Classic Fairy Tales of Charles Perrault

by Charles Perrault

  “What are you doing there, my good woman?” asked the princess.

  “I am spinning, my pretty child,” said the old woman, who did not know who the princess was.

  “Well,” said the princess, “this is very nice. How do you do it? Let me try it, to see if I can do it.”

  She had no sooner put her hand on the spindle than, whether because she was too hasty, or too clumsy, or because the old fairy’s decree had ordained it, it cut her hand, and she immediately fell down in a faint.

  The old woman, not knowing what else to do, called out for help. People came from everywhere in great numbers – they threw water upon the princess’s face, loosened her corset, struck her on the palms of her hands and rubbed her temples with eau de Cologne, but nothing revived her.

  Then the king, who had just returned to the palace, heard all the commotion and came to see what was going on. He remembered the prediction of the fairies and, realising that it would have to have happened since the fairies had decreed it, had the princess carried into the finest apartment in the palace and laid on a bed embroidered with gold and silver. She was so beautiful that she looked like an angel, for her collapse had not affected her lovely complexion. Her cheeks were still as rosy as carnations, and her lips were as pink as coral. Although her eyes were shut she was heard breathing softly, so everyone knew that she wasn’t dead. The king commanded that she should not be disturbed, but should be allowed to sleep quietly until the hour of her awakening had come.

  The good fairy, who had saved the princess’s life by condemning her to sleep for 100 years, was a thousand leagues away in the kingdom of Matakin when this accident happened. She was very soon informed of it by a little dwarf with seven-league boots (that is, boots with which he could travel over seven leagues with a single stride). The fairy left immediately and arrived at the palace about an hour later, in a fiery chariot that was drawn by flame-breathing dragons. The king helped her out of the chariot and she approved everything he had done. However, she had the foresight to realise that when the princess woke up, she might not know what to do with herself, being all alone in this old palace. So this is what she did: She touched everything and everyone in the palace (except the king and queen) with her wand – governesses, ladies-in-waiting, ladies of the bedchamber, gentlemen, officers, stewards, cooks, assistant cooks, scullery maids, guards, pages and footmen. She also touched all the horses in the stables, as well as their grooms, the large courtyard dogs and pretty little Mopsy, the princess’s spaniel, which lay beside her on the bed.

  As soon as she touched them they all fell asleep. They would not wake before the princess and would be ready to serve her when she needed them. The very spits on the fire, full to capacity with partridges and pheasants, fell asleep, as did the fire itself. All this was done in a moment – fairies do not take long to go about their business.

  Then the king and queen, having kissed their beloved child without waking her, left the palace and issued a proclamation that nobody should dare to come near it. This, however, was unnecessary, for, in a quarter of an hour’s time, there grew up, all around the palace park, a vast number of trees, large and small, bushes and brambles, intertwining with each other, so that no person or animal could pass through them. Nothing could be seen but the very tops of the palace towers, and that was only from a long way off. Everyone believed that the fairy had done this, so that the princess, while she continued to sleep, would have nothing to fear from curious people.

  When 100 years had passed, the son of the king then reigning (who was of a different family from that of the sleeping princess) went hunting in that part of the country. What, he asked, were those towers that he saw in the middle of a great thick wood? Everyone answered based on what they had heard. Some said it was an old, ruined castle, haunted by spirits; others said that all the sorcerers and witches of the country had their night meetings there. The common opinion was that an ogre (an ogre is a giant, with long teeth and claws, who runs away with naughty little boys and girls and eats them up) lived there, and that he brought there all the little children that he could catch, so that he could eat them at his leisure, without anybody being able to follow him, because only he had the power to pass through the wood.

  The prince, perplexed, didn’t know what to believe, but then a very old man spoke to him.

  “May it please Your Royal Highness, it is now more than 50 years since I heard my father, who had it from my grandfather, say that in this castle there was the most beautiful princess ever seen; that she must sleep there for 100 years, and be awakened by a king’s son, for whom she was reserved.”

  The young prince was set alight with these words, believing, without a moment’s doubt, that he could put an end to the princess’s adventure. Urged on by love and honour, he immediately resolved to look into the matter.

  The prince had hardly gone any distance towards the wood when all the huge trees and the bushes and brambles gave way and let him pass through. He walked up to the castle at the end of a large avenue and went in. He was a little surprised when he saw that none of his men could follow him because the trees had closed again as soon as he had passed through them. However, he continued on his way – a young and amorous prince is always brave. He came to a spacious outer courtyard, where everything he saw could have filled the bravest person with horror. There was a dreadful silence and the image of death was everywhere. There was nothing to be seen but the stretched-out bodies of people and animals, all appearing to be dead. However, he soon saw from the red faces and noses of the guards that they were just asleep, and their goblets, which still contained a few drops of wine, showed plainly that they had fallen asleep in their cups.

