Fairy Tales by the Countess d'Aulnoy/The good little Mouse
THE GOOD LITTLE MOUSE.
Once upon a time there was a King and a Queen, who loved each other so much—so much that they made each other's sole happiness. Their hearts and their sentiments were always in unison. Each day they hunted the hare or the stag, or went fishing for soles and carp, or to the ball to dance the bourée or the pavan,[1] and to great banquets to eat roast meats and sugar-plums, to the play and to the opera. They laughed, they sang, they played a thousand tricks to amuse themselves—in short, it was the happiest of times. Their subjects followed the example of the King and Queen; they emulated each other in their pastimes. For all these reasons they called this kingdom the Land of Joy. It happened that a king who was the neighbour of King Joyeux lived very differently. He was a declared enemy to pleasure. He desired nothing but wounds and blows. He had a grim countenance, a large beard, hollow eyes; he was all skin and bones, always dressed in black, with hair which stood on end, very greasy and dirty. To please him, they knocked down and killed all travellers. He hung all criminals himself, and delighted in torturing them. When a mother was dotingly fond of her little girl or boy, he would send for her, and before her eyes would break the child's arms, or wring its neck. This kingdom was called the Land of Tears.
The wicked King heard of the happiness of King Joyeux; he was very envious of him, and resolved to raise a large army, and kill, wound, or take captive him and all his people. He sent in all directions for men and arms: he ordered cannon to be cast. Everybody trembled with fear. They said, "With whom is he going to war? He will give him no quarter." "When everything was ready, he marched towards the country of King Joyeux, who at this bad news speedily took measures for his defence. The Queen was frightened to death, and crying said, "Sire, we must fly—let us collect as much money as we can, and go to the other end of the world." The King replied, "Fie, Madam, I have too much courage for that. It is better to die than be branded as a coward." He assembled all his men-at-arms, took an affectionate farewell of his wife, mounted his beautiful horse, and departed. When she lost sight of him, she began to weep sadly, and clasping her hands together, said, "Alas! if I should have an infant, and the King should be killed in battle, I shall be a widow and a prisoner, and the wicked King will inflict a thousand cruelties upon me. This thought prevented her from eating and sleeping. She wrote to him every day; but one morning, looking from the battlements, she saw a courier coming at full speed. She called to him, "Ho, Courier, ho! What news?" "The King is dead," said he; "the battle is lost; the wicked King will be here immediately." The poor Queen swooned, and they carried her to bed. All her ladies were around her, crying one for her father, another for her son, and tearing their hair: it was the most distressing thing in the world. All on a sudden they heard cries of "Murder! Thieves!" It was the wicked King, who had arrived with all his wretched followers, killing every one they met with. He entered the Royal Palace in complete armour, and ascended to the Queen's chamber. When she saw him enter, she was so frightened that she hid herself in the bed, and pulled the counterpane over her head. He called to her two or three times, but she never spoke a word. He grew angry, and said very fiercely, "Dost thou make sport of me! dost know that I might strangle thee instantly?" He pulled the bed-clothes off her, and tore off her cap: her beautiful hair fell all about her shoulders; he twisted it three times round his hand, and threw her over his shoulders like a sack of corn; he carried her thus down-stairs, and mounted with her upon his large black horse. She entreated him to have mercy on her, but he only mocked her and said, "Cry and complain! it makes me laugh, and amuses me." He carried her into his own country, and vowed all the way that he would hang her, but he was told it would be a pity, as she was about to become a mother. When he discovered that, it occurred to him, that if she had a daughter, he would marry his son to her, and to ascertain which it would be, he sent for a Fairy who lived near to his dominions. When she arrived, he entertained her better than was his custom; he then took her up into a tower, at the top of which the poor Queen occupied a very small and ill-furnished room. She was lying on the ground, upon a mattress not worth two-pence, and where she cried day and night. When the Fairy saw her, she could not help pitying her; she curtsied to her, and, embracing her, said in a low voice, "Take courage, Madam, your misfortunes will not last for ever. I hope to hasten the term of them." The Queen was consoled a little by these words, returned the Fairy's embraces, and begged her to have pity upon a poor princess who had enjoyed the greatest happiness, and was now equally miserable. They were in close conversation, when the wicked King exclaimed, "Come! no more compliments. I brought you here to tell me if this slave will have a boy or a girl?" The Fairy said, "She will have a girl, who will be the handsomest and best informed princess that was ever seen;" and forthwith she endowed the unborn princess with innumerable virtues and honours.
