Angela Carter's Book Of Fairy Tales

by Angela Carter

  ‘She’s a bit of a mystery, I know,’ says de young master, ‘but dat don’t signify as I want her any de less. I must hev her, Mother,’ he says, ‘whoiver and whativer she is; and dat’s de dear God’s truth, Mother, strike me dead if it ain’t.’

  Women sarvants ’es long ears, and big mouths, and you may be sure as it wasn’t long afore de young master and dis wonderful han’some lady he’d fell in love wid was all de talk in de kitchen.

  ‘And fancy you, Mossycoat, thinking as he specially wanted you to go to de dance,’ dey says, and starts in on her proper, meking all manner o’ nasty sarcastical remarks, and hitting her on de head wid de skimmer, pop, pop, pop, for lying to ’em (as dey said). It was de same agen later on, after when de master and mistress hed sent for her, and exed her once more to go to de dance wid ’em, and once more she’d defused. It was her last chance, dey said – dat was de sarvants – an’ a lot more besides, as ain’t worth repeating. And down came de skimmer a-top of her head, pop, pop, pop. Den she put de whole devil’s breed ’n ’em into a trance like she done de night afore, and got hersel’ ready to go to de dance, de only difference being as dis time she put her t’other dress on, de one med o’ silk de color of all de birds o’ de air.

  She’s in de ballroom now, Mossycoat is. De young master, he’s waiting and watching for her. As soon as he sees her, he exes his father to send for de fastest horse in his stable, and hev it kept standing ready saddled at de door. Den he exes his mother to go over and talk to de young lady for a bit. She does dat, but can’t larn no more about her ’an she did the night afore. Den de young master hears as his horse is ready at de door; so he goes over to de young lady, and exes her for a dance. She says jus’ de same as de night afore, ‘No,’ at first, but ‘Yes,’ at de finish, and jus’ as den, she says she mus’ go after when dey’ve danced only once de length o’ de room an’ back. But dis time, he keeps howld ’n her till dey gets outside. Den she wishes hersel’ at home, and is dere nearly as soon as she’s spoken. De young master felt her rise into de air, but couldn’t do nothing to stop her. But p’raps he did jus’ touch her foot, as she dropped one slipper; I couldn’t be sure as he did; it looks a bit like it though. He picks de slipper up; but as for catching up wid her, it would be easier by far to catch up wid de wind on a blowy night. As soon as she gits home, Mossycoat changes back into her owld things; den she looses de t’other sarvants from de spell she’d put on ’em. Dey’ve been asleep agen, dey thinks, and offers her one a shilling, another a half a crown, a third a week’s wage, if she won’t tell on ’em; and she promises as she won’t.

  De young master’s in bed next day, a-dying for de love of de lady as lost one ’n her silver slippers de night afore. De doctors can’t do him not de leastest good. So it was give out what his state was, and as it was only de lady able to wear de slipper as could save his life; and if she’d come forrad, he’d marry her. De slippers, as I said earlier on, was only but three inches long, or dereabouts. Ladies came from near and far, some wid big feet and some wid small, but none small enough to git it on howiver much dey pinched and squeezed. Poorer people came as well, but it was jus’ de same wid dem. And in course, all de sarvants tried, but dey was out’n altogether. De young master was a-dying. Was dere nobody else, his mother exed, nobody at all, rich or poor? ‘No,’ dey telt her, everybody’d tried it excepting it was Mossycoat.

  ‘Tell her to come at once,’ says de mistress.

  So dey fetched her.

  ‘Try dis slipper on,’ she says – dat’s de mistress.

  Mossycoat slips her foot into it easy enough; it fits her exac’ly. De young master jumps out o’ bed, and is jus’ a-going to tek her in his arms.

  ‘Stop,’ she says, and runs off; but afore long she’s back agen in her satin dress wid gowld sprigs, her gowld crown, and both her silver slippers. De young master is jus’ a-going to tek her in his arms.

  ‘Stop,’ she says, and agen she runs off. Dis time she comes back in her silk dress de color of all de birds o’ de air. She don’t stop him dis time, and as de saying used to be, he nearly eats her.

