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Andersen, Hans Christian. “The Little Mermaid.” Hans Christian Andersen, 1837, hca.gilead.org.il/li_merma.html.

Crawford, Askaree. “The Hunchback of Notre Dame: Disability Through the Lense of Cinema.” Challenging Bodies, challengingbodies.wordpress.com/2018/01/27/the-hunchback-of-notre-dame-disability-through-the-lense-of-cinema-askaree-crawford. Accessed 11 Feb. 2021.

Donnelly, Colleen Elaine. “Re-Visioning Negative Archetypes of Disability and Deformity in Fantasy: Wicked, Maleficent, and Game of Thrones | Donnelly | Disability Studies Quarterly.” Disability Studies Quarterly, 2016, dsq-sds.org/article/view/5313/4470.

Dula, Adrion. “B(e)Aring the Beast: Deformity, Animality, and the Ableist Gaze in French Literary Variants of ‘Beauty and the Beast.’” ProQuest, Marvels & Tales, 2020, www.library.yorku.ca/ezproxy/?qurl=https%3a%2f%2fwww.proquest.com%2fdocview%2f2484293942%3faccountid%3d15182.

Grimm, Jacob, and Wilhelm Grimm. “The Frog King or Iron Heinrich.” Grimm 001, 1812, www.pitt.edu/%7Edash/grimm001.html.

---. “The Girl without Hands.” Grimm 031, 1812, www.pitt.edu/%7Edash/grimm031.html.

---. “The Six Swans.” Grimm 049, 1812, www.pitt.edu/%7Edash/grimm049.html.

Leduc, Amanda. “Disfigured.” CBC, 18 Feb. 2020, www.cbc.ca/books/disfigured-1.5419089.

LePrince de Beaumont, Jeanne-Marie. “Beauty and the Beast.” Beauty and the Beast, 1761, www.pitt.edu/%7Edash/beauty.html.

Shea, Sarah, et al. “Pathology in the Hundred Acre Wood: A Neurodevelopmental Perspective on A.A. Milne.” NCBI, 12 Dec. 2000, www.library.yorku.ca/ezproxy/?qurl=https%3a%2f%2fwww.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov%2fpmc%2farticles%2fPMC80580%2f.

Sjunneson-Henry, Elsa. “I Belong Where the People Are: Disability and The Shape of Water.” Tor.Com, 16 Jan. 2018, www.tor.com/2018/01/16/i-belong-where-the-people-are-disability-and-the-shape-of-water.

Yamato, Lori. “Surgical Humanization in H. C. Andersen’s ‘The Little Mermaid.’” Project MUSE, 2017, www.library.yorku.ca/ezproxy/?qurl=https%3a%2f%2fmuse.jhu.edu%2farticle%2f680309.

Yenika-Agbaw, Vivian. “Reading Disability in Children’s Literature: Hans Christian Andersen’s Tales.” Gale Academic Onefile, Jan. 2011, www.library.yorku.ca/ezproxy/?qurl=https%3a%2f%2fgo.gale.com%2fps%2fi.do%3fp%3dAONE%26u%3dyorku_main%26id%3dGALE%7cA249797852%26v%3d2.1%26it%3dr%26sid%3dAONE%26asid%3dc1f51325.

YouTube Movies. “Maleficent.” YouTube, uploaded by YouTube Movies, 30 May 2014, www.youtube.com/watch?v=SltWNqa5emE&ab_channel=YouTubeMovies.

---. “The Hunchback of Notre Dame.” YouTube, uploaded by YouTube Movies, 19 June 1996, www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_Cr6yR3zt4&ab_channel=YouTubeMovies.

---. “The Shape of Water.” YouTube, uploaded by YouTube Movies, 23 Dec. 2017, www.youtube.com/watch?v=dCgU_q06WWU&ab_channel=YouTubeMovies.

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After doing some extensive research on my topic of the portrayal and misconceptions of disabilities in fairy tales, I believe that I have learned a great deal about how characters are shown and the reasons as to why they are portrayed in such a way. From these articles, I find that disabled people tend to be characterized as villainous, monstrous, less than everyone else and the odd one out. These depictions of disabled characters in stories might be a reflection of the author's viewpoints to real disabled individuals. These viewpoints can be potentially dangerous to the design of characters in fairy tales as they can have harmful effects on its audience; this includes disabled adults, children and on a larger scope, society itself. This says a lot about able-bodied individuals and the privilege that they hold in storytelling and our society. Stories such as The Shape of Water, Beauty and the Beast, The Girl Without Hands, The Six Swans, The Hunchback of Notre Dame and etc, all play a role in the depiction of those with disabilities while countless other stories fail to address this topic entirely. I still need to learn more about different stories that have disabled characters, I want to learn more about the author's intent versus the execution of certain ideas as it relates to disability and how different time periods and nationalities affect disability in storytelling.

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The Hunchback of Notre Dame: Disability Through the Lense of Cinema (Askaree Crawford)

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The Hunchback of Notre Dame: Disability Through the Lense of Cinema (Askaree Crawford)

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Books · Canadian

Disfigured: On Fairy Tales, Disability, and Making Space is a book by Amanda Leduc.

Amanda Leduc

Challenges the ableism of fairy tales and offers new ways to celebrate the magic of all bodies. In fairy tales, happy endings are the norm - as long as you're beautiful and walk on two legs. After all, the ogre never gets the princess. And since fairy tales are the foundational myths of our culture, how can a girl with a disability ever think she'll have a happy ending? By examining the ways that fairy tales have shaped our expectations of disability, Disfigured will point the way toward a new world where disability is no longer a punishment or impediment but operates, instead, as a way of centering a protagonist and helping them to cement their own place in a story, and from there, the world. Through the book, Leduc ruminates on the connections we make between fairy tale archetypes - the beautiful princess, the glass slipper, the maiden with long hair lost in the tower - and tries to make sense of them through a twenty-first-century disablist lens. From examinations of disability in tales from the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen through to modern interpretations ranging from Disney to Angela Carter, and the fight for disabled representation in today's media, Leduc connects the fight for disability justice to the growth of modern, magical stories, and argues for increased awareness and acceptance of that which is other - helping us to see and celebrate the magic inherent in different bodies. (From Coach House Books)

Leduc is the communications and development coordinator for the Festival of Literary Diversity (FOLD) in Brampton, Ont. She is also the author of the novel The Miracles of Ordinary Men. She was longlisted for the 2019 CBC Short Story Prize.

"Those who we would traditionally think of as disabled people don't see themselves represented as protagonists in fairy tales - and able-bodied people don't see disabled people in fairy tales at all. What happens is you see disabled people or disability represented in the villains. There's always an understanding that disability is either something that's temporary - it's visited on someone and it's something that they need to overcome - in order to get their happy ending.

The idea is that disability is visited on someone as a punishment for how bad a person they are. There's a lasting impact when you're exposed to stories like that from a young age. - Amanda Leduc

"When it does happen to the villain, it's the queen in Snow White who transforms herself into an ugly hag or one of the versions of Cinderella when the stepsisters have their eyes pecked out at the end as punishment for how evil they are and how badly they've treated Cinderella.

"The idea is that disability is visited on someone as a punishment for how bad a person they are. There's a lasting impact when you're exposed to stories like that from a young age. It couches and influences how you view disability in the real world, both in terms of yourself as a disabled person if you are disabled and then also if you're someone who's ostensibly viewing disability from the outside as an able-bodied person."
Read more in her interview with The Next Chapter.
Interviews with Amanda Leduc

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Books · Canadian Disfigured: On Fairy Tales, Disability, and Making Space is a book by Amanda Leduc. Challenges the ableism of fairy tales and offers new ways to celebrate the magic of all bodies. In fairy tales, happy endings are the norm - as long as you're beautiful and walk on two legs.

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Re-visioning Negative Archetypes of Disability and Deformity in Fantasy: Wicked, Maleficent, and Game of Thrones

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Re-visioning Negative Archetypes of Disability and Deformity in Fantasy: Wicked, Maleficent, and Game of Thrones

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The Intersection of Negative Archetypes and Disability

Our expectations of what evil looks like in fantasy are predicated on archetypes created by long-established cultural myths. In America, the wicked witch, while based on the ugly old hag of European fairy tales, is reaffirmed through the Wizard of Oz (1939). Disney altered the hag in Sleeping Beauty (1959) and Snow White and the Seven Dwarves (1937) by presenting Maleficent and the Queen as vain femme fatales, utilizing a classic archetype of a bad woman. Dwarves have been presented as a race of stout, earth and mountain dwelling miners, sometimes susceptible to obstinacy and greed, as in Tolkien's Hobbit (1937) and C.S. Lewis's Chronicles of Narnia (1950-1956), and made childlike by Disney or in the presentation of munchkins in the Wizard of Oz movie. Often throughout history, villains and malefactors have also been presented as monstrous, disabled or deformed.

Visual horror, adventure, and fantasy often exploit disabled people by presenting them as embodiments of terror and evil, as Bogdan, Bilken, Shapiro, and Spelkoman have observed (32-34). Over the past few decades, "disability [has] serve[d] as an interpretive force that confronts cultural truisms" (Mitchell and Snyder 48) to "provide powerful counterpoints to respective cultures' normalizing Truths about the construction of deviance" (Mitchell and Snyder 50) and to disrupt that stereotypical equation. In some contemporary fantasy, we have seen archetypically evil characters redefined primarily by the telling of their backstories, which is intended to provide a rationale for their behavior and to evoke sympathy or pity from the audience. However, pity is not simply an emotional response, as Hayes and Black contend, it "places the viewer into an asymmetrical power relationship with the object of pity," where the viewer is made to seem benevolent or compassionate. This is true of the wicked witches, Nessarose and Elphaba, in Wicked the stage play (2003) and expected 2019 movie, of Maleficent, in the movie of the same name (2014), and of Tyrion in Game of Thrones (2010 - present). This essay explores depictions of disability - Nessarose's paralysis and Maleficent's maiming - and depictions of deformity - Elphaba's greenness and Tyrion's dwarfism. In these cases, each character suffers from a disability or deformity that is intended to alter the audience's response to the archetypal antagonist-wicked witch or surly dwarf.

The visual performance adds an important dimension to these characters' presentations. In a literary narrative, either we hear only the thoughts and experiences related by a single first-person narrator, or, as is most common in the fantasy sources for the works discussed here, a third-person narrator directs our impressions by relating certain events, encounters, and verbal exchanges, while sometimes accessing characters' thoughts. In visual performances, the appearance of the character is always present before us, which places emphasis not only on the actions we see and the words we hear spoken (since thoughts are not accessible except through soliloquy) but also highlights the interactions between the character and his or her community that we witness, as a watching, gazing audience. The social construction of the character is foregrounded through visual performance. As Ellis and Goggin observe, "there is good reason to take seriously the notion that representation is intimately involved in the policing of how we relate to disability, and indeed what is accepted as normal in our societies" (84). The fictional community can represent and model behavior for the audience, affording us the opportunity to confront how society responds to disabled people, as we watch their interactions depicted on stage and screen.

Leslie Fiedler observes people first enter realms where they learn to perceive what qualifies them as normal and others as freakish in children's literature: stories from childhood provide part of the foundation for "maturity [which] involves the ability to believe the self normal, only the other a monster or a Freak" (23). While fantasy may seem removed from contemporary concerns and realistic portrayals, adults watching modernized visual fantasies not only revisit values and views instilled during childhood, they see, vividly displayed, deep-seated and unexamined perceptions and attitudes that have been reinforced by cultural and political contexts as normative.

Bogdan and Biklen, Hahn, Norden, Ellis and Goggin, and others have discussed how disabled people are depicted as villains or victims in media. Longmore observes that "among the most persistent [stereotypes] is the association of disability with malevolence. Deformity of body symbolizes deformity of soul. Physical handicaps are made the emblems of evil" (133). Starting with Bogdan's, Biklen's, Shapiro's, and Spelkoman's observation that the media stereotypically presents disabled people as objects of pity, ridicule, and/or as dangerous (32), Colin Barnes lists a dozen categories into which disabled people are cast and to which the characters discussed here fit: "pitiable and pathetic, sinister and evil, burden, object of ridicule, object of violence, and incapable of participating fully in communal life." Norden also details cinematic types including sweet innocents, saintly sages, civilian superstars, and techno marvels. As Rosemarie Garland-Thomson describes, disabled people are portrayed as "other" against normative culture "in social relationships in which one group is legitimated by possessing valued physical characteristics and maintains its ascendancy and its self-identity by systematically imposing the role of cultural or corporeal inferiority on others" (7). This results in disabled people being stigmatized. Goffman tells us that society engages in believing that they have "undesirable differences," are "inferior," "dangerous," and "not quite human" (5-6). They are different than "normals" (Goffman 5) or what Garland Thomson and others call "normates" (8) - a term coined to foreground the fact that normal is a social position of a subject who looks down upon those having physical or cultural differences while casting them in the role of "other."

Hervey has demonstrated that visual representations of disabled people often tell us more about how society chooses to see disabled people than about the lives and experience of the disabled themselves. The representations are "tied not to the observed, disabled people, but to the non-disabled observers ... to fulfil a role for [the observer]" (Hervey 345), 1 shedding light of the prejudices of the normative culture "which commodifies disabled imagery as a site for fear or pity" (Hervey 346). Film situates the spectators in the audience

to perceive the world depicted ... and by implication the world in general, from the [able-bodied] perspective and thus associate themselves with able-bodied characters, this strategy has a two-fold effect: in enhances the disabled characters' isolation and "otherness" by reducing them to objectifications of pity, fear, scorn, etc. - in short, objects of spectacle - as a means of pandering to an able-bodied majority. (Norden 1)

I would argue that this is true of visual narratives and performance in general. Norden (6) and Williams (83-85) assert that the audience is invited to participate in a gaze that gratifies normative (or what Norden calls "ableist") spectators and which echoes the gaze modeled by the normative community presented within the work. Garland-Thomson goes a step further arguing that, in the case of the disabled body, the gaze turns into a stare "sculpt[ing] the disabled subject into a grotesque spectacle ... framing [the] body as an icon of deviance" (24).

