Front matter
.
i
-
Preface
T HE public generally has such a distrust of all books attributed to Dumas pere that a word or two respecting the origin of the four stories in this volume should be added, together with our reasons for choosing them.
Most of the fairy tales published in Dumas’s name, in the volumes “ L’Histoire d’un Casse-Noisette,” “ Le P&re Gigogne,” and “ L’Homme aux Contes ” are more or less translations from Andersen, Grimm, etc. ; and the ones here , given may therefore be said to comprise all the stories of that description in which Dumas’s genius had an important share.
The first, “ La Bouillie de la Comtesse Berthe ” was published in 1844, being obviously a result of its author’s visit to Rhineland six years previously. In an introduction to the story, Dumas declares that he passed the castle of Wistgaw on his way down the Rhine, and that a fellow-passenger told him the legend, which he afterwards set on paper for. the delight of his friends the children. It is possible, however, that he heard it from his friend Gerard de Nerval, who accompanied him during this holiday, and was a great lover of fairy tales. It is he, indeed, who was the “ Homme aux Contes,” or “ Man who tells stories,” of the volumes so called, Dumas having written the tales after hearing De Nerval tell them.
This legend has always been a great favourite with French children, and one or two translations were made about fifty or sixty years ago, but of late years the story has been unaccountably neglected.
“ La Jeunesse de Pierrot ” first appeared in Dumas’s paper, “ Le Mousquetaire,” in 1854, under the title of “ Le Roi de Boheme ” (“The King of Bohemia”). As will be seen by his own preface to the story, Dumas was fond of inventing all sorts of ways of accounting
[ vii 1
• -
V
*
f ‘ y i i) ■
.
l M . V ’ <. J T ‘
*
; . 1 ■ • ^ |
. I
» J
Kia;
-
. - -
*
*- - •
-
.
i
PREFACE for their origin ; but in the absence of evidence to show that it was written by anyone else, we are forced to conclude that “ Aramis,” one of his four famous musketeers, was Dumas himself, especially as the story was duly incorporated with his works. ( )f course Pierrot does not date from the seventeenth century : the words “ electrify ” and “ electricity ” for instance, are of modern date ; and the bearsteaks eaten by Pierrot were evidently suggested by the famous incident in Dumas’s own career. The chapter-headings scattered throughout the story are taken from a popular French ballad of the time, “ Au Clair de la Lune,” in which all these disjointed phrases and sentences appeared.
Of the two minor stories, “ Les Etoiles Commia-Voyageurs,” which also appeared in “ Le Mousquetaire,” was the work of Dumas and a German humourist named Saphir, whose talents our author was one of the first in France to discover. The editor of the “ Mousquetaire ” offered to translate, popularise, and “ place ” a series of extracts from the foreigner’s works (this letter is in our possession), and obtained him a good price for them.
According to Audebrand (“A. Dumas a la Maison d’Or”), Gerard de Nerval selected the best work from Saphir’s innumerable jeux d’ esprit, another of the staff translated them literally, Bocage knocked them into shape, and then Dumas “ covered them with the powdered gold of his wit. This translation merits consideration as one of the best things by the author of ‘ Antony.’ ” It is significant that although several of Saphir’s writings appeared in Dumas’s journal under his own sign, “ Les Etoiles ” was signed by Dumas and published in his miscellanea.
How much of the merit of the story as it stands is due to Dumas and how much to Saphir, it is impossible to say now ; but as the German is now only known to the world through Dumas, it is fair to conclude that the process to which the Frenchman subjected the stories has given them their only chance of surviving.
It should be noted that the movements of the first star indicate to anyone familiar with Paris that the Institut and the Palais de Justice are alluded to plainly.
Some of our readers may recognise an old friend in Mocquet’s “ Voyage a la Lune.” It is in fact founded on an Irish anecdote, very popular about a hundred years ago, respecting the adventures
[ viii ]
f
*
*
PREFACE ^ of one Daniel O’Rourke. The Frenchman has lengthened and elaborated it, and re-told it in his inimitable style ; and those who wish to compare the original with the developed story may be referred to T. Crofton Croker’s volume of Irish fairy legends. The author of the anecdote is not known ; but it is thought to have been borrowed from Ariosto (with the adventures of whose hero Astolpho and his hippogriff, Dumas was well acquainted). The tale is so old as to be new to the children of to-day ; and to our thinking it could not be more amusingly told than by that great romancer and lover of children, Alexandre Dumas.