  After when dey’s all settled down agen, and is talking quiet-like, dere’s one or two things as de master and mistress and de young master’ld like to know. How did she get to dance, and back agen, in no time, they exed her. ‘Jus’ wishing,’ she says, and she tells ’em all as I’ve telt you about the magic coat her mother ’ed med for her, and de powers it give her if she cared to use ’em. ‘Yes, dat explains everything,’ dey says. Den dey bethinks theirselves of her saying as she came from where dey hit her on de head wid de skimmer. What did she mean by dat, dey wants to know. She meant jus’ what she said, she telt ’em; it was always coming down on her head, pop, pop, pop. They were right angry when dey heard dat, and de whole of de kitchen sarvants was telt to go, and de dogs sent arter dem to drive de varmints right away from de place.

  As soon as dey could Mossycoat and de young master got married, and she’d a coach and six to ride in, ai, ten if she liked, for you may be sure as she’d everything as she fancied. Dey lived happy ever after, and had a basketful o’ children. I was dere when de owld son comed of age, a-playing de fiddle. But dat was many years back, and I shouldn’t wonder if de owld master and mistress isn’t dead by now, though I’ve niver heerd tell as dey was.

  VASILISA THE PRIEST’S DAUGHTER

  (RUSSIAN)

  n a certain land, in a certain kingdom, there was a priest named Vasily who had a daughter named Vasilisa Vasilyevna. She wore man’s clothes, rode horseback, was a good shot with the rifle, and did everything in a quite unmaidenly way, so that only very few people knew that she was a girl; most people thought that she was a man and called her Vasily Vasilyevich, all the more so because Vasilisa Vasilyevna was very fond of vodka, and this, as is well known, is entirely unbecoming to a maiden. One day, King Barkhat (for that was the name of the king of that country) went to hunt game, and he met Vasilisa Vasilyevna. She was riding horseback in man’s clothes and was also hunting. When he saw her, King Barkhat asked his servants: ‘Who is that young man?’ One servant answered him: ‘Your Majesty, that is not a man, but a girl; I know for a certainty that she is the daughter of the priest Vasily and that her name is Vasilisa Vasilyevna.’

  As soon as the king returned home he wrote a letter to the priest Vasily asking him to permit his son Vasily Vasilyevich to come to visit him and eat at the king’s table. Meanwhile he himself went to the little old back yard witch and began to question her as to how he could find out whether Vasily Vasilyevich was really a girl. The little old witch said to him: ‘On the right side of your chamber hang up an embroidery frame, and on the left side a gun; if she is really Vasilisa Vasilyevna, she will first notice the embroidery frame; if she is Vasily Vasilyevich, she will notice the gun.’ King Barkhat followed the little old witch’s advice and ordered his servants to hang up an embroidery frame and a gun in his chamber.

  As soon as the king’s letter reached Father Vasily and he showed it to his daughter, she went to the stable, saddled a gray horse with a gray mane, and went straight to King Barkhat’s palace. The king received her; she politely said her prayers, made the sign of the cross as is prescribed, bowed low to all four sides, graciously greeted King Barkhat, and entered the palace with him. They sat together at table and began to drink heady drinks and eat rich viands. After dinner, Vasilisa Vasilyevna walked with King Barkhat through the palace chambers; as soon as she saw the embroidery frame she began to reproach King Barkhat: ‘What kind of junk do you have here, King Barkhat? In my father’s house there is no trace of such womanish fiddle-faddle, but in King Barkhat’s palace womanish fiddle-faddle hangs in the chambers!’ Then she politely said farewell to King Barkhat and rode home. The king had not found out whether she was really a girl.

  And so two days later – no more – King Barkhat again sent a letter to the priest Vasily, asking him to send his son Vasily Vasilyevich to the palace. As soon as Vasilisa Vasilyevna heard about this,
she went to the stable, saddled a gray horse with a gray mane, and rode straight to King Barkhat’s palace. The king received her. She graciously greeted him, politely said her prayers to God, made the sign of the cross as is prescribed, and bowed low to all four sides. King Barkhat had been advised by the little old back yard witch to order kasha cooked for supper and to have it stuffed with pearls. The little old witch had told him that if the youth was really Vasilisa Vasilyevna he would put the pearls in a pile, and if he was Vasily Vasilyevich he would throw them under the table.