In the works we will look at here, that stare, which often goes unremarked, is actually laid bare, and we are asked to confront the gaze and the judgments and behaviors in which spectators and society engage. These works question and sometimes denounce the audience's perspective rather than reaffirming the viewpoint and values of that society, thus allowing us, as the viewing audience, to reexamine our consumption of the stereotypes we have learned and our often unexamined behaviors towards those whom we often label and treat as "others." We are engaging in an investigation of what Ato Quayson calls "aesthetic nervousness" which, in literary texts, "is the interaction between a disable and nondisabled character, where a variety of tensions may be identified ... . The final dimension of aesthetic nervousness is that between the reader and the text" (254) and is indicative of social attitudes toward disability. Such an inquiry can easily be extended to visual texts and performances where we also find

subliminal cultural assumptions about the disabled [brought] out into the open for examination ... [so] that the nondisabled may ultimately be brought to recognize the sources of the constructedness of the normate and the prejudices that flow from it. (Quayson 256)

Quayson argues the representation of disability transcends the literary domain and refuses to be assimilated by it, so that readers are forced to confront their nervousness regarding disabled people in the real world. Visual performance further enhances this dynamic, holding up a mirror of our attitudes and behavior before our eyes.

Disability and Deformity in Wicked

Many members of the disabled community are quite rightly disturbed and disappointed by the fact that Wicked's Nessarose in presented as evil, seeing in her characterization the too common stereotype of disability as evil. Haller observes that "Nessarose does become powerfully wicked. Th[e] scene near the beginning of Act II embraces many stereotypes typically embedded into fiction with disabled characters, i.e. disability equals evil." However, Haller does not take into consideration that Nessa's transformation into a "wicked" witch is solely a result of the events which have taken place in Act I nor does she take consider the complications that arise when evoking archetypal figures that have long existed in our cultural mythology. In this remake, there is a need for the character's new story to mesh with the well-known predecessor-a pressure not posed when inventing a new, contemporary story or character. The author is challenged to conform to certain events and outcomes in the original. The author may provide alternative perspectives by the inclusion of disability, but still feel the need to allow the original ending and its apparent resolution to persist or at least appear to, though now we are privy to previously concealed information. Thus, to fairly address how disability and deformity are being used and treated in these newer versions, we need to also consider their relationship to the sources that they respond to or transform. Surprisingly, we may find that the greatest difference between the new and older stories is in how the community is depicted, no longer as idealistically and morally superior to the villain or antagonist. Given that the antagonist is disabled or deformed, much is revealed about the social construction and response to disability and deformity. In what Goffman describes as a primal sociological scene, stigma is confronted, as the stigmatized individual, not knowing which of the disabled categories s/he is placed in - pitied, dangerous, etc. - engages normals whose responses are mediated by how they assess the stigmatizing difference (8-19).

Numerous reviewers recognize the social commentary offered by the musical and note the lessons it offers on altruism, prejudice, gender, power and authority. 2 Wicked is at heart the story of the inner beauty of those ostracized and perceived as different and a condemnation of the shallowness and intolerance peddled as being in the best interest of the society as a whole. At the beginning of the play, Nessarose is not presented as wicked but is presented as a disabled wheelchair user. As she goes off to college, her father awkwardly gifts her jeweled shoes, which he offers as "befitting the future governor of Munchkinland." This gesture connects Wicked to the Wizard of Oz, foreboding the disaster of the original story; yet what is also interesting is what it subliminally suggests about being powerful in normative culture: a leader needs to be ambulatory. The shoes function as symbols that Nessa lacks what is required to rule. This is one of the early signs that social views are awry. Nessa is presented as a "burden" who needs people to care for her, from her sister to Ms. Morrible, and as someone who, stereotypically, needs to be pitied. What follows is atypical. Galinda, rather than following in the footsteps of the "good" witch Glinda of Oz, who we assume would act altruistically, uses Nessa to forward her own agenda, to fend off the unwanted advances of a male suitor, Boq. She asks him to take Nessa to the dance: "see that tragically beautiful girl, the one in the chair; it seems so unfair we should go on a spree, and not she" (I. i.). 3 In accordance with the stereotype of disabled women, Nessa is undesired by the opposite sex (Asch and Rich 244, and Garland Thomson 24). The future good witch Galinda's apparent charity is actually self-interest, as is Boq's agreement to attend to Nessa, which he does solely to get into Galinda's good graces. Galinda's treatment of Nessa and her tricking of Elphaba into wearing the traditional witch's hat demonstrate that she represents the popular mean girl. Nessa responds with almost incredulous naiveté, incredibly grateful to Galinda, and immediately falling head-over-heels in love with Boq. In the first act, while it is troubling that Nessa is presented as stereotypically pitiable, a sheltered and socially naïve sweet innocent, what is unexpectedly disturbing is the portrayal of the community that victimizes her for its own selfish ends. The people of Shiz look shallow and self-interested, lacking any true compassion and making no real effort to simply engage Nessa as they would a normate new member of their community.

How is it that Nessa becomes less likeable and sympathetic in Act II? It is by becoming self-interested, like the shallow, self-serving munchkins presented in Act I. This has nothing to do with her disability; disability is not equated with evil here. Her newfound malevolence is the result of self-interest and tyranny and internalizing the values of the society which she now heads. In Act II, Nessa now has power and agency which she lacked in Act I. Yet, for the first time, she is self-pitying, something we never saw in Act 1, as is evident when she blames her sister for not healing her: "all my life I've depended on you and this hideous chair with wheels, scrounging for craps of pity to pick up" (II. ii.). The loss of her dotting father and the inheritance of his power drives Nessa to oppress the munchkins and to lash out against the one truly magnanimous person in her life, her sister. Boq reveals that she tyrannically rules the munchkins and that he sees her as his ruler rather than as a lover; he calls her "Madame" and does not reciprocate Nessa's feelings for him. She blames Elphaba for their father's death and for taking up causes, such as that of the talking animals in opposition to him, rather than choosing to help her. She now embodies his views of Elphaba, as well as society's, self-pitifully chastising Elphaba for using her powers altruistically to "rescue" animals but never her. Out of a false sense of guilt, Elphaba casts a spell on the shoes given to Nessa by their father, unleashing a frenzied series of tragic events. After Elphaba enchants the shoes so that Nessa can walk, Nessa is forced to face the fact that Boq does not love her, and she feels betrayed by him. Seeing that she is no longer a paraplegic, Boq decides he is free to pursue his real love Galinda - now Glinda. Having already becoming a tyrant, having inherited her father's position, Nessarose is not satisfied by being able to walk; rather it makes her greedily want it all, including the "happily ever-after" love, no matter the cost or whether the love is truly reciprocated. Rashly driven to have all she desires and intending to bind Boq through magic, Nessa frantically snatches Elphaba's book, to which she is not entitled and containing spells she cannot understand or control, and she casts a spell that almost kills him. She pleads with Elphaba to do something, and Elphaba can only save Boq, who's heart has shrunk, by turning him to tin. Spells, like wishes, do not always achieve the intended results; you need to "be careful what you wish for." Instead of taking responsibility for her actions, Nessa shifts the blame to Elphaba, telling Boq it was all her sister's fault, colluding with society in scapegoating Elphaba and, in essence, betraying Elphaba. Ironically, Nessa fails to see she has acted like Boq and the rest of society who use "others" to get what they want and abuse them. By inheriting her father's position and power and being magically healed, Nessa is transformed, and, for the first time, she is called the Wicked Witch of the East (II. ii). In internalizing the values and views of others and acting more like members of "normate" society - tyrannical, intolerant, and self-serving - she grows desperate and evil, and ultimately propels herself toward her untimely demise that converges with the original Wizard of Oz.

Wicked exposes how society colluded in creating the Wicked Witch of the East. Nessa's death is subsequently presented as a tragic "accident" for which Elphaba wrongly blames herself and that Glinda bemoans beyond the ears of the munchkins, while allowing the society within the play to maintain its perceptions and prejudices. However, rather than disability stereotypically being equated with evil, the attentive audience watching Wicked witnesses the disabled individual who is easily victimized, socially isolated, and pitied by society, and Act II explores the possible consequences of that stigmatization. The theater audience sees Nessa as others perceive her and watches as her perceptions and actions are shaped by their influence. Nessarose never completely becomes the Wicked Witch of Baum; moreover, condemnation now falls on the community revealed to be culpable in contributing to the evolution of her villainous character.

While the disabled beauty is an object of pity, the "ugly" is immediately derided and ridiculed. Elphaba's greenness is presented as a deformity. In a fantasy society marked by racial and individual heterogeneity - including munchkins, talking animals, witches and wizards - tolerance of difference seems to be the norm. Yet, Elphaba is ostracized and alienated from birth, rejected by parent and society. In Wicked, her skin-color is not tolerated; it is treated like leprosy or vitiligo, a disease that causes dis-ease, and Oz culture is shown as shallowly only caring about superficial beauty. Her skin color is also treated as a sign: the sin of the parent is visited on the innocent child, inherited much like the mark of Cain. She is born as the result of her mother's adultery with a man who touted a green potion, a man given to one night stands and drink, and later revealed to be the wizard. Morrible, the wizard's press secretary says, "her green skin is an outward manifestation of her twisted nature" (I. xvii). At her birth, her father calls her an "it," saying, "it's obscene. Like froggy, ferny cabbage - the baby is unnaturally - green" (I. i.), and the rest of society chimes in agreeing. Such judgments seem absurd to the audience given the fantastic diversity of Oz, and again highlights the society's prejudice and culpability in the ensuing events. Despite being ridiculed and tricked by the popular, mean kids - as when Galinda pretends to be helping her make friends by tricking her into wearing the black, pointed hat - Elphaba is a caring individual who, in contrast to the rest of munchkin society, takes up the causes of those who are oppressed, as in advocating for the animals being stripped of their rights and subjected to experimentation. Though she is ostracized and "othered," Elphaba has personal integrity; she acts altruistically in contrast to the one actually labelled the "good" witch, Glinda. But while Elphaba's intentions are always pure and good, the magic she wields, as she learns, is unpredictable and sometimes has unintended and irreversible consequences. Rather than reflecting her intentions, labels such as "good" and "wicked," like magic, are often beyond her control and are assigned by onlookers - by the society within the play, as well as the audience watching.

Sadly, what Elphaba chooses to do in the end is accept the label of "wicked" and fulfill the role of scapegoat that society casts upon her. Elphaba begins by accepting the social stereotype that disabled and deformed women "fail to measure up on grounds of appearance or of perceived abilities in physical and emotional care taking" (Asch and Rich 246), and she defers to Glinda because Glinda is blonde and beautiful. Elphaba's acceptance of her assigned inferior status is reflected in her singing "I'm not that girl." To its credit, Wicked challenges the stereotype by having Elphaba find love with Fiyero who chooses the woman beautiful on the inside. Yet, their relationship remains clandestine, and they must pay for a love that does not conform to social standards by accepting exile, if they are to stay together. While munchkin society celebrates the seeming destruction of the spinster Wicked Witch of the West, conforming to the ending of the Wizard of Oz, Wicked diverges from the original to reveal an illusion bigger than the true nature of the Wizard behind the curtain, and this revelation is only available to the audience watching the play. Clearly, unlike Baum's witch, Elphaba maintains personal integrity. In contrast to the wizard who managed his image for his own self-aggrandizement and is finally discovered, Elphaba is compelled to manage an image created for her by a society that never cares to learn her true nature. She uses the community's rumors and inflamed prejudices that she is dangerous and to be feared to protect those she cares for, and, in the end, allows society to retain its illusions. The Wizard's and Ms. Morrible's plots are never uncovered, the animals' plight remains unaddressed, and, although Glinda knows much of the truth, she keeps it to herself and tells the citizens that they have survived a frightful time. She vows that in the future she will act in their best interests and try to live up to the title of Glinda the Good. While Glinda has grown through her relationship with Elphaba, Elphaba is sacrificed, supposedly to restore social order. Glinda conspires to preserve the pretenses of a supposed utopian society, agreeing to suppress the truth in favor of spin that allows the community to delude itself, to go on as though it has experienced a catharsis by seeming to destroy the evil influence, while never recognizing its own malevolence. Mitchell might say of Wicked, as he has of literary narrative, "disability inaugurates narrative, but narrative inevitable punishes its own prurient interests by overseeing the extermination of the object of its fascination" (57). The audience watches as Wicked ends in disingenuous harmony: society is happily deluded and able to cling to its original prejudices.

While Wicked clearly contains overt themes of friendship, self-sacrifice, the power of change, forgiveness and reconciliation, its troubling undercurrent about the role and power of society to stigmatize individuals it perceives as different and delimit their participation in that society should not be overlooked. Considering this, one of the lesser recognized songs becomes one of the most powerful messages of the play. The Wizard sings,

Where I come from, we believe all sorts of things that aren't true. We call it history. A man's called a traitor or liberator, a rich man's a thief or philanthropist. Is one a crusader or ruthless invader? It's all in which label is able to persist. There are precious few at ease with moral ambiguities, so we act as though they don't exist. (II. iv.)

The society the Wizard comes from is not fantastic Oz but the U.S., and his song indicts any society that victimizes, labels, and stigmatizes vulnerable individuals to preserve the status quo or legitimize its view of normalcy. While we may not like the fact that the disabled Nessa becomes evil, the play is not reinforcing the myth that disability or deformity is a sign of moral turpitude. The witches, the deformed and disabled, are used as scapegoats; their defeat is intended to be a cathartic sacrifice for the good of society. We are asked to consider not only whether those who are ostracized deserve to be sacrificed, but we are also asked to question the values and views that society thinks it is protecting. In his discussion of cinematic representations of disability in normality genre films, Darke says the representation of impairment is socially constructed to offer society "an entertaining and socially accessible and soothing (ideological) and reinforcing form" that culturally represents the Other for "the validation and reinforcement of normality" (191). Wicked exposes a social construction that needs to be acknowledged: evil is often the result of the victimization, prejudice, and stigmatization that society perpetuates.