"Should she not be handsome and well informed," said the wicked King, "I will hang her to her mother's neck, and her mother on a tree, and nothing shall prevent me." So saying, he left the room with the Fairy, not condescending to look at the good Queen, who was crying bitterly, for said she to herself, "Alas! what shall I do? Should I have a beautiful little girl, he will give her to his monkey of a son; and should she be ugly, he will hang us together. To what an extremity am I reduced! Could I not hide my infant somewhere, so that he should never see it?" The time drew near for the little princess to be brought into the world, and the Queen's anxieties increased—she had no one to complain to, or to console her. The jailor who had the care of her gave her each morning but three boiled peas, with a little piece of black bread. She became as thin as a herring—she was nothing but skin and bone. One evening, as she was spinning (for the wicked King, who was very avaricious, made her work night and day), she saw a very pretty little Mouse come in through a hole. She said to it, "Alas! my little darling, what dost thou come to seek here? I have only three peas for myself the whole day long; if thou wouldst not fast, thou hadst better depart." The little Mouse ran hither and thither, and danced and capered like a little monkey, and the Queen was so amused at it, that she gave it the only pea that she had left for her supper. "Here, little darling," said she, "eat this; I have nothing more, and I give it you willingly." As soon as she had done so, she saw upon the table an excellent partridge, wonderfully well roasted, and two jars of sweetmeats. "Truly," said she, "a good deed is never unrewarded." She ate a little, but she had lost her appetite through fasting. She threw some bon-bons to the Mouse, who was still nibbling, and then she began to skip about more than before supper. Early the next morning, the jailor brought the Queen the three peas, which he had put into a large dish out of mockery. The little Mouse came softly and ate them all three and the bread also. When the Queen wanted her dinner, she could not find anything. She was very angry with the Mouse. "It is a wicked little animal," said she; "if it continues to do this, I shall be starved." As she was about to put the cover on the empty dish, she saw it fill with all sorts of good things to eat: she was delighted and began to dine on them, but whilst eating she bethought herself that the wicked King would perhaps in a few days order her baby to be killed, and she left the table weeping, and raising her eyes to heaven exclaimed, "Ah! are there no means of saving my child?" As she uttered these words she saw the little Mouse playing with some long bits of straw; she took them up and set to work upon them. "If there is enough straw," said she, "I will make a covered basket to put my little girl in, and I will give her out of the window to the first charitable person who will take care of her." She then worked on with renewed spirit. There was plenty of straw, the Mouse always dragging some into the room, where she continued to skip about, and at meal-time the Queen gave it her three peas, and, in exchange, always found a hundred sorts of ragouts. She was much surprised, and was continually wondering who it could be that sent her such excellent things. The Queen, one day, was looking out of the window, to ascertain how long the cord should be, by which she intended letting the basket down. She perceived below a little old woman, who was leaning on a stick, and who said to her, "I know your trouble, Madam; if you like, I will serve you." "Alas! my dear friend," said the Queen, "I should be very much obliged to you. Come every evening to the foot of this tower. As soon as my child is born I will let it down to you; you will nurse it, and if I am ever rich, I will handsomely reward you." "I am not covetous," answered the old woman, "but I am dainty in my eating; there is nothing I like so much as a plump and fat mouse. If you find any in your garret, kill them, and throw them to me. I shall not be ungrateful for it, and your baby shall be well taken care