  “THE PRINCE ENQUIRES OF THE AGED COUNTRYMAN”

  The prince then crossed a courtyard paved with marble, went upstairs and came to a guardroom, where the guards were still standing in their ranks with their guns on their shoulders, snoring loudly. After that he went through several rooms full of gentlemen and ladies, standing and sitting, and all asleep. Finally, he came to a room gilded with gold, where, on a bed with open curtains, he saw the finest sight he had ever seen – a princess, who appeared to be about 15 or 16 years of age, with a bright, resplendent beauty that seemed almost to be divine. He approached her, trembling and filled with admiration, and fell down on his knees before her. And now, since the enchantment was at an end, the princess awoke and looked at him with eyes full of tenderness. “Is it you, my prince?” she asked. “You have taken a long time to come.”

  The prince, charmed by her words, and even more so by the manner in which they were spoken, was unsure how to show his joy and gratitude. He assured the princess that he loved her better than he loved himself. Although he was not very eloquent, this pleased the princess even more – not much eloquence, a great deal of love. He was more at a loss than she, and this is not to be wondered at; she had had time to think about what to say to him, for it is very probable (although history is silent on the subject) that the good fairy had entertained her with pleasant dreams during her long sleep. To cut a long story short, even when they had been talking for four hours they still had not said half of what they had to say.

  In the meanwhile, the whole palace had woken up. Each was focused on their own situation, and as they were not all in love, they felt as if they were about to die of hunger. The chief lady-in-waiting, being as hungry as the others, became very impatient and told the princess that supper was served. The prince helped the princess to get up – she was fully dressed, and very magnificently, but he took care not to tell her that she was dressed like his great-grandmother, with a lace ruff peeping over a high collar, in spite of which she looked not a bit less beautiful and charming.

  They went into the great hall of mirrors, where they ate, and were served by the princess’s servants. The musicians played old tunes on violins and oboes, but very well, although it was now over a hundred years since the instruments had been played. After supper, without losing any time, the l
ord almoner married them in the castle chapel, and the chief lady-in-waiting drew the bed curtains. They had very little sleep – the princess had no need of it – and the prince left her the next morning to return to the city, where his father must have been anxious about him. The prince told him that he had lost his way in the forest where he was hunting, and that he had slept at the cottage of a charcoal burner, who had given him cheese and brown bread to eat. The king, who was easygoing by nature, believed him, but the queen could not be persuaded that his story was true. As the prince went hunting almost every day and always had some excuse ready when he had stayed away for three or four nights at a time, she became convinced that he had a lover.

  The prince lived with the princess for more than two years, and had two children with her, the eldest of whom was a daughter named Aurora, which means Dawn. The youngest child was a boy, who was called Day, because he was even more handsome and beautiful than his sister.

  “HE SAW, UPON A BED, THE FINEST SIGHT WAS EVER BEHELD” Photo © NGI

  More than once the queen told her son, in order to persuade him to confide in her, that a young man must sow his wild oats, but he never dared trust her with his secret. Although he loved her, he was afraid of her, because she belonged to the race of the ogres, and the king would never have married her had it not been for her vast riches. It was even whispered around the court that she had ogre-ish inclinations, and that she found it very difficult to prevent herself falling on any little children passing by. And so the prince never uttered one word about the princess.

  But when the king died about two years later, the prince became lord and master of his own kingdom and openly declared his marriage. He went to fetch his queen from her castle and they made a great entry into the capital city, she riding between her two children.

  Some time afterwards, the king went to make war on his neighbour, the Emperor Cantalabutte. He made his mother regent to rule in his absence, and earnestly asked her to look after his wife and children. He was likely to be gone for the entire summer. As soon as he had departed, the queen mother sent her daughter-in-law and her children to a palace in the woods, so that she might more easily satisfy her horrible longing.

  A few days later the queen mother went to the palace and said to her chef, “I think I’ll eat little Aurora for my dinner tomorrow.”

  “Oh, Madam!” cried the chef.

  “It’s what I want,” replied the queen (and she said this in the tone of an ogress, who had a strong desire to eat fresh meat), “and I will eat her with a Sauce Robert.” (This is a French sauce made with shredded onions cooked in butter, with vinegar, mustard, salt, pepper and wine.)

  The poor man, knowing very well that he shouldn’t play tricks on ogresses, took his big knife and went to Aurora’s chamber. She was then four years old, and came up to him jumping and laughing, ready to throw her arms around his neck and ask him for some sugar candy. At this, he began to weep, the knife fell out of his hand and he went out to the yard, where he killed a little lamb and dressed it with such a good sauce that the queen assured him that she had never eaten anything so good in her life. At the same time, he had taken little Aurora to his wife, to hide her in his quarters in the courtyard.

  About eight days later, the wicked queen said to the chef, “I will eat little Day.”

  The chef said nothing, having decided to deceive her, as he had done before. He went to find little Day, and found him with a big sword in his hand, with which he was fencing with a large monkey – the child was then only three years of age. He took him in his arms and brought him to his wife to hide with his sister, and, in little Day’s room, cooked a very tender young kid, which the ogress found to be wonderfully good.

  This was all very well, but one evening the wicked queen said to the chef, “I will eat the young queen with the same sauce I had with her children.”