Disability in Maleficent

In Disney's Sleeping Beauty, the version that most of us grew up with, Maleficent places a curse on Aurora because she was snubbed by not being invited to the child's christening. Her overreaction demonstrates that she is shallow and mean-spirited; she is a femme-fatale portrayed as vain, proud, and barren. Having Angelina Jolie play the villainess potentially evokes the femme fatale who uses her beauty to seduce. Maleficent, however, seduces no one; instead her beauty actually facilitates challenging the stereotype of the disabled woman as undesirable and evil. Maleficent, like Wicked, intends to reform the stereotype of the evil witch by providing a backstory. The film first uses disability to elicit sympathy for the character and stereotypically casts her as an object of pity, but then goes beyond that to blame society for her marginalization and to present her as reclaiming her agency rather than as a disempowered victim.

As in Wicked, society and the actions of its members seem more malevolent than the characters traditionally consider villains. Rather than acting as a seducer, Maleficent is seduced and then betrayed by the one she presumes is her first love. Stephan's greed and obsession with power drives him to maim Maleficent. Stefan disables her, literally removing her "limbs." She seems poised to be added to the roll of villainous amputees (Norden 218-220). Her crippling has been erroneously compared to a rape, but there is nothing sexual here. Stefan deprives Maleficent of her primary source of ambulation; she can no longer fly and requires a staff even to walk. (This gives the staff Maleficent had in Sleeping Beauty function and purpose.) Stephan's aggression also turns Maleficent into a story of xenophobia and attempted conquest of an "other" that possesses wealth that normate, human society covets. While the creatures of the moors elect no king or queen, Maleficent is clearly their protector and leader. While she has her wings, Maleficent successfully leads the moor creatures in defending their lands against King Henry. When Stephan disables her, he also curtails her power. Unable to proactively lead her people in battle, she still acts as benefactor and protector, enlisting the aid of Diaval whom she sends to act on her behest, since she cannot act autonomously as she did before. She erects a protective wall of thorns around the moors to keep Stephan and his men out. While his young daughter grows up under the curse Maleficent has placed upon her, Stefan "darken[s], further consumed by paranoia and vengeance." He desires not only to destroy the curse but to destroy the moors and plunder the lands. Despite the fact that the curse is broken and Aurora wakens, he is still determined to kill Maleficent. His xenophobia is obvious. "How does it feel? To be a fairy creature without wings in a world where you don't belong?" he asks, as dressed in full armor, he approaches the unarmed, kneeling Maleficent to execute her. In this modernization, evil is vanquished not by the death of Maleficent but by Stephan plunging from the tower to his death. Maleficent elicits a different response to the presumed villainess than Sleeping Beauty, for the audience understands her justified initial rage and desire for revenge and recognizes that Stefan is the real villain of the story.

Maleficent does not cast the curse upon Aurora because she has been slighted as in Sleeping Beauty, but rather because she has been betrayed by the boy she trusted and believed loved her.

Maleficent: ... A sleep from which she will never awaken!
Stefan: Maleficent, please don't do this, I'm begging you.
Maleficent: I like you begging. Do it again.
[Stefan hesitates a moment before kneeling in front of Maleficent.]
Stefan: I beg you.
Maleficent: All right. The princess can be woken from her death sleep, but only by ... true love's kiss. This curse will last till the end of time! ( Maleficent) 4

In a departure from Sleeping Beauty, it is Maleficent, not one of the fairy godmothers, who turns death into a sleep spell, though she presumes the spell will last forever. The fact that true love's kiss, presumably a romantic kiss, can save Aurora is poetic justice, instigated by the betrayal that Maleficent experienced herself, rather than by the jealousy or vanity that characterized the Maleficent of Sleeping Beauty. However, while the kiss by the archetypal prince charming breaks the curse in Sleeping Beauty, here, Maleficent evokes true love's kiss for its futility, since Stephan's betrayal has taught her to believe no such thing exists. The complicating action of this revised version is the fact that the revenge is not directly against the deserved aggressor but against an innocent child.

This is a fact Maleficent soon comes to regret, and when the bumbling pixies prove "unequal to the task" of caring for Aurora, it is Maleficent, who, while calling her "it" and "beasty," acts as her guardian, making sure she is nurtured and protected. Sexuality and reproduction are not issues for the fairy folk of the story, so stereotyping a disabled woman as barren is not an issue here. A disabled woman, however, is often presented as an inadequate or inept maternal figure (Asch and Fine 244-45), and that stereotype is indeed challenged by this portrayal of Maleficent. While the fairies her father has picked to care for Aurora are ill-suited for the task, the disabled "villain" is a capable maternal, nurturing character. Aurora calls Maleficent, who is always nearby looking out for her, "godmother," while she calls the bumbling fairies "aunties" rather than "fairy godmothers" as in Sleeping Beauty. Maleficent's seeming disdain while caring for Aurora provides some of the most charming moments of the movie. We are amused by her dry humor and touched by her growing devotion to the child, which proves that her heart has not hardened forever. Unlike her predecessor, having recovered the capacity to love, Maleficent tries to take back her curse but cannot; not only are there limits to magic, such a departure from the original would truncate the story and eliminate the climax. However, in this revised version, true love's kiss is not delivered by an infatuated boy Aurora barely knows, but rather by the creature who has become her adopted mother. Feminist fairy-tale scholars, including Karen Rowe who delineates the problems with the idealized romantic love and marriage perpetuated by fairy tales (237-239), should be pleased by the challenge to that archetypal resolution offered by Maleficent. Aurora is not awoken by the typical romantic kiss; resolution occurs when she receives the kiss of long-proven maternal love. Moreover, this revision is more poignant in further challenging the norms of family often observed by such stories, in that the child is saved by the love of an adoptive parent who raised her. In what can best be called a feminist revision of the classic fairy tale, romantic ideals and negative female stereotypes are challenged as the audience witnesses Maleficent's positive agency.

The stereotypes of friendless villain and isolated disabled person are also challenged in Maleficent. While in Wicked, Shiz society pities Nessarose and no one truly befriends her, Maleficent is never pitied; Stefan and his people despise her. Maleficent, however, finds a true friend in Diaval, the raven she saves from death, who vows to serve her and who shape-shifts under her power - primarily to allow him to communicate with her in human form. She depends on him to be her "wings," as she says, sending him to act on her behalf since she cannot act autonomously as she did before. This is not the servitude or obedience commonly demanded by villains and tyrants. While Diaval begins as Maleficent's servant, he rapidly develops into a fond friend, and their mutual devotion is clear by the end. Diaval acts as trusted confidant rather than servant, nudging Maleficent to care for Aurora as her affection for the child grows. His loyalty contrasts Stephan's betrayal. Though she releases him, intending to face her enemy alone, he chooses to accompany her:

Diaval: ... If we go inside those walls, we'll never come out alive.
Maleficent: Then don't come, it's not your fight.
Diaval: Huh. Well thank you very much. "I need you, Diaval. I can't do this without you, Diaval."

While in Sleeping Beauty Maleficent turns herself into a dragon and meets her death, here it is Diaval who transforms to fight to protect her. Diaval is never shown pitying Maleficent: he speaks his mind, counsels, and gets annoyed at her; he helps her and demonstrates his devotion, as she does to him. The movie ends with the two friends freely flying together, Maleficent winged once again and Diaval, in his preferred form, a raven. Such friendships are not commonly portrayed even in more realistic contemporary media; pity, discomfort, disdain, and patronizing behavior are overwhelmingly presented as normative societal responses to the disabled. Disabled individuals are usually isolated, and, in the few cases where friendships are represented, they are usually between characters who are both "othered" or outside normate society (Arndt, White and Chervenak).

Maleficent's true nature is explained by the narrator who is revealed to be Aurora, an authority on the facts of the story. The story of the disabled villainess is not told from the perspective of the disabled person but from the "ableist" perspective, a problem noted by Norden throughout cinematic history in the representation of disabled people (282). The intent here is to elicit sympathy, to make Maleficent's villainy more palatable and to rehabilitate her image. If the story were told first-person by Maleficent, whom the audience has been traditionally taught to condemn as an archetypal evil enchantress, her motives and truthfulness would be questioned. Having an accepted member of the human community who has witnessed her actions first-hand is essential to credibly challenge the villainous label that has been ascribed to Maleficent.

Through Aurora we learn that Maleficent, previously known to human society only as the villain, has regained her wings and returned to her natural state before Stefan betrayed her. As he falls to his death, Maleficent, winged once again, ascends. Justice is served: she is avenged, as she successfully defends herself, not to again be the victim of his aggression. Such restitution or reward usually only befalls the protagonist of fairy tales. Not only is she granted a boon typically reserved for heroes, the viewing audience witnesses the rehabilitation of her reputation. Aurora becomes queen, uniting the human and moorish lands, with Maleficent's blessing. As narrator, she ends the story by making Maleficent and the role of villain ambiguous: "my kingdom was united not by a hero or a villain, as legend had predicted, but by one who was both hero and villain."

Does a single malicious act make one evil? Clearly Maleficent challenges that. Maleficent cast a curse, but her actions are otherwise altruistic. The real malevolent force, Stephan, escapes detection by his own people. Being part of society rather than ostracized from it afforded him protection. Stephan's greed, betrayal, and vindictiveness are never revealed to his subjects, the human society within the film. Maleficent, like Wicked, observes that history has primarily been written by the victors and revises that history. What is revealed to the audience is how society can cast aspersions and label those it sees as dangerous "others"-different and disabled-to justifying its own actions. As Davis observes, we readily label that which we do not know and represent difference as deviance to propagate the ideologies and power of normate society (26).

Disability and Deformity in Game of Thrones

By sheer breadth and length, Game of Thrones contains numerous archetypes and stock figures familiar from the fantasy feudal world-brawny heroes, fair unknowns/bastards who become heroes, femme fatales, tyrants, loyal seconds, and dangerous undead. Among these are a number of stereotypically represented villains and disabled characters. Melisandre, the red witch, is a femme fatale who uses both seductive language and sexuality to influence Stannis Baratheon. Bran Stark typifies a character rewarded with "a compensatory, mystical power as a result of his disability" (Harvey and Nelles), exemplifying the 'disability superpower" trope. Stannis' daughter, Shireen, is deformed and, therefore, isolated and marginalized. For that reason, though an innocent, she is expendable and becomes a scapegoat and human sacrifice intended to ensure her father's success. We cannot imagine that a marriageable daughter, a useful commodity in such a feudal world where marriages seal peace, would have been discarded so readily; as she approaches adolescence, she becomes the undesirable freak.

Jamie Lannister, the king-slayer, is a man of prowess. Upon losing his hand, he is no longer the agile fighter he previously was. Jamie, while not without some understanding of the machinations of feudal society, has both lived a life of privilege and depended upon his prowess to maintain his station; he has not lived his life as other - deformed or disabled like his brother, Tyrion. Upon losing his arm, he also loses his standing and, as Lambert notes, advocates death as preferable to disability (26). Humbled by his disability, he develops greater humanity, becomes more introspective and caring, yet, he is less effectual in this quintessentially feudal world that is harsh and unforgiving to the disabled and deformed (Ellis). No longer fit to be the Hand of the King, no longer an adversary to be physically feared, he is forced to depend upon others for his survival and success, such as Brie and Bronn. Even with Bronn's help, he cannot protect his daughter, Myrcella, from the nefarious forces out to murder her. A greater intellect may have been able to predict Ellaria's deceit. Ellaria's wheelchair-bound brother-in-law, Doran Martell, a wise man who has learned to value peace over war, lacks the acuity to recognize her deception, and the disabled man proves an ineffectual leader, unequal to this fierce femme fatale. While Doran cultivates wit and intellect as tools for leardership, Tyrion recognizes that these are the very tools that enable him to survival. Tyrion, who has always lived as the deformed other ostracized by normate society, defies stereotype unlike many other disabled and deformed characters of Westeros.

Tyrion is a departure from the archetypal dwarf. In fantasy, dwarves have been presented as a race of people, from their medieval and folk tales sources to Narnia and Middle Earth. They are generally depicted as miners, metal-workers, and/or earth-dwellers. They can be capable fighters but are sometimes prone to greed and obstinacy. Gimli of Lord of the Rings is heroic. The dwarves of The Hobbit appear warm, fun-loving, and loyal, yet they are also portrayed as obstructive, needy, greedy and vengeful. In The Last Battle of Narnia, they are surly, self-interested and spiritually blind. In Disney's Sleeping Beauty they are childlike. One can argue that the "little people" of Baum divide into two types - the munchkins of Oz are a socialistic, child-like benign people whereas the earth-dwelling gnomes that war against Oz resemble surly, greedy dwarves. Game of Thrones includes a dwarf, for the first time, as a deformed human lacking the solidarity of others like him, dealing not only with his individual difference but also dealing with the social prejudice directed toward the disabled and deformed. As Les Grossman states, "Tyrion is another good example of what separates Tolkien and Martin. Tyrion isn't a hearty, ax-wielding, gold-mining member of a noble dwarven race. He's not Gimli. Tyrion is an actual dwarf, achondroplastic and stubby-limbed."

Tyrion is ostracized, derided, and suffers alienation of affection from birth. Cersei erroneously blames him for the death of their mother, and Tywin makes it quite clear that he sees his deformed son as unfit to oversee anything but the cisterns and drains of Casterly Rock; though with Jamie missing and the unpredictable Joffrey on the throne, he recognizes Tyrion's intellect and cleverness and makes him acting Hand. At that time, Tyrion is still loyal to his family, working to keep them in power and desiring his father's approval. Only Jamie shows any affection for this brother, and while he may venture to suggest Cersei treats her little brother unfairly, he soon backs down. He rarely takes Tyrion's side against his family or supports him publically; however, he is the one to clandestinely save Tyrion from the deathly machinations of their family. The ridiculing of Tyrion is accepted and often encouraged by those within his family as well as all members of society. Tyrion accepts who he is and understands how others see him. Prejudice against "the Imp," as he is called, contributes to him being labelled villain, scapegoated, and erroneously accused of crippling Bran and murdering Joffrey. It also results in his leadership in defending King's Landing against Stannis Baratheon never being publically acknowledged, as well as his removal as Hand. He will never reach the physical stature of a "normal" man, but will always know exactly who he is, never seeking pity from others but occasionally indulging in self-pity. He capitalizes on his strengths - his intellect and insight into others: he recognizes that the prejudice of others that often results in their underestimating him and that allows him to disarm his enemies by unexpected means.