of." The Queen, hearing this, began to weep without making any reply, and the old woman, after having waited a little, asked her why she cried. "It is," she said, "because there is but one mouse that comes into my chamber, which is so pretty—such a very pretty little creature—that I cannot make up my mind to kill it." "How!" replied the old woman, angrily, "you love a knavish little mouse that gnaws everything, better than the child you are about to have! Very well, Madam, then you are not to be pitied; remain in such good company; I shall have plenty of mice without yours; I care little about it;" and she went away grumbling and muttering. Although the Queen had a good meal set before her, and the Mouse came to dance to her as usual, she never raised her eyes from the ground on which she fixed them—the tears streaming down her cheeks. That same night she was confined of a Princess, who was wonderfully beautiful; instead of crying, as other children do, she laughed at her dear Mamma, and held out her little hands towards her, as though she was quite sensible. The Queen fondled and kissed her most tenderly, sadly thinking, "Poor little darling! dear child! if thou fallest into the wicked King's hands, thy life will be ended." She covered her up in the basket with a note tied to her dress, upon which was written, "The name of this unfortunate infant is Joliette." And when she had left her a few moments without looking at her, she again opened the basket, and found her still handsomer; she kissed her and wept more bitterly, not knowing what to do. But with this comes the little Mouse and gets into the basket. "Oh! thou little creature," said the Queen, "how dearly has thy preservation cost me! I may, perhaps, lose on thy account my dear Joliette; any one else would have killed thee, and given thee to the dainty old woman, but I could not consent to do that." The Mouse began to say, "Do not repent of having done so, Madam; I am not so unworthy of your friendship as you think." The Queen was frightened to death when she heard the Mouse speaking; but her fear increased greatly when she perceived its little muzzle begin to take the form of a human face, that its paws became hands and feet, and that it suddenly grew larger. At length the Queen, hardly daring to look at her, recognised her to be the same Fairy who came to see her with the wicked King, and who was so kind to her. The Fairy said to her, "I wished to try your heart; I have discovered it to be good, and that you are susceptible of friendship. We Fairies, who possess immense wealth and treasures, seek only for friendship to sweeten life, and we rarely find it." "Is it possible, beautiful lady," said the Queen, embracing her, "that you have any trouble in finding friends, being so rich and powerful?" "Yes," replied she, "for they only love us from self-interest, and that affects us but little; but when you loved me as a little mouse, it was not from an interested motive. I wished to prove you still further; I took the form of an old woman; it was I who spoke to you at the foot of the tower, and you were still faithful to me." At these words she embraced the Queen, then she kissed the vermilion mouth of the little Princess, and said to her, "I endow thee, my child, to be the consolation of thy mother, and to be richer than thy father; to live a hundred years, always beautiful, without sickness, without wrinkles, and without becoming an old woman." The Queen, enchanted, thanked her, and entreated her to carry Joliette away with her, and to take care of her, adding that she gave her to her to be her own daughter. The Fairy accepted her, and thanked her; she put the baby in the basket, and lowered it to the ground; but having stopped a little, to reassume the form of the little Mouse, when she descended the cord after her, the child was not there, and reascending, much frightened, "All is lost!" said she to the Queen; "my enemy Cancaline has carried off the Princess. You must know she is a cruel fairy who hates me; and, unfortunately, being my senior, she is more powerful than I am. I know not by what means I can recover Joliette from her horrid clutches."