  At this point the poor chef despaired of being able to deceive her again. The young queen had turned 20, not taking into account the 100 years she had been asleep, and her skin was a bit tough, although very fair and white. The chef resolved to cut her throat, in order to save his own life, and went up into her chamber, intending to do it at once. He prepared himself as well as he possibly could and came into the young queen’s room with his dagger in his hand. He had decided not to take her by surprise, but told her very respectfully of the orders he had received from the queen mother.

  “Do it, do it,” she said, stretching out her neck, “carry out your orders, and then I shall go and see my poor children, whom I so dearly loved,” for ever since they had been taken away without her knowledge she had believed them to be dead.

  “No, no, Madam,” cried the poor chef, in tears. “You will not die, and you will see your children again, but it must be in my living quarters, where I have hidden them, and I shall deceive the queen once again by giving her a young hind instead of you.”

  He then brought her to his lodgings and, leaving her to embrace and cry with her children, he dressed a young deer, which the queen had for her supper, and devoured it with as much appetite as if it had been the young queen. She was exceedingly pleased with her cruelty, and had invented a story to tell the king when he returned, about how ravenous wolves had eaten up the young queen and their two children.

  One evening, when the queen was, as usual, rambling around the palace precincts to see if she could smell any fresh meat, she heard little Day crying, because his mother was going to punish him for being naughty. At the same time, she heard little Aurora interceding for her brother.

  The ogress immediately recognised the voice of the young queen and her children, and, quite maddened by having been deceived, she commanded (in a most horrible voice, which made everybody tremble) that next morning, by break of day, a large tub should be brought to the middle of the great court, and that this should be filled with toads, vipers, snakes and all sorts of serpents, and that the young queen and her children, the chef, his wife and maid should be brought there with their hands tied behind their backs.

  And so they were brought out, and the executioners were just about to throw them into the tub when the king (who was not expected to return so soon), entered the courtyard on horseback and asked, with the greatest astonishment, what was the meaning of that horrible spectacle? No one dared tell him, but the ogress, enraged to see what had happened, threw herself head first into the tub, and was immediately devoured by the ugly creatures she had ordered to be thrown into it. The king was very sorry, for she was his mother, but he soon comforted himself with his beautiful wife and his pretty children.

  THE MORAL

  To get as prize a husband rich and gay,

  Of humour sweet, with many years to stay,

  Is natural enough, ’tis true;

  To wait for him a hundred years,

  And all that while asleep, appears

  A thing entirely new.

  Now at this time of day,

  Not one of all the sex we see

  Doth sleep with such profound tranquillity:

  But yet this Fable seems to let us know

  That very often Hymen’s blisses sweet,

  Altho’ some tedious obstacles they meet,

  Are not less happy for approaching slow.

  ’Tis nature’s way that ladies fair

  Should yearn conjugal joys to share;

  And so I’ve not the heart to preach

  A moral that’s beyond their reach.

  PUSS IN BOOTS

  There once was a miller with three sons. When he died he left them his mill, his ass and his cat, which was all he possessed. The division of the assets was soon made, without the help of a lawyer, who would soon have eaten up the entire poor bequest. The eldest son had the mill, the middle son had the ass, and the youngest had nothing but the cat.

  The poor young fellow was quite despondent at having received so little.

  “My brothers,” he said, “may make a good enough living by joining their inheritance together, but once
I have eaten my cat and made a muff for myself of his skin, I will die with hunger.”

  The cat, who had heard all this, but pretended that he had not, said to him with a grave and serious air, “Do not worry yourself, my good master. You need only give me a bag and have a pair of boots made for me, so that I may make my way through the dirt and the brambles, and you will see that your inheritance is not so bad as you imagine.”

  Though the cat’s master did not put too much store on what he said, he had, however, often seen the cat play many cunning tricks to catch rats and mice – hanging by his heels, or hiding himself in the flour, or pretending to be dead – so he did not altogether despair of his being able to help him in his miserable situation.

  When the cat had what he had asked for, he put on his boots, put his bag around his neck and, holding the strings of the bag in his two front paws, went into a warren that had a large population of rabbits. He put some bran and dandelions into the bag, stretched himself out to his full length as if he were dead, and waited for some young rabbit, not yet wise to the ways of the world, to come and rummage in his bag for what he had put into it.

  He had just lain down when he got what he wanted – a rash and foolish young rabbit jumped into his bag, and Mr Puss, immediately pulling the strings of the bag to close it, killed him without pity. Proud of his prey, he brought it to the palace and asked to speak with the king. He was shown upstairs to the king’s apartment and, bowing low, said, “Sire, I have brought you a rabbit, which my noble lord, the Marquis of Carabas” (for this was the title that Puss liked to give his master), “has commanded me to present to Your Majesty from him.”

  “Tell your master,” said the king, “that I thank him and that I am very pleased.”

  Another time the cat went and hid himself among some standing corn, holding his bag open. When a brace of partridges ran into the bag, he pulled the strings and caught them both. He went and made a present of them to the king, as he had done with the rabbit. As before, the king was very pleased to receive the partridges, and he ordered that the cat be given some drinking money.