While other deformed and disabled characters are often crafted to play upon our sympathy, not so with Tyrion who relishes being amoral and hedonistic. He admits at his trial in the Eyrie, that "my crimes and sins are beyond counting. I have lied and cheated, gambled and whored, I am not particularly good at violence but at convincing other to do violence for me" (season 1, episode 6). 5 Lambert argues this is why he is nicknamed "the Imp": an imp is a

devious, chimerical figure, not entirely reliable, mischievous, capable of courage but preferring to use his intelligence when given a choice ... [Tyrion is] convinced that he can talk himself out of the most appalling danger and, almost always, he does (29).

Tyrion bears no resemblance to the hardworking miners or the childlike little people of earlier fantasy. The fortune-seeking surliness of Tolkien's and Lewis' dwarves is transformed into the brash hedonism of an individual in Tyrion. While dwarves in Tolkien and Lewis often exhibit poor judgment, Tyrion is an intellectual. His intelligence is not a disability superpower awarded to compensate for a deficit. Tyrion has worked at it; he is a man who continuously reads: "a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone to keep its edge" he says (season 1, episode 2), and he must keep his edge to survive in this world. Pity is one emotion Tyrion does not invite.

Tyrion is also one of the most self-aware and self-possessed characters in Game of Thrones, defying stereotypes. Lambert says, "this self-awareness is determined by, and measured in terms of, the hurt that can be caused him and its injustice" (30). He is a multiple-faceted character, self-indulgent and without remorse, yet capable of compassion, courage under fire, and a sense of morality that ends up putting him at cross purposes with other family members. On giving plans for a saddle to the now crippled Bran, he says, "I have a tender spot in my heart for crippled, bastards, and other broken things" (season 1, episode 4). His treatment of Sansa when she is handed to him to wive and his constancy and love of Shae until she is turned by Cersei and Tywin, as well as his despair at her betrayal, are further proof of his capacity for love and his sense of justice. In striking Joffrey twice, once at Winterfell for not wanting to show proper respect and sympathy to the Starks after Bran's accident, and later when Joffrey demonstrates his ineptitude at ruling by wanting to kill everyone after being struck with a cow pie by a riotous group of starving townsfolk, Tyrion demonstrates brash chutzpah. When Tyrion then calls Joffrey out for his ineptitude in understanding both the men beneath him and the strength of his enemies, and cowardly Joffrey flees to the Red Keep leaving Tyrion to command the Battle of Blackwater, Tyrion proves that he can summon courage when necessary.

While most of society fails to recognize Tyrion's potential, Varys recognizes in him his "father's instincts for politics, and [the] compassion" that his father lacks (season 5, episode 1). He perhaps best sums up Tyrion's position, as the two travel together on the road to Meereen:

Varys: You were quite good, you know, at ruling, during your brief tenure as Hand.
Tyrion: I didn't rule. I was a servant ...
Varys: People follow leaders, and they will never follow us. They find us repulsive. ( GofT, season 5, episode 2)

Tyrion's and Varys' friendship is one of two equal intellectuals, yet it is also one of two whose power is limited by society due to their deformities. Both recognize the limitations placed on them by society; however, while they can never openly rule, they can serve and greatly impact, influence, and steer those who do. Tyrion has a keen sense of the ways the world and the men who try to lay claim to it, as well as an understanding of his own position and potential in it.

Varys also offers keen insight into the worlds of those othered by physical difference. Spatial, physical, social and/or psychological confinement, say Hayes and Black (2003), is often part of the discourse of pity in Hollywood, and while physically enclosed within a pretty box, the coach, Varys recognizes its social and psychological symbolism: "we surround ourselves with large comfortable boxes to keep them away. And yet no matter what we do people like you and me will never be comfortable inside the box" (season 5, episode 2). Unfiltered by the normate's or ableist's perspective, as one who is himself othered, Varys eloquently states the quandary of the other: a need to protect oneself out of fear, while still desiring to be accepted by a society that ostracizes those who are different. Tyrion steps beyond the security of the box far more often than Varys.

Tyrion's intelligence is often his salvation; however, it is a double-edged sword that also imperils him. Both the matters he speaks up on and the ideas he more closely guards put Tyrion at odds with Cersei, Joffrey, and his father. His survival often hinges on others' aid or intervention: Bronn champions and protects him; Jamie releases him from his cell; Varys arranges his passage and then accompanies him on his escape from King's Landing; and Jorah starts out as his captor and later becomes his ally. While he is derided by the able-bodied, normate society, as is typical for portrayed disabled and deformed individuals, he rises above that, and his relationships are more complex and richer than those commonly depicted for physically different and disabled characters in visual media, as well as for most of the major characters in Game of Thrones. Bronn is a mercenary hired by Tyrion to protect him. Bronn respects his intellect, enjoys sharing in his more hedonistic pursuits and evolves into more than the hired help; he becomes a trusted friend. However, when Cersei offers Bronn a valuable marriage, and being Tyrion's friend is no longer in Bronn's best interest, he says: "I like you... I just like myself more" (season 4, episode 7). Given the marriage and title Cersei has offered, Bronn cannot refuse. He does not betray, abuse, or exploit Tyrion; in the end, he simply acts in his own self-interest, and he is apologetic. Tyrion, while disappointed, understands, recognizes that they are kindred spirits who must be opportunistic to survive. Tyrion's relationship with Jorah also evolves. They begin as enemies. Jorah kidnaps him to get back into Daenerys' good graces, but they gradually learn to respect one another and work together to pursue their shared goal of putting a worthy leader, Daenerys, on the throne. The complexity of these evolving relationships belies the more stereotypical ones we commonly see in fantasy and contemporary drama afforded disabled individuals (Bogdan, Biklen, Shapiro, and Spelkoman 32-34). Tyrion is not a static, one-dimensional character. This in indeed part of the reason why Games of Thrones, rather than a contemporary drama, won a Media Access Award in 2013 for "promoting awareness of the disability experience, accessibility for people with disabilities, and the accurate depiction of characters with disabilities."

What is arguably Tyrion's most contemptuous act by this feudal world's standards also liberates him and dramatically impacts the society that ostracizes him. After Tywin's death, King's Landing faces the insurrection of its citizens under the leadership of the Sparrow. In committing patricide, Tyrion also commits treason; he effectively becomes a king slayer, since it is Tywin who is directing events during Joffrey's reign and who effectively rules when Tommen takes the throne. The viewing audience applauds Tyrion for removing a vicious tyrant. While Tyrion has always felt psychological isolated and othered by his family and society, now he must also accept physical exile if he is to survive. Ironically, that physical exile liberates him from the suffocating shackles of his family and will enable him to choose what role he will play in future events. The label "villain" is again made ambiguous; Tyrion is not simply a villain, any more than Elphaba or Maleficent. However, Tyrion does not simply represent the rehabilitation of the villain stereotype. Tyrion's story arc is far more complex. He remains a self-indulgent hedonist; he seeks power, but recognizes that his options are limited by his deformity and that his power will come primarily by working behind the scenes, counseling the most powerful. He becomes more protagonist than villain as the epic unfolds. More importantly, he defies the labels and stock stereotypes of villain, dwarf, and disabled to become a complex character, self-accepting and self-aware, flawed but with the capacity for growth, dealing with the prejudices of those around him, and who defies the audience to respond to him with pity or disdain.

Conclusion

Mitchell has argued that disability has a "disruptive potentiality [that allows for] analytical insight" (49); the disabled are "dynamic entities that resist or refuse the cultural scripts assigned to them" (49) and who are integral to "challenging normative prescriptive ideals ... and assessing values and norms imposed upon the body" (51). In the visual fantasies discussed here, disability has been used to undermine archetype and stereotype, and to unmask social constructs of disability. In these visual enactments, the re-visioning of older stories and archetypes engages the audience in the gaze or stare upon both the disabled villain and the society which defines and limits that individual, revealing often unacknowledged social prejudices. While villains' backstories rupture the equation of evil with deformity, pity often replaces disdain. If we delve beneath the entertaining plots that demonstrate the virtues of heroes and vices of villains, and beyond the evocation of normate pity for the disabled, as we gaze upon the communities within the visual fantasies, we, as audience, are cajoled into confronting society's culpability in labelling, ostracizing, and delimiting the roles and options of disabled people whom we choose to "other."

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Re-visioning Negative Archetypes of Disability and Deformity in Fantasy: Wicked, Maleficent, and Game of Thrones | Donnelly | Disability Studies Quarterly

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Our expectations of what evil looks like in fantasy are predicated on archetypes created by long-established cultural myths. In America, the wicked witch, while based on the ugly old hag of European fairy tales, is reaffirmed through the Wizard of Oz (1939).

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I Belong Where the People Are: Disability and The Shape of Water

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I Belong Where the People Are: Disability and The Shape of Water

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The Shape of Water made me feel less human.

On the surface, there are many things to like about The Shape of Water. The main characters, the ones in the right, they are all outsiders. They are people like me. With the exception of Children of a Lesser God, it is the first time I have ever seen a disabled woman as an object of desire. It is the first time I have seen someone swear in sign in a mainstream film. It is one of the only films out there to address some of my feelings about my body or depict them on screen. Let's be honest, Children of a Lesser God was made in 1986. That's 31 years of film history. That's my entire life.
Spoilers follow.
In one sequence: "What is she saying?" the angry (real) monster asks on the screen.

"She's saying thank you," the woman behind our hero translates, hurriedly and incorrectly, as Elisa patiently, slowly, and effectively signs "fuck you" to a man trying to kill someone she loves. It fills me with joy.

In another scene, a disabled woman is embraced tenderly by her lover.

In a third, an abled man threatens the disabled heroine, spitting words out that I have heard in other variations throughout my lifetime. It rings true.

But below the still waters of agreement, there is the discord of being othered.

The first time in years that I have seen a disabled woman sexually desired, and indeed, sexually active, and loved in a film is by a monster. Monsterhood and disability are inextricably linked in our genre. Characters like Snoke are barely human, their faces marred by scars which signal that they are evil. Disability and disfigurement are tied together as one. Elisa's scars on her neck have been read as gills by some, a hint that her disability is in fact, monsterhood all on its own.

Like The Shape of Water 's Elisa, I have never known a life without a disability. Both of us live in worlds where we have to have things translated for us. Elisa needs facilitated communication with those who cannot speak her form of sign language. (Elisa does not use ASL, though she does use some standard ASL fingerspelling in the film.). For me, I need a hearing aid, likely someday I will need to sign, and I need people to read things like subtitles for me if they are too small (which was fortunately not one of the problems I had with this film).

At its core, The Shape of Water asks us to consider what a freak is. Is a monster a god? Is a disabled woman a freak? An outsider? Can she be loved or understood by her own kind, or are the monsters the only ones who can truly understand her?

Unfortunately, the answer to this movie was that no, she cannot be loved by her own kind, and yes, she is an outsider. A monster. A freak. She belongs under the water with her beloved Aquatic Monster. We don't know this for certain, that she lives-in fact all signs point to the idea that she is dying or dead at the movie's end. But if I accept that she is dead, then the film ends as all disabled films do: in ultimate, inevitable tragedy. So I choose to imagine the slightly less angering of two evils.

There is a moment in the film which caused me to cry. It caused me to cry because I was conflicted in my heart and soul about the moment. Elisa fights with her best friend Giles about whether or not to rescue the monster from the clutches of the government, before they vivisect him. Elisa forces Giles to repeat what she is saying, making him listen to the words that so he understands them. It is during this speech that she talks about what it is like to be disabled. For people to gaze upon her, to see her as different. This sequence both felt true, and hurt like hell to see.

That's when she says the words. That's when she forces Giles to say out loud (without subtitles for the sign): "He doesn't know that I am less than whole."

Society says that disability makes us lesser, makes us uneven humans. The worst of humanity looks at me with my one clouded eye, and my one hearing ear. It looks at me and it says I am half of what I could be. This isn't a projection. I don't feel less than whole. I have had people tell me that I am lesser than them. That they couldn't imagine what it would be like to inhabit my body, that they would rather die than experience what it is like to live in a disabled body.

The conflict for me is here, that on the one hand I have always known in my soul that abled people see me as half of them, that they see me as less than whole. Which is why I hate that in media such as this, we can only be desired by those who don't know any better.

So when Elisa ultimately dies, at the end of the film, I'm utterly unsurprised. Of course they kill her, only to have her resurrected under the water, to join the only man who has ever desired her. Of course society would rather imagine a disabled woman living under water with the only creature that has ever loved her, rather than imagining her above the waves, being loved and desired by the other humans in her life.

I wish that I could just say, "Well, it's fantasy," and move on. But I can't. Not when I've literally never seen a movie in which a disabled woman is desired by a non-disabled partner. Not when I know that my body is seen as less than desirable. Not when I know that subconsciously this film, it means she deserves a freak like her, and not a human like her.

If desired disabled heroines were common, then I wouldn't have a problem with them being partnered with Hot Monster Boys. But we don't live in that world yet. Able bodied heroes can have all the Hot Monster Boys they want-to go along with all their able bodied human lovers. Until disabled heroines and their bodies are desired by the same frequency of able bodied to monster lovers, I'm not going to be comfortable with Only Monster Lovers For Disabled Women.