When the Queen heard such sad news, she thought she should die of grief; she cried very much, and begged her kind friend to try and see the child again, at any price. In the meanwhile the jailor came into the Queen's apartment, and found she had been brought to bed. He flew to tell the King of it, who ran to ask for the child; but she said that a fairy whose name she did not know had appeared and taken it away by force. The wicked King stamped his foot, and bit his nails to the quick. "I promised to hang thee," said he; "I will keep my word instantly." He then dragged the poor Queen into a wood, climbed up a tree, and was going to hang her, when the Fairy, having rendered herself invisible, gave him a violent push, and he fell from the top of the tree, knocking out four of his teeth. Whilst his people were endeavouring to put them in again, the Fairy carried the Queen away in her flying chariot, and conducted her to a beautiful castle. She took great care of her, and if she had had the Princess Joliette with her she would have been perfectly happy; but they could not find out where Cancaline had placed her, although the little Mouse tried all she possibly could. Time passed on, and the Queen's extreme affliction was a little abated. Fifteen years had flown away when it was reported that the wicked King's son had determined to marry his turkey-keeper, notwithstanding the young girl objected to the match. It was very surprising that a turkey-keeper should refuse to become a Queen; however, the wedding-dresses were made, and it was to be so splendid a marriage that they came from a hundred miles about to see it. The little Mouse transported herself thither; she wished to see the turkey-keeper at her ease. She went into the poultry-yard, and found her dressed in coarse linen, with naked feet, and a greasy napkin round her head. There were dresses of gold and silver,—diamonds, pearls, ribands, and lace, all about her on the ground; the turkeys were trampling on them, dirtying them, and spoiling them. The girl was sitting upon a large stone; the wicked King's son, who was crooked, blind with one eye, and lame, was saying to her, roughly, "If you refuse me your heart, I will kill you." She answered him proudly, "I will not marry you, you are too ugly; you resemble your cruel father; leave me in peace with my little turkeys—I love them better than all your fine clothes." The little Mouse looked at her with admiration; for she was as beautiful as the sun. As soon as the wicked King's son was gone, the Fairy assumed the figure of an old shepherdess, and said to her, "Good morning, my darling; your turkeys look very fine ones." The young turkey-keeper looked at the old woman sweetly, and replied, "They want me to leave them for a paltry crown—what would you advise me to do?" "My little girl," said the Fairy, "a crown is very beautiful, you know neither the value nor the weight of it." "But I do know," promptly replied the turkey-keeper, "and, therefore, refuse to accept it; at the same time I know not who I am, nor where my father and mother are. I have neither friends nor relations." "You are beautiful and virtuous, my child," said the wise Fairy, "which is worth ten kingdoms. Tell me, I entreat you, who placed you here, since you have neither father nor mother, friends nor relations?" "A fairy named Cancaline is the cause of my being here: she beat me, and knocked me about without cause or reason. I ran away one day, and not knowing where to go, I sat down in a wood. The son of the wicked King came to walk there; he asked me if I would attend to his poultry-yard. I was very willing to do so. I had the care of the turkeys; he frequently came to see them, and he saw me also. Alas! without any wish on my part, he took it in his head to love me so much, that he worries me greatly."
The Fairy, after hearing this story, began to think that the turkey-keeper was the Princess Joliette; she said to her, "My child, tell me your name?" "I call myself Joliette, at your service," said she. At this name, the Fairy no longer doubted about it, and throwing her arms round her neck, she thought she should devour her with kisses. She then said to her, "Joliette, I have known you for some time past; I am delighted to find you are so discreet, and so well-informed; but I wish you were cleaner, for you look like a little scullion. Take the beautiful clothes that are here, and dress yourself in them." Joliette, who was very obedient, threw off, immediately, the greasy handkerchief from her head, and shaking it slightly, she was covered entirely by her hair, which was as fair as light, and as fine as golden thread; it fell in ringlets down to the ground: then, taking in her delicate hands some water from a fountain, which was in the poultry-yard, she washed her face, which became as clear as oriental pearl. Roses seemed to be blooming upon her cheeks and lips; her breath smelt of garden and wild thyme; her form was as strait as a rush. In winter time they might have taken her skin for the snow, and in summer for the lily.
When she was dressed in her diamonds and fine clothes, the fairy considered her a miracle; she said to her, "Who do you think you are, my dear Joliette, now you are so bravely dressed?" She replied, "Truly, it seems to me that I am the daughter of a great king." "Should you be glad of it?" said the Fairy. "Yes, my good mother," replied Joliette, curtseying to her; "I should be very glad." "Well," said the Fairy, "then be content: I will tell you more to-morrow." She quickly returned to her splendid castle, where the Queen was busy spinning silk; the little Mouse cried out to her, "Will your Majesty bet your distaff and spindle that I do not bring you the best news you have ever had." "Alas!" replied the Queen, "since the death of King Joyeux, and the loss of my Joliette, I would not give a pin for all the news in the world." "There, there! do not grieve yourself any more," said the Fairy, "the Princess is wonderfully well; I have just seen her; she is so beautiful, so very beautiful, that it only depends upon herself to be a queen." She related everything from beginning to end, and the Queen cried with joy to know her daughter was so beautiful, and with grief that she had been a turkey-keeper.