  Supper time came. The king sat at table and placed Vasilisa Vasilyevna on his right hand, and they began to drink heady drinks and eat rich viands. Kasha was served after all the other dishes, and as soon as Vasilisa Vasilyevna took a spoonful of it and discovered a pearl, she flung it under the table together with the kasha and began to reproach King Barkhat. ‘What kind of trash do they put in your kasha?’ she said. ‘In my father’s house there is no trace of such womanish fiddle-faddle, yet in King Barkhat’s house womanish fiddle-faddle is put in the food!’ Then she politely said farewell to King Barkhat and rode home. Again the king had not found out whether she was really a girl, although he badly wanted to know.

  Two days later, upon the advice of the little old witch, King Barkhat ordered that his bath be heated; she had told him that if the youth really was Vasilisa Vasilyevna he would refuse to go to the bath with him. So the bath was heated.

  Again King Barkhat wrote a letter to the priest Vasily, telling him to send his son Vasily Vasilyevich to the palace for a visit. As soon as Vasilisa Vasilyevna heard about it, she went to the stable, saddled her gray horse with the gray mane, and galloped straight to King Barkhat’s palace. The king went out to receive her on the front porch. She greeted him civilly and entered the palace on a velvet rug; having come in, she politely said her prayers to God, made the sign of the cross as is prescribed, and bowed very low to all four sides. Then she sat at table with King Barkhat, and began to drink heady drinks and eat rich viands.

  After dinner the king said: ‘Would it not please you, Vasily Vasilyevich, to come with me to the bath?’ ‘Certainly, Your Majesty,’ Vasilisa Vasilyevna answered, ‘I have not had a bath for a long time and should like very much to steam myself.’ So they went together to the bathhouse. While King Barkhat undressed in the anteroom, she took her bath and left. So the king did not catch her in the bath either. Having left the bathhouse, Vasilisa Vasilyevna wrote a note to the king and ordered the servants to hand it to him when he came out. And this note ran: ‘Ah, King Barkhat, raven that you are, you could not surprise the falcon in the garden! For I am not Vasily Vasilyevich, but Vasilisa Vasilyevna.’ And so King Barkhat got nothing for all his trouble; for Vasilisa Vasilyevna was a clever girl, and very pretty too!

  THE PUPIL

  (SWAHILI)

  heikh Ali was an old teacher and Kibwana was his pupil. One day the teacher went out and the teacher’s wife called Kibwana: ‘You, young man, come quickly.’ ‘What for?’ ‘Stupid, you are hungry and you don’t know how to eat!’ ‘All right,’ said Kibwana when he at last understood. He went inside and lay with his teacher’s wife. The teacher’s wife taught him what the teacher did not teach him.

  THE RICH FARMER’S WIFE

  (NORWEGIAN)

  here was once a rich farmer who owned big property; silver was stowed away in his chest, and he had money in the bank besides; but he felt something was wanting, for he was a widower. One day his neighbor’s daughter was working for him, and he took a great fancy to her. As her parents were poor, he thought he had only to hint at marriage, and she would jump at the chance. So he told her he had really been thinking of getting married again.

  ‘Oh, yes, one can think all kinds of things,’ said the girl, chuckling to herself.

  She thought the ugly old fellow might have thought of something that suited him better than getting married.

  ‘Well, you see, I thought you might be my wife,’ said the farmer.

  ‘No, thank you,’ said the girl, ‘I can’t see much in that.’

  The farmer was not used to hearing ‘No’, and the less she wanted him, the crazier he was to have her.

  As he did not get anywhere with the girl, he sent for her father and told him, if he could manage to make her consent, he need not pay back the money he had borrowed off the farmer and he might have the field that lay next to his meadow into the bargain.

  Well, the father thought he would soon bring his daughter to her senses. ‘She is only a child,’ he said, ‘and doesn’t know what is best for her.’

