by Maria Tatar
Once the frog had her word, he dove down headfirst into the water. After a while he came paddling back up with the ball in his mouth and tossed it onto the grass. When the princess caught sight of her beautiful toy, she was overjoyed. She picked it up and ran off with it.
“Wait for me,” the frog cried out. “Take me with you. I can’t run the way you do.”
He croaked as loudly as he could after her, but it was no use. She paid no attention, sped home, and quickly forgot about the poor frog, who crawled back down into the well.
The next day, after she had sat down for dinner with the king and all the other courtiers and was eating from her little golden plate, something came crawling up the marble staircase, splish, splash, splish, splash. When it reached the top of the stairs, it knocked at the door and called out: “Princess, youngest princess, let me in!”
She ran to the door to see who it was, and when she opened the door, the frog was waiting right there. Terrified, she slammed the door as fast as she could and went back to the table. The king could see that her heart was pounding with fear, and he said, “My child, why are you afraid? Was there a giant at the door coming to get you?”
“Oh, no,” she replied. “It wasn’t a giant, but it was a disgusting frog.”
“What does a frog want from you?”
“Oh, father dear, yesterday when I was playing at the well, my golden ball fell into the water. And because I was crying so hard, the frog fetched it for me, and because he insisted, I promised that he could be my companion. I never thought that he would be able to leave the water. Now he’s outside and wants to come in to see me.” Just then there was a second knock at the door, and a voice called out:
“Princess, youngest princess,
Let me in.
Did you forget
Yesterday’s promise
Down by the chilly waters?
Princess, youngest princess,
Let me in.”
Then the king said: “When you make a promise, you must keep it. Just go and let him in.”
She went and opened the door. The frog hopped into the room and followed close on her heels until she reached her chair. Then he sat down and called out: “Lift me up beside you.”
She hesitated, but the king ordered her to obey. Once the frog was up on the chair, he wanted to get on the table, and once he was up there he said, “Push your little golden plate closer to me so that we can eat together.”
She did as he said, but it was obvious that she was not happy about it. The frog enjoyed his meal, but for her almost every little morsel stuck in her throat. Finally he said, “I’ve had enough to eat, and now I’m tired. Carry me up to your little room and prepare your little bed with the silken covers.”
The princess began to cry, and was afraid of the clammy frog. She didn’t dare touch him, and now he was going to sleep in her beautiful, clean bed. The king grew angry and said, “You shouldn’t scorn someone who helped you when you needed it.”
The princess picked up the frog with two fingers, carried him up to her room, and put him in a corner. While she was lying in bed, he came crawling over and said, “I’m tired and want to sleep as much as you do. Lift me up into your bed or I’ll tell your father.”
Then she grew really cross, picked him up, and threw him with all her might against the wall. “Now you’ll get your rest, you disgusting frog!”
When he fell to the ground, he was no longer a frog but a prince with beautiful, sparkling eyes. At her father’s bidding, he became her dear companion and husband. He told her that a wicked witch had cast a spell on him and that she alone could release him from the well. The next day they planned to set out together for his kingdom. They fell asleep, and, in the morning, after the sun had woken them, a coach drove up drawn by eight white horses in golden harnesses, with white ostrich plumes on their heads. At the back of the coach stood Faithful Heinrich, the servant of the young king. Faithful Heinrich had been so saddened by the transformation of his master into a frog that he had to have three hoops placed around his heart to keep it from bursting with pain and sorrow. Now the coach was there to take the young king back to his kingdom, and Faithful Heinrich lifted the two of them in and took his place in the back again. He was overjoyed by the transformation. When they had covered some distance, the prince heard a cracking noise behind him, as if something had broken. He turned around and called out:
“Heinrich, the coach is falling apart!”
“No, my lord, ’tis not the coach,
But a hoop from round my heart,
Which was in such pain,
While you were down in the well,
Living there as a frog.”
Two more times the prince heard the cracking noise, and he was sure that the coach was falling apart. But it was only the sounds of the hoops breaking off from Faithful Heinrich’s heart, for his master had been set free and was now happy.
THE SWAN MAIDENS
England
The folklorist Joseph Jacobs is often regarded as the British answer to the Brothers Grimm, and he hoped, in his Europa’s Fairy Book, to retell tales in such a way as “to bring out the original form from which all the variants are derived.” Jacobs was convinced that, by studying variants of a tale type, he could “conjecture” the “original concatenation of incidents into plot” and produce a standard form. His story about swan maidens is remarkable in blending motifs from various tales to produce a story that retains the power of its core theme, the search for the lost wife.
There was once a hunter who used often to spend the whole night stalking the deer or setting traps for game. Now it happened one night that he was watching in a clump of bushes near the lake for some wild ducks that he wished to trap. Suddenly he heard, high up in the air, a whirring of wings and thought the ducks were coming; and he strung his bow and got ready his arrows.