Contents
Chapter P>
I The Woodcutter’s Supper 3
II What a Little Child May Bring About 6
CHAPTER I — Ehe Woodcutter* s Supper
O NCE upon a time, my dear children, there lived in a little corner of Bohemia an old woodcutter and his wife, who dwelt in a miserable hut, in the depths of a forest. They were not rich, indeed, for their only fortune lay in the two gifts which God gives to the poor, — the love of work and two stout arms to work with.
All day, from dawn to dark, you could hear the sound of great blows struck with the hatchet ringing through the woods, and of merry singing that kept time with the strokes. It was the good man at his work.
When night came, he would gather together his day’s harvest of wood, and turn his steps homeward, his back bent with the
.
B
FAIRY TALES BY DUMAS «£?
weight of his spoil. In his little hut he always found a clear and sparkling fire, and his good wife standing over it, smiling welcome to him across the steam of the savoury stew, — a sight which made his heart rejoice greatly.
For many years the pair had passed their days thus, but there came an evening when the woodman did not return at his usual hour.
It was winter-time, — the month of December. The forest, turf and tree, was covered with snow ; and the north wind, which raged wildly through the woods, bore along with it clouds of snow, which it had swept from the branches, and which glimmered white as they were borne across the night. One might have fancied them ghosts out of your fairy-tale books, sailing through the black sky to their midnight meeting-place !
Old Marguerite — for that was the good wife’s name — was, as you may believe, very anxious. She kept going to the door of the little home, listening with all her ears, searching with all her eyes ; but she heard nothing but the wind howling in the treetops, and saw nothing but the snow, which lay white along her good' man’s path as far as her sight 'could follow.
She returned to the warm fireside and sank upon a stool. Her heart was so full of fear that the tears fell from her eyes. Seeing her so sad, everything in the little cottage became sad too. The fire, which always sparkled so gaily on the hearth, lost its brightness, and sank little by little to dull cinders ; and the little iron pot, which had rumbled so lustily just before, now took to sobbing in plaintive bubbles.
Two long hours passed thus, when suddenly a voice, chanting a chorus, was heard a few paces from the cabin. Marguerite trembled at this accustomed signal of her husband’s return, and, rushing to the door, reached it in time to fall into her good man’s arms.
“ Bon soir, my good Marguerite, bon soir,” said the woodcutter. “ I am a bit late, but you will forgive me when you see what I ’ve found.”
As he spoke, he set down upon the table before his wife’s astonished gaze, a pretty wicker cradle, in which lay a little child, so delicately formed, so tiny and so pretty, that the dame’s heart was touched at the bare sight of the child.
It was clothed in a long white tunic, with hanging sleeves which seemed like a dove’s folded wings ; and wide trousers of white stuff — like the coat — left uncovered two neat little feet shod with shoes, red-heeled and rosetted. Round his neck spread a cambric ruff, elegantly crimped ; and on his head he wore a pretty hat of white felt, cocked coquettishly over one ear.
Never had the woodcutter seen such a pretty little picture ; but what impressed the kindly dame most was the child’s strange complexion. It was as white as if its dear little head had been carved in alabaster.
“ By Saint Janvier! ” cried the good woman, clasping her hands, “ how pale he is ! ”
“ That ’s not to be wondered at,” answered the woodcutter ; “he had lain eight days under the snow when I found him.”
“ Holy Virgin ! eight days under the snow — and you did n’t tell me that straight away ! Why, the poor thing l s frozen ! ”
And without another word the old wife took the cradle, set it in the chimney corner, and threw a whole faggot on the fire.
The little pot, which was only waiting for this encouragement, began suddenly to tremble, and to froth and bubble so noisily that the little one in the cradle, his nostrils tickled by the savoury smell, began to sniff repeatedly. He licked his lips with his tiny red ribbon of a tongue, and then, to the great astonishment of the old couple, who could scarcely believe their eyes, he sprang from the cradle with a little cry of joy.
My dears, you can guess why, — he had just become aware of the old couple’s supper!
To fly towards the pot, plunge the big wooden spoon into its depths, draw it out, and carry a mouthful of its contents, all boiling as it was, to his mouth, was the work of a moment. But, oh ! no sooner had his lips touched the spoon than the little one flung it down and began to jump round the room, making such droll grimaces that the good man and his wife did not know whether to laugh or cry over him.
The little glutton had burnt his tongue !
Still, the old couple felt relieved to see that in spite of the fact that he was as pale as ever, the little stranger was far from being frozen.