Science fiction, fantasy, and horror have an obligation to do better. As writers, as consumers, as creators, we have to push back and ask for better representation. We have to make better stories, and disconnect from societal bias. If we can imagine a world where a literal fish monster can be loved by a human being, we can imagine a world where a disabled woman can be loved by a fellow human being.

There's another problem with this film that needs to be talked about, and it's important. While the character of Elisa is disabled, the actress Sally Hawkins is not. Disabled actors are constantly passed over, disabled characters instead being presented as "challenging" roles for abled people to play. It would have been a much more powerful film had the actress been a disabled woman, especially someone whose sign was fluent and natural, a sign language that she relied upon every day to communicate, and not just for a single role.

The casting of Hawkins allows for moments like the one towards the end of the film, where-entirely out of character from the rest of the movie-we are treated to a song and dance routine in a dream sequence, as Elisa sings "You'll Never Know How Much I Love You" in a dance routine beside her beloved Aquatic Monster. This sequence reassures the audience that they are not watching a disabled woman, but an able bodied one. Hollywood must stop undercutting the performances of disabled characters by showing us their non-disabled dreams. This only happens with physically disabled characters. It is only ever about making sure abled audiences are comfortable. I am tired of abled audiences being comfortable at the expense of my experience.

I don't dream of seeing out of two eyes, or hearing without a hearing aid. I don't crave many things which are out of my grasp (though a car would be lovely), and I certainly can share my love with someone without having to subvert my disability in order to express it.

Undercutting her disability broke the flow of sign language, the believability of disability, and indeed, the power of her words through sign.

I wanted so badly for this movie to disrupt the ableist, freakshow narrative which I have lived with for my entire life. It's not a theoretical narrative, either.

Over the holidays, I attended a party where a guest told me that disabled people were cast as evil characters because evolutionary psychology says that asymmetrical people aren't attractive. He said this, while looking into my asymmetrical eyes. He said this without apology. He said this because he believed it, with my husband not two seats away from me staring daggers at him. The thing is, this isn't the first time this has happened to me. It probably won't be the last. There's nobody fighting back, except the disabled people out there who want to be loved.

I wanted to feel included in the human world. Instead, the film reinforced the narrative that I belong below the surface, to be put on display when it suits the narrative.

Elsa Sjunneson-Henry is a gimlet made from feminism and snark. She is a deafblind speculative fiction writer, editor and disability activist. She's the Managing Editor of Fireside Magazine and the Non-Fiction Guest Editor in Chief of Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction. She writes from a dragon lair in New Jersey. You can find her @snarkbat on Twitter.

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I Belong Where the People Are: Disability and The Shape of Water

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The Shape of Water made me feel less human. On the surface, there are many things to like about The Shape of Water. The main characters, the ones in the right, they are all outsiders. They are people like me.

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Jeanne-Marie LePrince de Beaumont

There was once a very rich merchant, who had six children, three sons, and three daughters; being a man of sense, he spared no cost for their education, but gave them all kinds of masters. His daughters were extremely handsome, especially the youngest. When she was little everybody admired her, and called her "The little Beauty;" so that, as she grew up, she still went by the name of Beauty, which made her sisters very jealous.

The youngest, as she was handsomer, was also better than her sisters. The two eldest had a great deal of pride, because they were rich. They gave themselves ridiculous airs, and would not visit other merchants' daughters, nor keep company with any but persons of quality. They went out every day to parties of pleasure, balls, plays, concerts, and so forth, and they laughed at their youngest sister, because she spent the greatest part of her time in reading good books.

As it was known that they were great fortunes, several eminent merchants made their addresses to them; but the two eldest said, they would never marry, unless they could meet with a duke, or an earl at least. Beauty very civilly thanked them that courted her, and told them she was too young yet to marry, but chose to stay with her father a few years longer.

All at once the merchant lost his whole fortune, excepting a small country house at a great distance from town, and told his children with tears in his eyes, they must go there and work for their living. The two eldest answered, that they would not leave the town, for they had several lovers, who they were sure would be glad to have them, though they had no fortune; but the good ladies were mistaken, for their lovers slighted and forsook them in their poverty. As they were not beloved on account of their pride, everybody said; they do not deserve to be pitied, we are very glad to see their pride humbled, let them go and give themselves quality airs in milking the cows and minding their dairy. But, added they, we are extremely concerned for Beauty, she was such a charming, sweet-tempered creature, spoke so kindly to poor people, and was of such an affable, obliging behavior. Nay, several gentlemen would have married her, though they knew she had not a penny; but she told them she could not think of leaving her poor father in his misfortunes, but was determined to go along with him into the country to comfort and attend him. Poor Beauty at first was sadly grieved at the loss of her fortune; "but," said she to herself, "were I to cry ever so much, that would not make things better, I must try to make myself happy without a fortune."

When they came to their country house, the merchant and his three sons applied themselves to husbandry and tillage; and Beauty rose at four in the morning, and made haste to have the house clean, and dinner ready for the family. In the beginning she found it very difficult, for she had not been used to work as a servant, but in less than two months she grew stronger and healthier than ever. After she had done her work, she read, played on the harpsichord, or else sung whilst she spun.

On the contrary, her two sisters did not know how to spend their time; they got up at ten, and did nothing but saunter about the whole day, lamenting the loss of their fine clothes and acquaintance. "Do but see our youngest sister," said they, one to the other, "what a poor, stupid, mean-spirited creature she is, to be contented with such an unhappy dismal situation."

The good merchant was of quite a different opinion; he knew very well that Beauty outshone her sisters, in her person as well as her mind, and admired her humility and industry, but above all her humility and patience; for her sisters not only left her all the work of the house to do, but insulted her every moment.

The family had lived about a year in this retirement, when the merchant received a letter with an account that a vessel, on board of which he had effects, was safely arrived. This news had liked to have turned the heads of the two eldest daughters, who immediately flattered themselves with the hopes of returning to town, for they were quite weary of a country life; and when they saw their father ready to set out, they begged of him to buy them new gowns, headdresses, ribbons, and all manner of trifles; but Beauty asked for nothing for she thought to herself, that all the money her father was going to receive, would scarce be sufficient to purchase everything her sisters wanted.

"What will you have, Beauty?" said her father.

"Since you have the goodness to think of me," answered she, "be so kind to bring me a rose, for as none grows hereabouts, they are a kind of rarity." Not that Beauty cared for a rose, but she asked for something, lest she should seem by her example to condemn her sisters' conduct, who would have said she did it only to look particular.

The good man went on his journey, but when he came there, they went to law with him about the merchandise, and after a great deal of trouble and pains to no purpose, he came back as poor as before.

He was within thirty miles of his own house, thinking on the pleasure he should have in seeing his children again, when going through a large forest he lost himself. It rained and snowed terribly; besides, the wind was so high, that it threw him twice off his horse, and night coming on, he began to apprehend being either starved to death with cold and hunger, or else devoured by the wolves, whom he heard howling all round him, when, on a sudden, looking through a long walk of trees, he saw a light at some distance, and going on a little farther perceived it came from a palace illuminated from top to bottom. The merchant returned God thanks for this happy discovery, and hastened to the place, but was greatly surprised at not meeting with any one in the outer courts. His horse followed him, and seeing a large stable open, went in, and finding both hay and oats, the poor beast, who was almost famished, fell to eating very heartily; the merchant tied him up to the manger, and walking towards the house, where he saw no one, but entering into a large hall, he found a good fire, and a table plentifully set out with but one cover laid. As he was wet quite through with the rain and snow, he drew near the fire to dry himself. "I hope," said he, "the master of the house, or his servants will excuse the liberty I take; I suppose it will not be long before some of them appear."

He waited a considerable time, until it struck eleven, and still nobody came. At last he was so hungry that he could stay no longer, but took a chicken, and ate it in two mouthfuls, trembling all the while. After this he drank a few glasses of wine, and growing more courageous he went out of the hall, and crossed through several grand apartments with magnificent furniture, until he came into a chamber, which had an exceeding good bed in it, and as he was very much fatigued, and it was past midnight, he concluded it was best to shut the door, and go to bed.

It was ten the next morning before the merchant waked, and as he was going to rise he was astonished to see a good suit of clothes in the room of his own, which were quite spoiled; certainly, said he, this palace belongs to some kind fairy, who has seen and pitied my distress. He looked through a window, but instead of snow saw the most delightful arbors, interwoven with the beautifullest flowers that were ever beheld. He then returned to the great hall, where he had supped the night before, and found some chocolate ready made on a little table. "Thank you, good Madam Fairy," said he aloud, "for being so careful, as to provide me a breakfast; I am extremely obliged to you for all your favors."

The good man drank his chocolate, and then went to look for his horse, but passing through an arbor of roses he remembered Beauty's request to him, and gathered a branch on which were several; immediately he heard a great noise, and saw such a frightful Beast coming towards him, that he was ready to faint away.

"You are very ungrateful," said the Beast to him, in a terrible voice; "I have saved your life by receiving you into my castle, and, in return, you steal my roses, which I value beyond any thing in the universe, but you shall die for it; I give you but a quarter of an hour to prepare yourself, and say your prayers."

The merchant fell on his knees, and lifted up both his hands, "My lord," said he, "I beseech you to forgive me, indeed I had no intention to offend in gathering a rose for one of my daughters, who desired me to bring her one."

"My name is not My Lord," replied the monster, "but Beast; I don't love compliments, not I. I like people to speak as they think; and so do not imagine, I am to be moved by any of your flattering speeches. But you say you have got daughters. I will forgive you, on condition that one of them come willingly, and suffer for you. Let me have no words, but go about your business, and swear that if your daughter refuse to die in your stead, you will return within three months."

The merchant had no mind to sacrifice his daughters to the ugly monster, but he thought, in obtaining this respite, he should have the satisfaction of seeing them once more, so he promised, upon oath, he would return, and the Beast told him he might set out when he pleased, "but," added he, "you shall not depart empty handed; go back to the room where you lay, and you will see a great empty chest; fill it with whatever you like best, and I will send it to your home," and at the same time Beast withdrew.

"Well," said the good man to himself, "if I must die, I shall have the comfort, at least, of leaving something to my poor children." He returned to the bedchamber, and finding a great quantity of broad pieces of gold, he filled the great chest the Beast had mentioned, locked it, and afterwards took his horse out of the stable, leaving the palace with as much grief as he had entered it with joy. The horse, of his own accord, took one of the roads of the forest, and in a few hours the good man was at home.

His children came round him, but instead of receiving their embraces with pleasure, he looked on them, and holding up the branch he had in his hands, he burst into tears. "Here, Beauty," said he, "take these roses, but little do you think how dear they are like to cost your unhappy father," and then related his fatal adventure. Immediately the two eldest set up lamentable outcries, and said all manner of ill-natured things to Beauty, who did not cry at all.

"Do but see the pride of that little wretch," said they; "she would not ask for fine clothes, as we did; but no truly, Miss wanted to distinguish herself, so now she will be the death of our poor father, and yet she does not so much as shed a tear."

"Why should I," answered Beauty, "it would be very needless, for my father shall not suffer upon my account, since the monster will accept of one of his daughters, I will deliver myself up to all his fury, and I am very happy in thinking that my death will save my father's life, and be a proof of my tender love for him."

"No, sister," said her three brothers, "that shall not be, we will go find the monster, and either kill him, or perish in the attempt."

"Do not imagine any such thing, my sons," said the merchant, "Beast's power is so great, that I have no hopes of your overcoming him. I am charmed with Beauty's kind and generous offer, but I cannot yield to it. I am old, and have not long to live, so can only loose a few years, which I regret for your sakes alone, my dear children."

"Indeed father," said Beauty, "you shall not go to the palace without me, you cannot hinder me from following you." It was to no purpose all they could say. Beauty still insisted on setting out for the fine palace, and her sisters were delighted at it, for her virtue and amiable qualities made them envious and jealous.

The merchant was so afflicted at the thoughts of losing his daughter, that he had quite forgot the chest full of gold, but at night when he retired to rest, no sooner had he shut his chamber door, than, to his great astonishment, he found it by his bedside; he was determined, however, not to tell his children, that he was grown rich, because they would have wanted to return to town, and he was resolved not to leave the country; but he trusted Beauty with the secret, who informed him, that two gentlemen came in his absence, and courted her sisters; she begged her father to consent to their marriage, and give them fortunes, for she was so good, that she loved them and forgave heartily all their ill usage. These wicked creatures rubbed their eyes with an onion to force some tears when they parted with their sister, but her brothers were really concerned. Beauty was the only one who did not shed tears at parting, because she would not increase their uneasiness.

The horse took the direct road to the palace, and towards evening they perceived it illuminated as at first. The horse went of himself into the stable, and the good man and his daughter came into the great hall, where they found a table splendidly served up, and two covers. The merchant had no heart to eat, but Beauty, endeavoring to appear cheerful, sat down to table, and helped him. "Afterwards," thought she to herself, "Beast surely has a mind to fatten me before he eats me, since he provides such plentiful entertainment." When they had supped they heard a great noise, and the merchant, all in tears, bid his poor child, farewell, for he thought Beast was coming. Beauty was sadly terrified at his horrid form, but she took courage as well as she could, and the monster having asked her if she came willingly; "ye -- e -- es," said she, trembling.

The beast responded, "You are very good, and I am greatly obliged to you; honest man, go your ways tomorrow morning, but never think of coming here again."

"Farewell Beauty, farewell Beast," answered he, and immediately the monster withdrew. "Oh, daughter," said the merchant, embracing Beauty, "I am almost frightened to death, believe me, you had better go back, and let me stay here."

"No, father," said Beauty, in a resolute tone, "you shall set out tomorrow morning, and leave me to the care and protection of providence." They went to bed, and thought they should not close their eyes all night; but scarce were they laid down, than they fell fast asleep, and Beauty dreamed, a fine lady came, and said to her, "I am content, Beauty, with your good will, this good action of yours in giving up your own life to save your father's shall not go unrewarded." Beauty waked, and told her father her dream, and though it helped to comfort him a little, yet he could not help crying bitterly, when he took leave of his dear child.