"When we were great sovereigns in our own kingdom," said she, "and lived in such splendour, the poor dear departed and myself never thought our child would be a turkey-keeper!" "It is the cruel Cancaline," added the Fairy, "who, knowing how I love you, to spite me, has put her in this situation; but she shall not be in it any longer, or I will burn my books." "I will not agree," said the Queen, "to her marrying the son of the wicked King. Let us go to-morrow to claim her, and bring her here." In the meantime, the wicked King's son, being extremely angry with Joliette, sat down under a tree, where he gave way so to his grief that he quite howled. His father heard him; he went to the window and called out to him, "What art thou crying about, making a fool of thyself?" He answered, "Our turkey-keeper will not love me." "How! she will not love thee?" said the wicked King, "I will make her love thee, or she shall die." He called his guards, and said to them, "Go and fetch her, for I will make her suffer so much that she shall repent of her obstinacy." They went to the poultry-yard, and found Joliette in a white satin dress, embroidered all over with gold, with pink diamonds, and more than a thousand yards of riband all about it.[2] Never had they seen so fine a lady, in all her grandeur; they did not dare speak to her, taking her for a princess. She said very civilly to them, "Pray tell me whom you seek here?" "Madam," said they, "we are looking for a miserable little wretch they call Joliette." "Alas! it is I," said she; "what do you want with me?" They instantly seized her, and tied her feet and hands with thick cords, for fear she would run away. They led her in this manner to the wicked King, who was with his son. When he saw her so beautiful, he could not avoid being a little moved; and no doubt would have had pity upon her, had he not been one of the most wicked and cruel men in the world. He said to her, "Hah! hah! little rogue! little toad! you will not then love my son? He is a hundred times handsomer than you are! one of his looks is worth more than your whole person. Come, love him directly, or I will have you flayed." The Princess, trembling like a little pigeon, knelt before him, and said, "Sire, I entreat you not to flay me: that would be too cruel. Let me have two or three days to think what I ought to do, after which, be it as you will." His son, in a state of fury, insisted on her being flayed. They agreed at last to shut her up in a tower, where she could see nothing but the sky. At this moment the good Fairy arrived in her flying chariot, with the Queen. They heard all the news. The Queen began to cry bitterly, saying, how unfortunate she always was, and that she would rather her child was dead than that she should marry the wicked King's son. The Fairy said to her, "Take courage; I am going to worry them so much, that you will be satisfied and avenged." When the wicked King went to bed, the Fairy transformed herself into a little mouse, and hid herself under the bolster of the bed. As soon as he wished to sleep, she bit his ear; he became very angry; he turned on the other side; she bit the other ear. He cried out, "Murder!" He called for some one to come to him; they came; they found his two ears bitten, and bleeding so much, that they could not stop the blood. While they were looking everywhere for the mouse, she went to the wicked King's son, and served him in like manner. He called up his people, and showed them his ears, which were all skinned, and they put plaisters on them. The little Mouse returned to the wicked King's room, who had become a little drowsy; she bit his nose, and continued to nibble at it; he put his hands up to it; she bit them and scratched them. He cried out, "Mercy! I am lost!" She got into his mouth, and nibbled his tongue, his cheeks, his lips, his eyes. They came to him; they saw him quite overpowered; he could scarcely speak, his tongue was so bad; he made signs that it was a mouse; they looked for it in the mattress, in the bolster, in every corner; she was no longer there. She ran and served the son still worse, and ate his good eye (for he was already blind with one). He rose like a mad-man, sword in hand; he was quite blind; he ran into his father's room, who had also taken his sword, storming and swearing that he would kill everybody if they did not catch the mouse. When he saw his son in such a fury, he scolded him; and the latter was so heated by passion that he did not recognise his father's voice, and fell upon him. The wicked King, much enraged, wounded his son with his sword; he received a wound in return; they both of them