Whilst the little man made all this stir in the room, old Marguerite set about laying supper. The pot was set upon the table ; and already the woodcutter, his sleeves tucked up, was preparing to enjoy himself, when our little imp, who was watching all these doings out of the corner of his eye, sprang resolutely upon the table, seated himself before the pot, and clasping it about with his legs, set to work with such sharp little teeth and such an air of delight that this time the old couple, freed from all anxiety on his account, could control themselves no longer. They began to laugh, and so madly, that not having taken the precaution to hold their sides (as one should always do, my dears, on such occasions), the pair fell flat on their backs and rolled here, there, and everywhere about the floor !
When they recovered themselves a quarter of an hour later and rose to their feet, the pot was empty, and the little one was sleeping like a cherub in his- cradle.
“ What a dear he is ! ” said the good Marguerite, who was laughing still.
“But he has eaten our supper!” answered the woodman, who became solemn enough at the thought.
And the kindly couple, who had had nothing to eat since morning, went off to bed fasting.
CHAPTER II— IVhat a Little Child May Bring About
N EXT day Marguerite was up and about before dawn, eager to go and tell all her gossips in the neighbouring hamlet the story of the little manikin, and how he was discovered.
As they heard her marvellous news the old dames opened their eyes and mouths in wonder, and rivalled one another in their cries of astonishment. In a moment all tongues were set a-clacking, and before the sun was up the story was known in every house for ten leagues around.
Only, as always happens, the tale grew and grew as it spread, until it took the most terrifying form. It was no longer, as it began, merely a child that had eaten the supper of the good folks who took it in : it was a white bear of gigantic size, which had broken into the poor couple’s cabin and cruelly devoured them! A little later in the day, the rumour reached the capital of the kingdom itself, and having continued to grow, the white bear had become a monster as big as a mountain, which had swallowed the entire families of twenty woodcutters, hatchets and all, at a gulp.
Therefore the good people of the town took great care not to put their noses out of window as they generally did, to sniff the morning air, but barricaded their houses, took to their beds again, and cowered under the clothes, not daring to breathe, so terrified were they.
And yet it was only a very little child that caused all this terror, — which shows, dear readers, that you should always see a thing pretty closely before being frightened of it.
Now, this very day the King of Bohemia was to ride through the streets of the capital in great pomp, to open the sittings of the Council, according to custom, — which means, my dear children, that His Majesty was to pay the people pretty compliments, and they were to repay him with plenty of money.
It was a very important occasion : the Councillors were to agree to some new taxes, each more absurd than the last, but which, absurd as they were, would bring in plenty of millions.
Furthermore., the King meant to ask for a dowry for his only daughter, now fifteen years of age, and dowries, too, for the little princes and princesses not yet born, but which the King and Queen did not despair of having some day.
Now, for a whole month, from morning till night, the King had shut himself up in his study, and with his gaze fixed on the floor had made unheard-of efforts to learn by heart the famous discourse which the lord Alberti Renardino, his prime minister, had written for the occasion. But he could not fix two words of it in his mind.
“ What am I to do ? ” lie cried one night, falling exhausted from his throne, out of breath with his vain efforts to learn his lesson.
“ Sire, nothing is more simple,” said Renardino, who entered just at this moment, — “ see ! ”
And with a stroke of the pen he cut down the speech to half, and by way of making things even, doubled the taxes.
And now the King, with a large train, set out from the palace, and advanced, as fast as his mule’s slow pace would take him, towards the building where the Councillors awaited the royal speech.
At his right came the Queen, lying full length in a litter carried by thirty-two black slaves, the strongest that could be bought. At his left, mounted on a dun-coloured horse, rode Fleur d’Amandier, the heiress to the ' kingdom, and the most beautiful princess in the world.
In the second rank came a person of high degree, richly clothed Eastern dress, but ugly enough to frighten you. He w r as humpbacked and knockkneed, and his beard, eyebrows, and hair were so red that one could not look him in the face without blinking. This was Prince A z o r, a great warrior, who was always fighting the Kings his neighbours, and to whom the King ot Bohemia, for safety’s sake, had betrothed his daughter Fleur d’Amandier, the (lay before. This vile man had claimed to be present at the Council, so as to frighten the members into voting the dowry for his future wife.
By his side marched Lord Renardino, who laughed slyly to himself as he thought of the heavy taxes with which (thanks to him) the good people of Bohemia were going to be crushed.
“ This teas Prince Azov
* 7 *
The procession had not gone a hundred paces before everyone was struck with wonder. The shops were closed, and the streets deserted !
The astonishment was greater still when a herald approached and announced to the King that the Council-chamber was empty.