As soon as he was gone, Beauty sat down in the great hall, and fell a crying likewise; but as she was mistress of a great deal of resolution, she recommended herself to God, and resolved not to be uneasy the little time she had to live; for she firmly believed Beast would eat her up that night.

However, she thought she might as well walk about until then, and view this fine castle, which she could not help admiring; it was a delightful pleasant place, and she was extremely surprised at seeing a door, over which was written, "Beauty's Apartment." She opened it hastily, and was quite dazzled with the magnificence that reigned throughout; but what chiefly took up her attention, was a large library, a harpsichord, and several music books. "Well," said she to herself, "I see they will not let my time hang heavy upon my hands for want of amusement." Then she reflected, "Were I but to stay here a day, there would not have been all these preparations." This consideration inspired her with fresh courage; and opening the library she took a book, and read these words, in letters of gold:

Welcome Beauty, banish fear,
You are queen and mistress here.
Speak your wishes, speak your will,
Swift obedience meets them still.

"Alas," said she, with a sigh, "there is nothing I desire so much as to see my poor father, and know what he is doing." She had no sooner said this, when casting her eyes on a great looking glass, to her great amazement, she saw her own home, where her father arrived with a very dejected countenance. Her sisters went to meet him, and notwithstanding their endeavors to appear sorrowful, their joy, felt for having got rid of their sister, was visible in every feature. A moment after, everything disappeared, and Beauty's apprehensions at this proof of Beast's complaisance.

At noon she found dinner ready, and while at table, was entertained with an excellent concert of music, though without seeing anybody. But at night, as she was going to sit down to supper, she heard the noise Beast made, and could not help being sadly terrified. "Beauty," said the monster, "will you give me leave to see you sup?"

"That is as you please," answered Beauty trembling.

"No," replied the Beast, "you alone are mistress here; you need only bid me gone, if my presence is troublesome, and I will immediately withdraw. But, tell me, do not you think me very ugly?"

"That is true," said Beauty, "for I cannot tell a lie, but I believe you are very good natured."

"So I am," said the monster, "but then, besides my ugliness, I have no sense; I know very well, that I am a poor, silly, stupid creature."

"'Tis no sign of folly to think so," replied Beauty, "for never did fool know this, or had so humble a conceit of his own understanding."

"Eat then, Beauty," said the monster, "and endeavor to amuse yourself in your palace, for everything here is yours, and I should be very uneasy, if you were not happy."

"You are very obliging," answered Beauty, "I own I am pleased with your kindness, and when I consider that, your deformity scarce appears."

"Yes, yes," said the Beast, "my heart is good, but still I am a monster."

"Among mankind," says Beauty, "there are many that deserve that name more than you, and I prefer you, just as you are, to those, who, under a human form, hide a treacherous, corrupt, and ungrateful heart."

"If I had sense enough," replied the Beast, "I would make a fine compliment to thank you, but I am so dull, that I can only say, I am greatly obliged to you."

Beauty ate a hearty supper, and had almost conquered her dread of the monster; but she had like to have fainted away, when he said to her, "Beauty, will you be my wife?"

She was some time before she dared answer, for she was afraid of making him angry, if she refused. At last, however, she said trembling, "no Beast." Immediately the poor monster went to sigh, and hissed so frightfully, that the whole palace echoed. But Beauty soon recovered her fright, for Beast having said, in a mournful voice, "then farewell, Beauty," left the room; and only turned back, now and then, to look at her as he went out.

When Beauty was alone, she felt a great deal of compassion for poor Beast. "Alas," said she, "'tis thousand pities, anything so good natured should be so ugly."

Beauty spent three months very contentedly in the palace. Every evening Beast paid her a visit, and talked to her, during supper, very rationally, with plain good common sense, but never with what the world calls wit; and Beauty daily discovered some valuable qualifications in the monster, and seeing him often had so accustomed her to his deformity, that, far from dreading the time of his visit, she would often look on her watch to see when it would be nine, for the Beast never missed coming at that hour. There was but one thing that gave Beauty any concern, which was, that every night, before she went to bed, the monster always asked her, if she would be his wife. One day she said to him, "Beast, you make me very uneasy, I wish I could consent to marry you, but I am too sincere to make you believe that will ever happen; I shall always esteem you as a friend, endeavor to be satisfied with this."

"I must," said the Beast, "for, alas! I know too well my own misfortune, but then I love you with the tenderest affection. However, I ought to think myself happy, that you will stay here; promise me never to leave me."

Beauty blushed at these words; she had seen in her glass, that her father had pined himself sick for the loss of her, and she longed to see him again. "I could," answered she, "indeed, promise never to leave you entirely, but I have so great a desire to see my father, that I shall fret to death, if you refuse me that satisfaction."

"I had rather die myself," said the monster, "than give you the least uneasiness. I will send you to your father, you shall remain with him, and poor Beast will die with grief."

"No," said Beauty, weeping, "I love you too well to be the cause of your death. I give you my promise to return in a week. You have shown me that my sisters are married, and my brothers gone to the army; only let me stay a week with my father, as he is alone."

"You shall be there tomorrow morning," said the Beast, "but remember your promise. You need only lay your ring on a table before you go to bed, when you have a mind to come back. Farewell Beauty." Beast sighed, as usual, bidding her good night, and Beauty went to bed very sad at seeing him so afflicted. When she waked the next morning, she found herself at her father's, and having rung a little bell, that was by her bedside, she saw the maid come, who, the moment she saw her, gave a loud shriek, at which the good man ran up stairs, and thought he should have died with joy to see his dear daughter again. He held her fast locked in his arms above a quarter of an hour. As soon as the first transports were over, Beauty began to think of rising, and was afraid she had no clothes to put on; but the maid told her, that she had just found, in the next room, a large trunk full of gowns, covered with gold and diamonds. Beauty thanked good Beast for his kind care, and taking one of the plainest of them, she intended to make a present of the others to her sisters. She scarce had said so when the trunk disappeared. Her father told her, that Beast insisted on her keeping them herself, and immediately both gowns and trunk came back again.

Beauty dressed herself, and in the meantime they sent to her sisters who hastened thither with their husbands. They were both of them very unhappy. The eldest had married a gentleman, extremely handsome indeed, but so fond of his own person, that he was full of nothing but his own dear self, and neglected his wife. The second had married a man of wit, but he only made use of it to plague and torment everybody, and his wife most of all. Beauty's sisters sickened with envy, when they saw her dressed like a princess, and more beautiful than ever, nor could all her obliging affectionate behavior stifle their jealousy, which was ready to burst when she told them how happy she was. They went down into the garden to vent it in tears; and said one to the other, in what way is this little creature better than us, that she should be so much happier? "Sister," said the oldest, "a thought just strikes my mind; let us endeavor to detain her above a week, and perhaps the silly monster will be so enraged at her for breaking her word, that he will devour her."

"Right, sister," answered the other, "therefore we must show her as much kindness as possible." After they had taken this resolution, they went up, and behaved so affectionately to their sister, that poor Beauty wept for joy. When the week was expired, they cried and tore their hair, and seemed so sorry to part with her, that she promised to stay a week longer.

In the meantime, Beauty could not help reflecting on herself, for the uneasiness she was likely to cause poor Beast, whom she sincerely loved, and really longed to see again. The tenth night she spent at her father's, she dreamed she was in the palace garden, and that she saw Beast extended on the grass plat, who seemed just expiring, and, in a dying voice, reproached her with her ingratitude. Beauty started out of her sleep, and bursting into tears. "Am I not very wicked," said she, "to act so unkindly to Beast, that has studied so much, to please me in everything? Is it his fault if he is so ugly, and has so little sense? He is kind and good, and that is sufficient. Why did I refuse to marry him? I should be happier with the monster than my sisters are with their husbands; it is neither wit, nor a fine person, in a husband, that makes a woman happy, but virtue, sweetness of temper, and complaisance, and Beast has all these valuable qualifications. It is true, I do not feel the tenderness of affection for him, but I find I have the highest gratitude, esteem, and friendship; I will not make him miserable, were I to be so ungrateful I should never forgive myself." Beauty having said this, rose, put her ring on the table, and then laid down again; scarce was she in bed before she fell asleep, and when she waked the next morning, she was overjoyed to find herself in the Beast's palace.

She put on one of her richest suits to please him, and waited for evening with the utmost impatience, at last the wished-for hour came, the clock struck nine, yet no Beast appeared. Beauty then feared she had been the cause of his death; she ran crying and wringing her hands all about the palace, like one in despair; after having sought for him everywhere, she recollected her dream, and flew to the canal in the garden, where she dreamed she saw him. There she found poor Beast stretched out, quite senseless, and, as she imagined, dead. She threw herself upon him without any dread, and finding his heart beat still, she fetched some water from the canal, and poured it on his head. Beast opened his eyes, and said to Beauty, "You forgot your promise, and I was so afflicted for having lost you, that I resolved to starve myself, but since I have the happiness of seeing you once more, I die satisfied."

"No, dear Beast," said Beauty, "you must not die. Live to be my husband; from this moment I give you my hand, and swear to be none but yours. Alas! I thought I had only a friendship for you, but the grief I now feel convinces me, that I cannot live without you." Beauty scarce had pronounced these words, when she saw the palace sparkle with light; and fireworks, instruments of music, everything seemed to give notice of some great event. But nothing could fix her attention; she turned to her dear Beast, for whom she trembled with fear; but how great was her surprise! Beast was disappeared, and she saw, at her feet, one of the loveliest princes that eye ever beheld; who returned her thanks for having put an end to the charm, under which he had so long resembled a Beast. Though this prince was worthy of all her attention, she could not forbear asking where Beast was.

"You see him at your feet, said the prince. A wicked fairy had condemned me to remain under that shape until a beautiful virgin should consent to marry me. The fairy likewise enjoined me to conceal my understanding. There was only you in the world generous enough to be won by the goodness of my temper, and in offering you my crown I can't discharge the obligations I have to you."

Beauty, agreeably surprised, gave the charming prince her hand to rise; they went together into the castle, and Beauty was overjoyed to find, in the great hall, her father and his whole family, whom the beautiful lady, that appeared to her in her dream, had conveyed thither.

"Beauty," said this lady, "come and receive the reward of your judicious choice; you have preferred virtue before either wit or beauty, and deserve to find a person in whom all these qualifications are united. You are going to be a great queen. I hope the throne will not lessen your virtue, or make you forget yourself. As to you, ladies," said the fairy to Beauty's two sisters, "I know your hearts, and all the malice they contain. Become two statues, but, under this transformation, still retain your reason. You shall stand before your sister's palace gate, and be it your punishment to behold her happiness; and it will not be in your power to return to your former state, until you own your faults, but I am very much afraid that you will always remain statues. Pride, anger, gluttony, and idleness are sometimes conquered, but the conversion of a malicious and envious mind is a kind of miracle."

Immediately the fairy gave a stroke with her wand, and in a moment all that were in the hall were transported into the prince's dominions. His subjects received him with joy. He married Beauty, and lived with her many years, and their happiness -- as it was founded on virtue -- was complete.

Source: The Young Misses Magazine, Containing Dialogues between a Governess and Several Young Ladies of Quality Her Scholars, by Madam Prince de Beaumont, 4th ed., v. 1 (London: C. Nourse, 1783), pp. 45-67. First published in 1756 in France under the titleMagasin des enfans, ou dialogues entre une sage gouvernante et plusieure de ses élèves. The first English translation appeared in 1757.

Spelling and punctuation revised by D. L. Ashliman.

The French title of "Beauty and the Beast" is "La Belle et la Bête."

As suggested by the book's title, the tale "Beauty and the Beast" is a story incorporated into a didactic dialogue and told to several young ladies of quality (ages five through thirteen) by their governess, whose name is Mrs. Affable.

Jeanne-Marie LePrince de Beaumont (1711-1780) moved from her native France to England in about 1745 and from England to Switzerland in 1764. A prolific author of over 70 volumes, she was highly regarded in her day, but is now known only for her version of "Beauty and the Beast."

Although the basic plot of Beaumont's "Beauty and the Beast" comes from a very widespread folktale (Aarne-Thompson type 425C), the immediate source of her material was a collection of tales by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot, Dame de Villeneuve (1695-1755) entitled La Jeune Ameriquaine et les Contes Marins (1740). The title is also given as Contes Marin, ou la Jeune Américaine. The story (which in Villeneuve's version encompasses nearly 200 pages) purports to be a tale told to a young emigrant by her chambermaid aboard a ship to America.

Related links

La Belle et la Bête. The French-language text of Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont.

Le Prince de Beaumont: A French-language site dedicated to "Belle et la Bête et son auteur," including a reproduction of the original French text.

Beauty and the Beast, an article from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

The Internet Movie Database listing for the film La Belle et la bête (1946), directed by Jean Cocteau.

The Internet Movie Database listing for Philip Glass's opera La Belle et la bête, synchronized to be sung as an alternate soundtrack to Jean Cocteau's film.

Beauty and the Beast, additional folktales of type 425C.

Cupid and Psyche, the classic tale of an abandoned wife's search for a lost and enchanted husband, by the Roman writer Lucius Apuleius (born about 124).

The Singing, Springing Lark, a version of "Beauty and the Beast" recorded by the Grimm brothers.

East of the Sun and West of the Moon, an animal bridegroom tale from Norway.

D. L. Ashliman's folktexts , a library of folktales, folklore, fairy tales, and mythology.

Revised November 15, 2011.

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There was once a very rich merchant, who had six children, three sons, and three daughters; being a man of sense, he spared no cost for their education, but gave them all kinds of masters. His daughters were extremely handsome, especially the youngest.

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Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm
A king was once hunting in a great forest, and he chased his prey so eagerly that none of his men could follow him. As evening approached he stopped and looked around, and saw that he was lost. He looked for a way out of the woods, but he could not find one. Then he saw an old woman with a bobbing head who approached him. She was a witch.
"My dear woman," he said to her, "can you show me the way through the woods?"

"Oh, yes, your majesty," she answered, "I can indeed. However, there is one condition, and if you do not fulfill it, you will never get out of these woods, and will die here of hunger."