But instead of ducks there appeared seven maidens all clad in robes made of feathers, and they alighted on the banks of the lake, and taking off their robes plunged into the waters and bathed and sported in the lake. They were all beautiful, but of them all the youngest and smallest pleased most the hunter’s eye, and he crept forward from the bushes and seized her dress of plumage and took it back with him into the bushes.
After the swan maidens had bathed and sported to their heart’s delight, they came back to the bank wishing to put on their feather robes again; and the six eldest found theirs, but the youngest could not find hers. They searched and they searched until at last the dawn began to appear, and the six sisters called out to her, “We must away; ’tis the dawn; you meet your fate whatever it be.” And with that they donned their robes and flew away, and away, and away.
When the hunter saw them fly away he came forward with the feather robe in his hand; and the swan maiden begged and begged that he would give her back her robe. He gave her his cloak but would not give her her robe, feeling that she would fly away. And he made her promise to marry him, and took her home, and hid her feather robe where she could not find it. So they were married and lived happily together and had two fine children, a boy and a girl, who grew up strong and beautiful; and their mother loved them with all her heart.
One day her little daughter was playing at hide-and-seek with her brother, and she went behind the wainscoting to hide herself, and found there a robe all made of feathers, and took it to her mother. As soon as she saw it she put it on and said to her daughter, “Tell father that if he wishes to see me again he must find me in the Land East o’ the Sun and West o’ the Moon”; and with that she flew away.
When the hunter came home next morning his little daughter told him what had happened and what her mother said. So he set out to find his wife in the Land East o’ the Sun and West o’ the Moon. And he wandered for many days until he came across an old man who had fallen on the ground, and he lifted him up and helped him to a seat and tended him
until he felt better.
Then the old man asked him what he was doing and where he was going. And he told him all about the swan maidens and his wife, and he asked the old man if he had heard of the Land East o’ the Sun and West o’ the Moon.
And the old man said, “No, but I can ask.”
Then he uttered a shrill whistle and soon all the plain in front of them was filled with all of the beasts of the world, for the old man was no less than the King of the Beasts.
And he called out to them, “Who is there here that knows where is the Land East o’ the Sun and West o’ the Moon?” But none of the beasts knew.
Then the old man said to the hunter, “You must go seek my brother who is the King of the Birds,” and told him how to find his brother.
And after a time he found the King of the Birds, and told him what he wanted. So the King of the Birds whistled loud and shrill, and soon the sky was darkened with all the birds of the air, who came around him. Then he asked, “Which of you knows where is the Land East o’ the Sun and West o’ the Moon?”
And none answered, and the King of the Birds said, “Then you must consult my brother the King of the Fishes,” and he told him how to find him.
And the hunter went on, and he went on, and he went on, until he came to the King of the Fishes, and he told him what he wanted. And the King of the Fishes went to the shore of the sea and summoned all the fishes of the sea. And when they came around him he called out, “Which of you knows where is the Land East o’ the Sun and West o’ the Moon?”
And none of them answered, until at last a dolphin that had come late called out, “I have heard that at the top of the Crystal Mountain lies the Land East o’ the Sun and West o’ the Moon; but how to get there I know not save that it is near the Wild Forest.”
So the hunter thanked the King of the Fishes and went to the Wild Forest. And as he got near there he found two men quarrelling, and as he came near they came toward him and asked him to settle their dispute.
“Now what is it?” said the hunter.
“Our father has just died and he has left but two things, this cap which, whenever you wear it, nobody can see you, and these shoes, which will carry you through the air to whatever place you will. Now I being the elder claim the right of choice, which of these two I shall have; and he declares that, as the younger, he has the right to the shoes. Which do you think is right?”
So the hunter thought and thought, and at last he said, “It is difficult to decide, but the best thing I can think of is for you to race from here to that tree yonder, and whoever gets back to me first I will hand him either the shoes or the cap, whichever he wishes.”
So he took the shoes in one hand and the cap in the other, and waited until they had started off running toward the tree. And as soon as they had started running toward the tree he put on the shoes of swiftness and placed the invisible cap on his head and wished himself in the Land East o’ the Sun and West o’ the Moon. And he flew, and he flew, and he flew, over seven Bends, and seven Glens, and seven Mountain Moors, until at last he came to the Crystal Mountain. And on the top of that, as the dolphin had said, there was the Land East o’ the Sun and West o’ the Moon.
Now when he got there he took off his invisible cap and shoes of swiftness and asked who ruled over the Land; and he was told that there was a king who had seven daughters who dressed in swans’ feathers and flew wherever they wished.
Then the hunter knew that he had come to the Land of his wife. And he went boldly to the king and said, “Hail, oh, king, I have come to seek my wife.”
And the king said, “Who is she?”
And the hunter said, “Your youngest daughter.” Then he told him how he had won her.
Then the king said, “If you can tell her from her sisters then I know that what you say is true.” And he summoned his seven daughters to him, and there they all were, dressed in their robes of feathers and looking each like all the rest.
So the hunter said, “If I may take each of them by the hand I will surely know my wife”; for when she had dwelt with him she had sewn the little shifts and dresses of her children, and the forefinger of her right hand had the marks of the needle.