“By my hump! What does this mean, I’d like to know?” cried Prince Azor, who had seen the Princess’s pretty face break into smiles at the news. “ Do they mean to play some trick on me h ”
“Yes, what does it mean, Lord Renardino h ” asked the King. “ Why don’t the people gather in the streets as usual, and cry, as they ought to do, ‘ Long live the King ’ ? ”
The chief minister, who knew nothing of the great news which had alarmed the city, did not know what to say in reply, when suddenly Prince Azor, purple with rage, struck the nobleman on the cheek.
The angry Prince had seen Fleur d’Amandier smile beneath her veil a second time, and was Convinced that they were making sport of him.
“ King of Bohemia ! ” he cried, grinding his teeth, “ this jest shall cost you dear ! ” And setting spurs to his horse, he galloped away furiously.
At these words, which contained a threat of war, everyone turned pale except Renardino, who became very red.
Disorder now reigned. The King and all his suite fled towards the palace, crying, “ To arms ! to arms ! ” and the thirty-two slaves hastened their flight by leaving the Queen’s litter in the middle of the street. Very luckily Her Majesty, believing herself to be already in the Council-chamber, had fallen peacefully asleep.
Let us sum up the events which had just occurred.
A kingdom was in agitation ; a marriage broken off ; a declaration of war had been made, and a great Queen left unprotected on the high-road, — all because a poor woodcutter had found a little child in the forest !
Such are the events, my dear children, that rule the fate of Kings and the greatness of empires!
[ 9 1
CHAPITER III — Pierrot's Baptism
T HE scene which we have just described had such an effect on the King that no sooner had he returned to the palace
than he put on his coat of mail (which had gone very
rusty since the last war) and took to cutting and thrusting ferociously with his sword at a dummy dressed in Eastern fashion, which was supposed to represent Prince Azor.
He had passed his sword a hundred times or so through the figure’s body, when an idea suddenly occurred to him. This was to summon Lord Bambolino, the mayor of the town, to appear
before him, so that he might know what had become of all the
people.
After a most painstaking search from house to house, Bambolino was found at length, hiding under a pile of trusses of straw at the back of a barn, clad in nothing more dignified than a short skirt. Fearing to be devoured by the monster, the poor man had hung round his neck a large leathern collar bristling with spikes such as sheep-dogs wear when in the fields, to protect themselves from wolves.
The mayor was dragged to the foot of the throne and there told his story of the monster and his wicked practices, but the poor man’s teeth chattered so that it was hard to tell what he said.
The whole court was ready to fly on hearing his tidings, but the King, who just then felt in the humour to fight, decided to start on the track of the monster that very instant, in spite of the reasonings of Renardino, who protested that it would be much better to settle the matter on friendly terms, and hand over to the monster daily such an allowance of victims as his appetite might need.
“ All very well,” the King had replied, “ but don’t forget, my lord, that you, as my Prime Minister, would be the one who would have to arrange matters with the monster.”
So on second thoughts that gentleman did not press his point. Accordingly the King “took the field” straightway, at the head of all his court, and under the protection of as many of his guards as lie could muster. Fleur d’Amandier, who loved sport passionately, joined the procession, and rode her snow-white charger with a charming grace, making him show his paces, whilst the steed himself, proud of his fair burden, strove to win admiration for his mistress and himself.
(All this time the Queen, whom no one had missed since the morning, had slept placidly on in her litter, where the negroes had left it.)
The company had ridden on for some hours without encountering a soul, when suddenly an old woman, clothed in rags, stepped, as if by magic, out of a clump of underwood which bordered the high-road.
Leaning on a stout white crutch-stick, she hobbled forward to the King, and, stretching out a withered hand, cried in a cracked voice : —
“ Charity, kind gentlemen, pray : I am so cold and so hungry ! ”
“ Back, old witch, street-beggar that you are ! ” cried Kenardino. “ Away, or I will have thee thrown into prison ! ”
But the beldame looked so wretched that the King was moved to pity, and threw her his purse, which was full of gold. At the same time Fleur d’Amandier, unperceived by the courtiers, slipped into the poor woman’s hand a splendid collar of pearls which she had just taken from her neck.
“ Take that, my good dame,” she said in a low voice, “ and come to see me at the palace to-morrow.”
But no sooner had the Princess spoken than the old beggar disappeared, and, strange to say, the King found his purse in his belt once more, and the pearl collar sparkled as brilliantly as ever on the neck of Fleur d’Amandier.
It was only Lord Kenardino who had suffered : he searched himself all over for his purse, which he could not find, although he was certain he had brought it with him.
A hundred paces farther on the procession came up with a young shepherd boy, who was placidly playing on his pipe, tending his sheep, whilst the poor creatures sought beneath the snow for a few sparse blades of grass to keep their teeth employed.