  But all his talking and coaxing did no good. She would not have the farmer, not even if he was plastered all over with gold right up to his ears.

  The farmer waited day after day. Finally he grew so angry and impatient that he said to the girl’s father, if he were going to keep his promise, matters would have to be fixed at once, for he would not wait any longer.

  The father saw no way out of it except for the rich farmer to get everything ready for the wedding, and, when the parson and the wedding guests were there, to send for the girl just as if she were wanted for some work on the farm. When she came, he would have to marry her in a hurry, so she would have no chance to change her mind.

  The rich farmer thought this was all right, so he set to brewing and baking and getting ready for the wedding in grand style. When the guests had come, the rich farmer called one of his boys and told him to run down to the neighbor’s and ask him to send what he had promised.

  ‘But if you’re not back right away,’ he said, shaking his fist at the boy, ‘I’ll . . .’ he didn’t have a chance to say more, for the boy was off like a flash.

  ‘My boss wants you to send what you’ve promised him,’ said the boy when he got to the neighbor’s, ‘but you’ve got to hustle, for he’s in an awful hurry today.’

  ‘All right, run down to the meadow and take her along, for there you’ll find her,’ said the neighbor.

  The boy hurried off, and when he got to the meadow, he found the daughter raking.

  ‘I came to fetch what your father has promised my boss,’ he said.

  ‘Ah, ha, is that the way you’re going to fool me?’ thought the girl.

  ‘Is that what you’re after?’ she said. ‘I suppose it is that little bay mare of ours. You must go over and get her; she’s tethered on the other side of the peas.’

  The boy jumped on the back of the little bay mare and rode her home at full gallop.

  ‘Have you got her with you?’ said the rich farmer.

  ‘She’s down at the door,’ said the boy.

  ‘Take her up to my mother’s room,’ said the farmer.

  ‘Goodness gracious, how are you going to manage that?’ said the boy.

  ‘You just do as I tell you,’ said the farmer. ‘If you can’t manage it alone, get the others to help you.’ He thought the girl might make trouble.

  When the boy saw his master’s face, he knew there was no use arguing. So he got all the help and hurried down. Some tugged at the head, and some pushed behind, and at last they got the mare upstairs and into the bedroom. There lay the wedding finery all ready.

  ‘Well, I’ve finished the job, boss,’ said the boy, ‘but it was no easy matter, the very worst I’ve ever had to do on this farm.’

  ‘All right, you shan’t have done it for nothing,’ said the farmer. ‘Now send the women folk up to dress her.’

  ‘But, my goodness gracious!’ said the boy.

  ‘No nonsense,’ said the farmer; ‘tell them to dress her and to forget neither wreath nor crown.’

  The boy hurried down into the kitchen.

  ‘Now, listen, girls,’ he said, ‘hurry upstairs and dress the little bay mare as a bride. I guess the boss wants to make the wedding guests snicker.’

  Well, the girls dressed the little bay mare in everything that was there. Then the boy went down and said she was ready, with wreath and crown and all.

  ‘All right, bring her dow
n,’ said the rich farmer. ‘I’ll receive her myself at the door.’

  There was a terrible clatter on the stairs, for this bride did not come down in satin slippers. But when the door was opened, and the rich farmer’s bride came into the parlor, there was plenty of giggling and snickering.

  And as for the rich farmer, he was so pleased with his bride that he did not go courting again.

  KEEP YOUR SECRETS

  (WEST AFRICAN)

  certain girl was given by her parents to a young man in marriage. She did not care for the youth, so she refused and said that she would choose a husband for herself. Shortly after there came to the village a fine young man of great strength and beauty. The girl fell in love with him at first sight and told her parents that she had found the man she wished to marry, and as the latter was not unwilling the marriage soon took place.

  Now it happened that the young man was not a man at all, but a hyena, for although as a rule women change into hyenas and men into hawks, the hyena can change itself into either man or woman as it may please.

  During the first night the two newly married ones were sleeping together the husband said: ‘Supposing that when we go to my town we chance to quarrel on the road, what would you do?’ The wife answered that she would change herself into a tree. The man said that he would be able to catch her even then.