And when he had taken the hand of each of the swan maidens he soon found which was his wife and claimed her for his own. Then the king gave them great gifts and sent them by a sure way down the Crystal Mountain.
And after a while they reached home, and lived happily together ever afterward.
PRINCESS FROG
Russia
This Russian tale is unusual in tracing the source of an enchantment to a father, a paternal figure who is irritated by the wisdom of his daughter. Vasilisa has many skills, and, in addition to being wise, she can bake, weave, and dance, making her an expert in the domestic and the performing arts. In many tales about Vasilisa, Baba Yaga is her antagonist, but in this case the Russian witch, also known as the bony-legged one, is not the usual monstrous, child-devouring hag of Slavic folklore. Baba Yaga often poses a powerful threat to figures in fairy tales, but she can also, as is the case in this story, serve as helper and ally, providing whatever it is that a fairy-tale hero or heroine lacks.
A long time ago, in ancient times, there lived a tsar with the princess, his wife. They had three sons, all young and such brave fellows that no pen could describe them. The youngest was called Ivan Tsarevitch.
One day their father said to his sons, “My dear boys, I want each of you to take an arrow, draw your bow, and let your arrow fly. Wherever it falls, there you will find the bride for you.”
The arrow of the eldest fell right near the house of a boyar, right in front of the quarters where the women were living. The arrow of the second son flew on the porch of a rich merchant, and right there on the porch was standing the merchant’s daughter, a sweet girl. The youngest, the brave Ivan, had the bad luck of sending his arrow into a swamp, where it was caught by a croaking frog.
Ivan went straight to his father and asked, “How can I marry a frog? Is she my equal? She certainly cannot be!”
His father replied, “Never mind. You have to marry the frog, for that is your destiny.”
The brothers married. The eldest wed a nobleman’s child; the second, a merchant’s beautiful daughter; and the youngest, Ivan, a croaking frog.
Some time passed and the tsar summoned his three sons and said, “Tell each of your wives to bake a loaf of bread by tomorrow morning.”
Ivan returned home, and there was no smile on his face. Instead, his brow was furrowed.
“Croak! Croak! Ivan, my dear husband, why do you look so sad?” the frog asked gently. “Did anything disagreeable happen in the palace?”
“Disagreeable indeed,” answered Ivan. “The tsar, my father, wants you to bake a loaf of white bread by tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t worry, Ivan. Go to bed. The morning hours are a better source of advice than the dark evening hours.”
Ivan took his wife’s advice and went to sleep. Then the frog threw off her frog skin and turned into a beautiful, sweet girl. Her name was Vasilisa. She stepped out onto the porch and called out, “Nurses and cooks, come to me at once and prepare a loaf of white bread for tomorrow morning, a loaf like the kind I used to eat at my royal father’s palace.”
Ivan woke up in the morning with the crowing cocks, and you know that the cocks and the chickens never sleep late.
The loaf was already made, and it was so fine that nobody could even describe it, for only in the land of the fairies can you find such marvelous loaves. It was decorated with pretty figures on the sides, with towns and fortresses on it, and the inside was as white as snow and as light as a feather.
Ivan’s father was pleased and gave his son special thanks.
“Now there is another task I have,” the tsar said with a smile. “Have each of your wives weave a rug for me by tomorrow.”
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bsp; Ivan returned home, and there was no smile on his face. Instead, his brow was furrowed.
“Croak! Croak! Dear Ivan, my husband and master, why are you so upset? Was your father not pleased?”
“How can I be anything but upset? The tsar, my father, has ordered a rug by tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry, Ivan. Go to bed and get some sleep. The morning hour will bring help.”
Once again, the frog turned into Vasilisa, the wise maiden, and again she cried out, “Dear nurses and cooks, come to me for new work. Weave a silk rug like the one I used to sit upon in the palace of the king, my father.”
Once said, quickly done. When the cocks began with their “cock-a-doodle-doo,” Ivan woke up and lo and behold! There lay before him the most beautiful silk rug, a rug that no one could even begin to describe. Threads of silver and gold were woven in with bright-colored silk threads, and the rug was so beautiful that it was more for admiration than anything else.
The tsar was pleased and thanked his son Ivan. Then he issued a new order. This time he wanted to see the three wives of his handsome sons. He asked them to present their brides on the next day.
Ivan returned home with a furrowed brow, more furrowed even than before.
“Croak! Croak! Ivan, my dear husband and master, why do you look so sad? Did you hear some unpleasant news at the palace?”
“Unpleasant enough indeed! My father, the tsar, has ordered all three of us to present our wives to him. Now tell me, how do I dare go to him with you?”
“It’s not really that bad, and it could be much worse,” the frog answered, croaking softly. “You can go on ahead by yourself, and I will follow you. When you hear a loud noise, don’t be afraid of the sound. Simply say, ‘Here comes my miserable little frog in her miserable little box.’”