“ Hi, friend, hi ! ” cried the King, “ can you tell us where we shall find the fierce monster of which we are in search ? ”
“ Sire,” answered the youth, bowing with a grace and ease of manner very unusual in one of his station of life, “ Your Majesty has been deceived, like every one else : the ‘ monster ’ of whom they have told you is not a fierce creature, by any means ; it is a little child — harmless enough, surely — who was discovered by a woodcutter in the forest here.”
Then he went on to give the King such an account of the little man, and of the strange pallor of his complexion, — which was whiter than anything else you ever saw, — that His Majesty, who was a great lover of nature, thought he would like to preserve this strange creature in spirits-of-wine.
“ My daughter and I are very anxious to .see this wonderful little man,” he said cunningly. “ Will you guide us to him ? ”
“ I am at your Majesty’s orders,” answered the shepherd, who had blushed cherry red at the mention of the Princess.
The party rode on, led by the young guide, but although he took them by all the short cuts known to the foresters, an hour passed before he stopped at the woodcutter’s hut.
The King dismounted and rapped at the door.
“ Who is there ? ” cried a silvery voice from within.
“ It is I, — the King ! ”
At these magical words the door seemed to open of itself, like that of Ali Baba’s famous cave, and the little man appeared on the threshold, his conical hat in his hand.
You, my dear children, would have taken good care that you did not come face to face with one of the greatest Kings of the the earth. More than one of you, I can guess, would have crept into a corner and hidden your face with your hands, opening your fingers, perhaps, just the tiniest little bit, to see if Kings are made like other people.
But the manikin was not at all like that! He advanced with an exquisite grace, knelt on one knee before the King, and kissed the hem of his robe most respectfully. (I really don’t know where he learnt all this.) Then, turning towards Fleur d’Amandier, he saluted her with the utmost gallantry, and offered her his little white hand to help her to dismount.
When this was done, without in the' least troubling himself about Kenardino, who expected to receive the same attention, he
* r .
J gracefully invited the King and his daughter to enter and seat themselves.
The woodman and his wife (who had sat down to dinner two hours sooner than usual) were struck dumb at the sight of so many grand folk, and their hearts beat fast with fright.
“ Good people,” said the King, “ I will make you rich, — ay, rich indeed, — if you will grant me two things : let me take away this little fellow, whom I wish to keep near me,
— and give me straightway some of that smoking-hot broth of yours, which smells so good and savoury, for I have been riding all day and am dying* of hungrer.”
The good man and his wife were so amazed that they could not think of a word to say in reply.
“ Sire,” said the
little man, “ do with me what you will :
1 am quite at your service, and ready to follow you. I only ask your Majesty to do me the favour of taking with you also these good folk, who have adopted me, and whom I love as much as if I 'tfere their own son. As for the broth, pray do not be sparing of it; may I hope that you will grant me the honour, little though I am, of being your waiter ? ”
“ Agreed,” said the King, patting the tiny fellow’s cheek kindly. “ You are a sensible lad, and we shall see, later on, what can be done for you.”
The little man . . . across the back of an old ass. ”
So speaking, he and Fleur d’Amandier took the places of the old couple, who could not understand why the King had come so far in order to eat their poor supper.
The meal was a merry one : the King even deigned in his high
spirits to make a few jokes, which the little man had the good sense to laugh at.
After supper, every one hastened to prepare for departure, in order that they might reach the palace again before night. The two peasants, whom the King desired to favour, were with some trouble hoisted on the back of Lord Renardino’s mule, and sat in the saddle behind him. The littfe man for his part sprang lightly across the back of an old ass which he had been to fetch from the stable, and who, seeing such a gay gathering, began to bray with all his miffht, so elated was he to
“ The tivo peasants . . . on the back of Lord Renardino’s mule.”
find himself in such grand company. There only remained the young shepherd, who was forced to manage as best he could, seated behind the officer of the King’s guards.
The procession set out in silence, for it was noticed that the King seemed deep in thought. To tell the truth, he was trying to
—I think of a name for his new servant, bnt as usual when he tried to think of anything, he failed.
We will leave the cavalcade on its way back to the city and return to the palace, and to what was taking place there whilst the King was away. \
The black slaves, who had taken to flight at the threat uttered by Prince Azor, soon remembered that Renardino would take a keen delight in hanging them for their desertion of the Queen. They hurried back, therefore, to the litter, cautiously raised it once more, and bore it off to the palace. There they set the Queen down gently on a bed covered with gold brocade, and retired into the antechamber, feeling that a great weight had been taken from their shoulders.
The opening of the book is shown; the full text loads in the reader.
Loading the full text…
The end
You’ve reached the end of Fairy-tales by Dumas.