"What sort of condition is it?" asked the king.

"I have a daughter," said the old woman, "who is as beautiful as anyone you could find in all the world, and who well deserves to become your wife. If you will make her your queen, I will show you the way out of the woods."

The king was so frightened that he consented, and the old woman led him to her cottage, where her daughter was sitting by the fire. She received the king as if she had been expecting him. He saw that she was very beautiful, but in spite of this he did not like her, and he could not look at her without secretly shuddering.

After he had lifted the girl onto his horse, the old woman showed him the way, and the king arrived again at his royal castle, where the wedding was celebrated.

The king had been married before, and by his first wife he had seven children, six boys and one girl. He loved them more than anything else in the world.

Fearing that the stepmother might not treat them well, even do them harm, he took them to a secluded castle which stood in the middle of a forest. It was so well hidden, and the way was so difficult to find, that he himself would not have found it, if a wise woman had not given him a ball of magic yarn. Whenever he threw it down in front of him, it would unwind itself and show him the way.

However, the king went out to his dear children so often that the queen took notice of his absence. She was curious and wanted to know what he was doing out there all alone in the woods. She gave a large sum of money to his servants, and they revealed the secret to her. They also told her about the ball of yarn which could point out the way all by itself.

She did not rest until she discovered where the king kept the ball of yarn. Then she made some little shirts of white silk. Having learned the art of witchcraft from her mother, she sewed a magic charm into each one of them. Then one day when the king had ridden out hunting, she took the little shirts and went into the woods. The ball of yarn showed her the way.

The children, seeing that someone was approaching from afar, thought that their dear father was coming to them. Full of joy, they ran to meet him. Then she threw one of the shirts over each of them, and when the shirts touched their bodies they were transformed into swans, and they flew away over the woods.

The queen went home very pleased, believing that she had gotten rid of her stepchildren. However, the girl had not run out with her brothers, and the queen knew nothing about her.

The next day the king went to visit his children, but he found no one there but the girl.

"Where are your brothers?" asked the king.

"Oh, dear father," she answered, "they have gone away and left me alone."

Then she told him that from her window she had seen how her brothers had flown away over the woods as swans. She showed him the feathers that they had dropped into the courtyard, and which she had gathered up.

The king mourned, but he did not think that the queen had done this wicked deed. Fearing that the girl would be stolen away from him as well, he wanted to take her away with him, but she was afraid of her stepmother and begged the king to let her stay just this one more night in the castle in the woods.

The poor girl thought, "I can no longer stay here. I will go and look for my brothers."

And when night came she ran away and went straight into the woods. She walked the whole night long without stopping, and the next day as well, until she was too tired to walk any further.

Then she saw a hunter's hut and went inside. She found a room with six little beds, but she did not dare to get into one of them. Instead she crawled under one of them and lay down on the hard ground where she intended to spend the night.

The sun was about to go down when she heard a rushing sound and saw six swans fly in through the window. Landing on the floor, they blew on one another, and blew all their feathers off. Then their swan-skins came off just like shirts. The girl looked at them and recognized her brothers. She was happy and crawled out from beneath the bed. The brothers were no less happy to see their little sister, but their happiness did not last long.

"You cannot stay here," they said to her. "This is a robbers' den. If they come home and find you, they will murder you."

"Can't you protect me?" asked the little sister.

"No," they answered. "We can take off our swan-skins for only a quarter hour each evening. Only during that time do we have our human forms. After that we are again transformed into swans."

Crying, the little sister said, "Can you not be redeemed?"

"Alas, no," they answered. "The conditions are too difficult. You would not be allowed to speak or to laugh for six years, and in that time you would have to sew together six little shirts from asters for us. And if a single word were to come from your mouth, all your work would be lost."

After the brothers had said this, the quarter hour was over, and they flew out the window again as swans.

Nevertheless, the girl firmly resolved to redeem her brothers, even if it should cost her her life. She left the hunter's hut, went to the middle of the woods, seated herself in a tree, and there spent the night. The next morning she went out and gathered asters and began to sew. She could not speak with anyone, and she had no desire to laugh. She sat there, looking only at her work.

After she had already spent a long time there it happened that the king of the land was hunting in these woods. His huntsmen came to the tree where the girl was sitting.

They called to her, saying, "Who are you?" But she did not answer.

"Come down to us," they said. "We will not harm you."

She only shook her head. When they pressed her further with questions, she threw her golden necklace down to them, thinking that this would satisfy them. But they did not stop, so she then threw her belt down to them, and when this did not help, her garters, and then -- one thing at a time -- everything that she had on and could do without, until finally she had nothing left but her shift.

The huntsmen, however, not letting themselves be dissuaded, climbed the tree, lifted the girl down, and took her to the king.

The king asked, "Who are you? What are you doing in that tree?"

But she did not answer. He asked her in every language that he knew, but she remained as speechless as a fish. Because she was so beautiful, the king's heart was touched, and he fell deeply in love with her. He put his cloak around her, lifted her onto his horse in front of himself, and took her to his castle. There he had her dressed in rich garments, and she glistened in her beauty like bright daylight, but no one could get a word from her.

At the table he seated her by his side, and her modest manners and courtesy pleased him so much that he said, "My desire is to marry her, and no one else in the world."

A few days later they were married.

Now the king had a wicked mother who was dissatisfied with this marriage and spoke ill of the young queen. "Who knows," she said, "where the girl who cannot speak comes from? She is not worthy of a king."

A year later, after the queen had brought her first child into the world, the old woman took it away from her while she was asleep, and smeared her mouth with blood. Then she went to the king and accused her of being a cannibal. The king could not believe this, and would not allow anyone to harm her. She, however, sat the whole time sewing on the shirts, and caring for nothing else.

The next time, when she again gave birth to a beautiful boy, the deceitful mother-in-law did the same thing again, but the king could not bring himself to believe her accusations.

He said, "She is too pious and good to do anything like that. If she were not speechless, and if she could defend herself, her innocence would come to light."

But when the old woman stole away a newly born child for the third time, and accused the queen, who did not defend herself with a single word, the king had no choice but to bring her to justice, and she was sentenced to die by fire.

When the day came for the sentence to be carried out, it was also the last day of the six years during which she had not been permitted to speak or to laugh, and she had thus delivered her dear brothers from the magic curse. The six shirts were finished. Only the left sleeve of the last one was missing. When she was led to the stake, she laid the shirts on her arm. Standing there, as the fire was about to be lighted, she looked around, and six swans came flying through the air. Seeing that their redemption was near, her heart leapt with joy.

The swans rushed towards her, swooping down so that she could throw the shirts over them. As soon as the shirts touched them their swan-skins fell off, and her brothers stood before her in their own bodies, vigorous and handsome. However, the youngest was missing his left arm. In its place he had a swan's wing.

They embraced and kissed one another. Then the queen went to the king, who was greatly moved, and she began to speak, saying, "Dearest husband, now I may speak and reveal to you that I am innocent, and falsely accused."

Then she told him of the treachery of the old woman who had taken away their three children and hidden them.

Then to the king's great joy they were brought forth. As a punishment, the wicked mother-in-law was tied to the stake and burned to ashes. But the king and the queen with her six brothers lived many long years in happiness and peace.

Source: Die sechs Schwäne, Kinder- und Hausmärchen (Children's and Household Tales -- Grimms' Fairy Tales), final edition (1857), no. 9.

Translated by D. L. Ashliman. © 2002.

The Grimms' source: Dorothea (Dortchen) Wild (1795-1867).

This tale was included in the first edition of the Kinder- und Hausmärchen (1812). It was substantially rewritten for the second edition (1819). Only small stylistic changes were introduced in succeeding editions.

Aarne-Thompson type 451, The Brothers Who Were Turned into Birds. Tales of this type are found throughout Europe.

Links to related sites

Revised November 16, 2002.

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A king was once hunting in a great forest, and he chased his prey so eagerly that none of his men could follow him. As evening approached he stopped and looked around, and saw that he was lost. He looked for a way out of the woods, but he could not find one.

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Grimm 001: The Frog King or Iron Heinrich

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In olden times, when wishing still did some good, there lived a king whose daughters were all beautiful, but the youngest was so beautiful that the sun itself, who, indeed, has seen so much, marveled every time it shone upon her face.

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Hans Christian Andersen

(1836)

AR out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it: many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his subjects. We must not imagine that there is nothing at the bottom of the sea but bare yellow sand. No, indeed; the most singular flowers and plants grow there; the leaves and stems of which are so pliant, that the slightest agitation of the water causes them to stir as if they had life. Fishes, both large and small, glide between the branches, as birds fly among the trees here upon land. In the deepest spot of all, stands the castle of the Sea King. Its walls are built of coral, and the long, gothic windows are of the clearest amber. The roof is formed of shells, that open and close as the water flows over them. Their appearance is very beautiful, for in each lies a glittering pearl, which would be fit for the diadem of a queen.

The Sea King had been a widower for many years, and his aged mother kept house for him. She was a very wise woman, and exceedingly proud of her high birth; on that account she wore twelve oysters on her tail; while others, also of high rank, were only allowed to wear six. She was, however, deserving of very great praise, especially for her care of the little sea-princesses, her grand-daughters. They were six beautiful children; but the youngest was the prettiest of them all; her skin was as clear and delicate as a rose-leaf, and her eyes as blue as the deepest sea; but, like all the others, she had no feet, and her body ended in a fish's tail. All day long they played in the great halls of the castle, or among the living flowers that grew out of the walls. The large amber windows were open, and the fish swam in, just as the swallows fly into our houses when we open the windows, excepting that the fishes swam up to the princesses, ate out of their hands, and allowed themselves to be stroked. Outside the castle there was a beautiful garden, in which grew bright red and dark blue flowers, and blossoms like flames of fire; the fruit glittered like gold, and the leaves and stems waved to and fro continually. The earth itself was the finest sand, but blue as the flame of burning sulphur. Over everything lay a peculiar blue radiance, as if it were surrounded by the air from above, through which the blue sky shone, instead of the dark depths of the sea. In calm weather the sun could be seen, looking like a purple flower, with the light streaming from the calyx. Each of the young princesses had a little plot of ground in the garden, where she might dig and plant as she pleased. One arranged her flower-bed into the form of a whale; another thought it better to make hers like the figure of a little mermaid; but that of the youngest was round like the sun, and contained flowers as red as his rays at sunset. She was a strange child, quiet and thoughtful; and while her sisters would be delighted with the wonderful things which they obtained from the wrecks of vessels, she cared for nothing but her pretty red flowers, like the sun, excepting a beautiful marble statue. It was the representation of a handsome boy, carved out of pure white stone, which had fallen to the bottom of the sea from a wreck. She planted by the statue a rose-colored weeping willow. It grew splendidly, and very soon hung its fresh branches over the statue, almost down to the blue sands. The shadow had a violet tint, and waved to and fro like the branches; it seemed as if the crown of the tree and the root were at play, and trying to kiss each other. Nothing gave her so much pleasure as to hear about the world above the sea. She made her old grandmother tell her all she knew of the ships and of the towns, the people and the animals. To her it seemed most wonderful and beautiful to hear that the flowers of the land should have fragrance, and not those below the sea; that the trees of the forest should be green; and that the fishes among the trees could sing so sweetly, that it was quite a pleasure to hear them. Her grandmother called the little birds fishes, or she would not have understood her; for she had never seen birds.

"When you have reached your fifteenth year," said the grand-mother, "you will have permission to rise up out of the sea, to sit on the rocks in the moonlight, while the great ships are sailing by; and then you will see both forests and towns."

In the following year, one of the sisters would be fifteen: but as each was a year younger than the other, the youngest would have to wait five years before her turn came to rise up from the bottom of the ocean, and see the earth as we do. However, each promised to tell the others what she saw on her first visit, and what she thought the most beautiful; for their grandmother could not tell them enough; there were so many things on which they wanted information. None of them longed so much for her turn to come as the youngest, she who had the longest time to wait, and who was so quiet and thoughtful. Many nights she stood by the open window, looking up through the dark blue water, and watching the fish as they splashed about with their fins and tails. She could see the moon and stars shining faintly; but through the water they looked larger than they do to our eyes. When something like a black cloud passed between her and them, she knew that it was either a whale swimming over her head, or a ship full of human beings, who never imagined that a pretty little mermaid was standing beneath them, holding out her white hands towards the keel of their ship.

As soon as the eldest was fifteen, she was allowed to rise to the surface of the ocean. When she came back, she had hundreds of things to talk about; but the most beautiful, she said, was to lie in the moonlight, on a sandbank, in the quiet sea, near the coast, and to gaze on a large town nearby, where the lights were twinkling like hundreds of stars; to listen to the sounds of the music, the noise of carriages, and the voices of human beings, and then to hear the merry bells peal out from the church steeples; and because she could not go near to all those wonderful things, she longed for them more than ever. Oh, did not the youngest sister listen eagerly to all these descriptions? and afterwards, when she stood at the open window looking up through the dark blue water, she thought of the great city, with all its bustle and noise, and even fancied she could hear the sound of the church bells, down in the depths of the sea.

In another year the second sister received permission to rise to the surface of the water, and to swim about where she pleased. She rose just as the sun was setting, and this, she said, was the most beautiful sight of all. The whole sky looked like gold, while violet and rose-colored clouds, which she could not describe, floated over her; and, still more rapidly than the clouds, flew a large flock of wild swans towards the setting sun, looking like a long white veil across the sea. She also swam towards the sun; but it sunk into the waves, and the rosy tints faded from the clouds and from the sea.

The third sister's turn followed; she was the boldest of them all, and she swam up a broad river that emptied itself into the sea. On the banks she saw green hills covered with beautiful vines; palaces and castles peeped out from amid the proud trees of the forest; she heard the birds singing, and the rays of the sun were so powerful that she was obliged often to dive down under the water to cool her burning face. In a narrow creek she found a whole troop of little human children, quite naked, and sporting about in the water; she wanted to play with them, but they fled in a great fright; and then a little black animal came to the water; it was a dog, but she did not know that, for she had never before seen one. This animal barked at her so terribly that she became frightened, and rushed back to the open sea. But she said she should never forget the beautiful forest, the green hills, and the pretty little children who could swim in the water, although they had not fish's tails.

