: “I dreamed that my second sister was to be married, and on her wedding-day, you, father, held a golden ewer and said: ‘Come, Miranda, and I will hold the water that you may dip your hands in it.’”
The King was very angry indeed when he heard this dream, and frowned horribly; indeed, he made such an ugly face that everyone knew how angry he was, and he got up and went off to bed in a great hurry, but he could not forget his daughter’s dream.
“Does the proud girl wish to make me her slave?” he said to himself. “I am not surprised at her choosing to dress herself in white satin without a thought of me. She does not think me worthy of her consideration! But I will soon put an end to her pretensions!”
Good thing she didn’t tell him about the dream where she was trying to get to class and there was a test she hadn’t studied for and then it turned out she was naked.
He rose in a fury, and although it was not yet daylight, he sent for the Captain of his Bodyguard, and said to him: “You have heard the Princess Miranda’s dream? I consider that it means strange things against me, therefore I order you to take her away into the forest and kill her, and, that I may be sure it is done, you must bring me her heart and her tongue. If you attempt to deceive me you shall be put to death!”
I see Madame d’Aulnoy was cannibalizing Snow White … or wait, this was the 1600s, maybe the Brother Grimm cannibalized this one. Hmm. Hard to say. The heart is one thing, but the tongue is an interesting twist.
The Captain of the Guard was very much astonished when he heard this barbarous order, but he did not dare to contradict the King for fear of making him still more angry, or causing him to send someone else, so he answered that he would fetch the Princess and do as the King had said. When he went to her room they would hardly let him in, it was so early, but he said that the King had sent for Miranda, and she got up quickly and came out; a little black girl called Patypata held up her train, and her pet monkey and her little dog ran after her. The monkey was called Grabugeon, and the little dog Tintin.
This won’t end well.
The Captain of the Guard begged Miranda to c
ome down into the garden where the King was enjoying the fresh air, and when they got there, he pretended to search for him, but as he was not to be found, he said: “No doubt his Majesty has strolled into the forest,” and he opened the little door that led to it and they went through.
By this time the daylight had begun to appear, and the Princess, looking at her conductor, saw that he had tears in his eyes and seemed too sad to speak.
He routinely lost large sums at poker.
“What is the matter?” she said in the kindest way. “You seem very sorrowful.”
“Alas! Princess,” he answered, “who would not be sorrowful who was ordered to do such a terrible thing as I am? The King has commanded me to kill you here, and carry your heart and your tongue to him, and if I disobey I shall lose my life.”
The poor Princess was terrified, she grew very pale and began to cry softly. Looking up at the Captain of the Guard with her beautiful eyes, she said gently: “Will you really have the heart to kill me? I have never done you any harm, and have always spoken well of you to the King. If I had deserved my father’s anger I would suffer without a murmur, but, alas! he is unjust to complain of me, when I have always treated him with love and respect.”
“Fear nothing, Princess,” said the Captain of the Guard. “I would far rather die myself than hurt you: but even if I am killed you will not be safe: we must find some way of making the King believe that you are dead.”
“What can we do?” said Miranda; “unless you take him my heart and my tongue he will never believe you.”
The Princess and the Captain of the Guard were talking so earnestly that they did not think of Patypata, but she had overheard all they said, and now came and threw herself at Miranda’s feet
“Madam,” she said, “I offer you my life; let me be killed, I shall be only too happy to die for such a kind mistress.”
Sigh.
“Why, Patypata,” cried the Princess, kissing her, “that would never do; your life is as precious to me as my own, especially after such a proof of your affection as you have just given me.”
The Halcyon Fairy Book Page 5