fell to the ground, bathed in blood. All their subjects, who hated them mortally, and who only obeyed them through terror, fearing them no longer, tied cords around their feet and dragged them into the river, saying, they were quite delighted to get rid of them. Thus died the wicked King and his son. The good Fairy, who knew what had occurred, sought the Queen, and they hastened to the black tower, where Joliette was shut up under more than forty locks. The Fairy struck the great door three times with a little wand of hazel wood. It flew open, as did also all the others. They found the poor Princess very sad, who did not say a single word. The Queen threw herself upon her neck. "My dear child," said she to her, "I am thy mother, the Queen Joyeuse." She then related to her the history of her life. When Joliette heard so much good news, she was nearly dying with pleasure. She fell at the Queen's feet; she embraced her knees, moistened her hands with her tears, and kissed them a thousand times. She affectionately caressed the Fairy, who had brought her baskets full of valuable jewels, gold, diamonds, bracelets, pearls, and the portrait of King Joyeux, surrounded by precious stones, all of which she placed before her. "Let us lose no time," said the Fairy, "we must make a coup d'état; let us go into the great hall of the castle, and harangue the people." She walked first, with a grave and serious face, having on a dress with a train more than ten yards long, and the Queen in one of blue velvet, embroidered in gold, with a much longer train. (They had brought their robes of state with them.) They had also crowns upon their heads, as brilliant as suns. The Princess Joliette followed, distinguished by her marvellous beauty and modesty. They curtsied to all whom they met, gentle and simple. They were followed by crowds, anxious to know who these fine ladies could be. When the hall was quite full, the good Fairy told the wicked King's subjects that she would give them for a queen King Joyeux's daughter, whom they saw before them; that they would live very happy under her government; that, if they accepted her, she would find her a husband as perfect as herself, who would be always cheerful, and banish melancholy from every heart. At these words, every one exclaimed, "Yes, yes, she shall be our queen; we have been too long sad and miserable." At the same moment a hundred different instruments began to play on all sides, every one joined hands and danced a round,[3] singing to the Queen, her daughter, and the good Fairy:—"Yes! yes! she shall be our queen," &c. Such was their reception, and never was so much happiness known; they spread the tables, they ate, and drank, and then went to bed and slept soundly. When the Princess arose next morning, the Fairy presented to her the handsomest Prince that had ever been seen. She had been to the very end of the world to fetch him, in her flying chariot; he was as amiable as Joliette. The moment she saw him, she loved him. He, on his side, was charmed with her, and the Queen was transported with joy. They prepared a splendid banquet, and wonderfully fine dresses, and the marriage ceremony was performed amidst the greatest rejoicings.
The unfortunate Queen,
Whose distress you have seen,
In prison—abandon'd—forlorn—
By perils beset,
O'er her poor Joliette
Might have wept from the hour she was born,
Had not a kind Fay,
Who had many a day,
As a Mouse, shared her commons so short,
With gratitude warm,
Bravely weather'd the storm,
And brought their bark safe into port!
This is but a fable,
Yet from it I'm able
A moral, perchance, to impart:
To all things be kind,
And let gratitude find
For ever a place in your heart.
- ↑ The Bourée, or Borée, is the national dance of Auvergne. Madame de Sevigne, in her letters from Vichy, in 1676, repeatedly eulogises its grace and spirit; and Wraxall, in his "Tour in France," 1775, speaking of a fair countess, says, "When she danced the Bourée, a dance peculiar to Auvergne, I thought Hortensia Mancini was not comparable to Madame de L." The Pavan was a slow and stately dance, taking its name from the peacock, because it was danced by princes in their mantles, and ladles in gowns with long trains. Hawkins tells us the air was invented at Padua.
- ↑ The enormous quantity of ribands worn at this period by gentlemen, as well as ladies, makes this scarcely an exaggeration.
- ↑ Rounds were dances in a ring, formed by the joined hands of the dancers, and amongst the oldest of such amusements, "Sellenger's Round" is said to be the earliest of which the air has descended to us. It has been traced up nearly to the reign of Henry VIII.