The fourth sister was more timid; she remained in the midst of the sea, but she said it was quite as beautiful there as nearer the land. She could see for so many miles around her, and the sky above looked like a bell of glass. She had seen the ships, but at such a great distance that they looked like sea-gulls. The dolphins sported in the waves, and the great whales spouted water from their nostrils till it seemed as if a hundred fountains were playing in every direction.

The fifth sister's birthday occurred in the winter; so when her turn came, she saw what the others had not seen the first time they went up. The sea looked quite green, and large icebergs were floating about, each like a pearl, she said, but larger and loftier than the churches built by men. They were of the most singular shapes, and glittered like diamonds. She had seated herself upon one of the largest, and let the wind play with her long hair, and she remarked that all the ships sailed by rapidly, and steered as far away as they could from the iceberg, as if they were afraid of it. Towards evening, as the sun went down, dark clouds covered the sky, the thunder rolled and the lightning flashed, and the red light glowed on the icebergs as they rocked and tossed on the heaving sea. On all the ships the sails were reefed with fear and trembling, while she sat calmly on the floating iceberg, watching the blue lightning, as it darted its forked flashes into the sea.

When first the sisters had permission to rise to the surface, they were each delighted with the new and beautiful sights they saw; but now, as grown-up girls, they could go when they pleased, and they had become indifferent about it. They wished themselves back again in the water, and after a month had passed they said it was much more beautiful down below, and pleasanter to be at home. Yet often, in the evening hours, the five sisters would twine their arms round each other, and rise to the surface, in a row. They had more beautiful voices than any human being could have; and before the approach of a storm, and when they expected a ship would be lost, they swam before the vessel, and sang sweetly of the delights to be found in the depths of the sea, and begging the sailors not to fear if they sank to the bottom. But the sailors could not understand the song, they took it for the howling of the storm. And these things were never to be beautiful for them; for if the ship sank, the men were drowned, and their dead bodies alone reached the palace of the Sea King.

When the sisters rose, arm-in-arm, through the water in this way, their youngest sister would stand quite alone, looking after them, ready to cry, only that the mermaids have no tears, and therefore they suffer more. "Oh, were I but fifteen years old," said she: "I know that I shall love the world up there, and all the people who live in it."

At last she reached her fifteenth year. "Well, now, you are grown up," said the old dowager, her grandmother; "so you must let me adorn you like your other sisters;" and she placed a wreath of white lilies in her hair, and every flower leaf was half a pearl. Then the old lady ordered eight great oysters to attach themselves to the tail of the princess to show her high rank.

"But they hurt me so," said the little mermaid.

"Pride must suffer pain," replied the old lady. Oh, how gladly she would have shaken off all this grandeur, and laid aside the heavy wreath! The red flowers in her own garden would have suited her much better, but she could not help herself: so she said, "Farewell," and rose as lightly as a bubble to the surface of the water. The sun had just set as she raised her head above the waves; but the clouds were tinted with crimson and gold, and through the glimmering twilight beamed the evening star in all its beauty. The sea was calm, and the air mild and fresh. A large ship, with three masts, lay becalmed on the water, with only one sail set; for not a breeze stiffed, and the sailors sat idle on deck or amongst the rigging. There was music and song on board; and, as darkness came on, a hundred colored lanterns were lighted, as if the flags of all nations waved in the air. The little mermaid swam close to the cabin windows; and now and then, as the waves lifted her up, she could look in through clear glass window-panes, and see a number of well-dressed people within. Among them was a young prince, the most beautiful of all, with large black eyes; he was sixteen years of age, and his birthday was being kept with much rejoicing. The sailors were dancing on deck, but when the prince came out of the cabin, more than a hundred rockets rose in the air, making it as bright as day. The little mermaid was so startled that she dived under water; and when she again stretched out her head, it appeared as if all the stars of heaven were falling around her, she had never seen such fireworks before. Great suns spurted fire about, splendid fireflies flew into the blue air, and everything was reflected in the clear, calm sea beneath. The ship itself was so brightly illuminated that all the people, and even the smallest rope, could be distinctly and plainly seen. And how handsome the young prince looked, as he pressed the hands of all present and smiled at them, while the music resounded through the clear night air.

It was very late; yet the little mermaid could not take her eyes from the ship, or from the beautiful prince. The colored lanterns had been extinguished, no more rockets rose in the air, and the cannon had ceased firing; but the sea became restless, and a moaning, grumbling sound could be heard beneath the waves: still the little mermaid remained by the cabin window, rocking up and down on the water, which enabled her to look in. After a while, the sails were quickly unfurled, and the noble ship continued her passage; but soon the waves rose higher, heavy clouds darkened the sky, and lightning appeared in the distance. A dreadful storm was approaching; once more the sails were reefed, and the great ship pursued her flying course over the raging sea. The waves rose mountains high, as if they would have overtopped the mast; but the ship dived like a swan between them, and then rose again on their lofty, foaming crests. To the little mermaid this appeared pleasant sport; not so to the sailors. At length the ship groaned and creaked; the thick planks gave way under the lashing of the sea as it broke over the deck; the mainmast snapped asunder like a reed; the ship lay over on her side; and the water rushed in. The little mermaid now perceived that the crew were in danger; even she herself was obliged to be careful to avoid the beams and planks of the wreck which lay scattered on the water. At one moment it was so pitch dark that she could not see a single object, but a flash of lightning revealed the whole scene; she could see every one who had been on board excepting the prince; when the ship parted, she had seen him sink into the deep waves, and she was glad, for she thought he would now be with her; and then she remembered that human beings could not live in the water, so that when he got down to her father's palace he would be quite dead. But he must not die. So she swam about among the beams and planks which strewed the surface of the sea, forgetting that they could crush her to pieces. Then she dived deeply under the dark waters, rising and falling with the waves, till at length she managed to reach the young prince, who was fast losing the power of swimming in that stormy sea. His limbs were failing him, his beautiful eyes were closed, and he would have died had not the little mermaid come to his assistance. She held his head above the water, and let the waves drift them where they would.

In the morning the storm had ceased; but of the ship not a single fragment could be seen. The sun rose up red and glowing from the water, and its beams brought back the hue of health to the prince's cheeks; but his eyes remained closed. The mermaid kissed his high, smooth forehead, and stroked back his wet hair; he seemed to her like the marble statue in her little garden, and she kissed him again, and wished that he might live. Presently they came in sight of land; she saw lofty blue mountains, on which the white snow rested as if a flock of swans were lying upon them. Near the coast were beautiful green forests, and close by stood a large building, whether a church or a convent she could not tell. Orange and citron trees grew in the garden, and before the door stood lofty palms. The sea here formed a little bay, in which the water was quite still, but very deep; so she swam with the handsome prince to the beach, which was covered with fine, white sand, and there she laid him in the warm sunshine, taking care to raise his head higher than his body. Then bells sounded in the large white building, and a number of young girls came into the garden. The little mermaid swam out farther from the shore and placed herself between some high rocks that rose out of the water; then she covered her head and neck with the foam of the sea so that her little face might not be seen, and watched to see what would become of the poor prince. She did not wait long before she saw a young girl approach the spot where he lay. She seemed frightened at first, but only for a moment; then she fetched a number of people, and the mermaid saw that the prince came to life again, and smiled upon those who stood round him. But to her he sent no smile; he knew not that she had saved him. This made her very unhappy, and when he was led away into the great building, she dived down sorrowfully into the water, and returned to her father's castle. She had always been silent and thoughtful, and now she was more so than ever. Her sisters asked her what she had seen during her first visit to the surface of the water; but she would tell them nothing. Many an evening and morning did she rise to the place where she had left the prince. She saw the fruits in the garden ripen till they were gathered, the snow on the tops of the mountains melt away; but she never saw the prince, and therefore she returned home, always more sorrowful than before. It was her only comfort to sit in her own little garden, and fling her arm round the beautiful marble statue which was like the prince; but she gave up tending her flowers, and they grew in wild confusion over the paths, twining their long leaves and stems round the branches of the trees, so that the whole place became dark and gloomy. At length she could bear it no longer, and told one of her sisters all about it. Then the others heard the secret, and very soon it became known to two mermaids whose intimate friend happened to know who the prince was. She had also seen the festival on board ship, and she told them where the prince came from, and where his palace stood.

"Come, little sister," said the other princesses; then they entwined their arms and rose up in a long row to the surface of the water, close by the spot where they knew the prince's palace stood. It was built of bright yellow shining stone, with long flights of marble steps, one of which reached quite down to the sea. Splendid gilded cupolas rose over the roof, and between the pillars that surrounded the whole building stood life-like statues of marble. Through the clear crystal of the lofty windows could be seen noble rooms, with costly silk curtains and hangings of tapestry; while the walls were covered with beautiful paintings which were a pleasure to look at. In the centre of the largest saloon a fountain threw its sparkling jets high up into the glass cupola of the ceiling, through which the sun shone down upon the water and upon the beautiful plants growing round the basin of the fountain. Now that she knew where he lived, she spent many an evening and many a night on the water near the palace. She would swim much nearer the shore than any of the others ventured to do; indeed once she went quite up the narrow channel under the marble balcony, which threw a broad shadow on the water. Here she would sit and watch the young prince, who thought himself quite alone in the bright moonlight. She saw him many times of an evening sailing in a pleasant boat, with music playing and flags waving. She peeped out from among the green rushes, and if the wind caught her long silvery-white veil, those who saw it believed it to be a swan, spreading out its wings. On many a night, too, when the fishermen, with their torches, were out at sea, she heard them relate so many good things about the doings of the young prince, that she was glad she had saved his life when he had been tossed about half-dead on the waves. And she remembered that his head had rested on her bosom, and how heartily she had kissed him; but he knew nothing of all this, and could not even dream of her. She grew more and more fond of human beings, and wished more and more to be able to wander about with those whose world seemed to be so much larger than her own. They could fly over the sea in ships, and mount the high hills which were far above the clouds; and the lands they possessed, their woods and their fields, stretched far away beyond the reach of her sight. There was so much that she wished to know, and her sisters were unable to answer all her questions. Then she applied to her old grandmother, who knew all about the upper world, which she very rightly called the lands above the sea.

"If human beings are not drowned," asked the little mermaid, "can they live forever? do they never die as we do here in the sea?"

"Yes," replied the old lady, "they must also die, and their term of life is even shorter than ours. We sometimes live to three hundred years, but when we cease to exist here we only become the foam on the surface of the water, and we have not even a grave down here of those we love. We have not immortal souls, we shall never live again; but, like the green sea-weed, when once it has been cut off, we can never flourish more. Human beings, on the contrary, have a soul which lives forever, lives after the body has been turned to dust. It rises up through the clear, pure air beyond the glittering stars. As we rise out of the water, and behold all the land of the earth, so do they rise to unknown and glorious regions which we shall never see."

"Why have not we an immortal soul?" asked the little mermaid mournfully; "I would give gladly all the hundreds of years that I have to live, to be a human being only for one day, and to have the hope of knowing the happiness of that glorious world above the stars."

"You must not think of that," said the old woman; "we feel ourselves to be much happier and much better off than human beings."

"So I shall die," said the little mermaid, "and as the foam of the sea I shall be driven about never again to hear the music of the waves, or to see the pretty flowers nor the red sun. Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?"

"No," said the old woman, "unless a man were to love you so much that you were more to him than his father or mother; and if all his thoughts and all his love were fixed upon you, and the priest placed his right hand in yours, and he promised to be true to you here and hereafter, then his soul would glide into your body and you would obtain a share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give a soul to you and retain his own as well; but this can never happen. Your fish's tail, which amongst us is considered so beautiful, is thought on earth to be quite ugly; they do not know any better, and they think it necessary to have two stout props, which they call legs, in order to be handsome."

Then the little mermaid sighed, and looked sorrowfully at her fish's tail. "Let us be happy," said the old lady, "and dart and spring about during the three hundred years that we have to live, which is really quite long enough; after that we can rest ourselves all the better. This evening we are going to have a court ball."

It is one of those splendid sights which we can never see on earth. The walls and the ceiling of the large ball-room were of thick, but transparent crystal. May hundreds of colossal shells, some of a deep red, others of a grass green, stood on each side in rows, with blue fire in them, which lighted up the whole saloon, and shone through the walls, so that the sea was also illuminated. Innumerable fishes, great and small, swam past the crystal walls; on some of them the scales glowed with a purple brilliancy, and on others they shone like silver and gold. Through the halls flowed a broad stream, and in it danced the mermen and the mermaids to the music of their own sweet singing. No one on earth has such a lovely voice as theirs. The little mermaid sang more sweetly than them all. The whole court applauded her with hands and tails; and for a moment her heart felt quite gay, for she knew she had the loveliest voice of any on earth or in the sea. But she soon thought again of the world above her, for she could not forget the charming prince, nor her sorrow that she had not an immortal soul like his; therefore she crept away silently out of her father's palace, and while everything within was gladness and song, she sat in her own little garden sorrowful and alone. Then she heard the bugle sounding through the water, and thought-"He is certainly sailing above, he on whom my wishes depend, and in whose hands I should like to place the happiness of my life. I will venture all for him, and to win an immortal soul, while my sisters are dancing in my father's palace, I will go to the sea witch, of whom I have always been so much afraid, but she can give me counsel and help."

And then the little mermaid went out from her garden, and took the road to the foaming whirlpools, behind which the sorceress lived. She had never been that way before: neither flowers nor grass grew there; nothing but bare, gray, sandy ground stretched out to the whirlpool, where the water, like foaming mill-wheels, whirled round everything that it seized, and cast it into the fathomless deep. Through the midst of these crushing whirlpools the little mermaid was obliged to pass, to reach the dominions of the sea witch; and also for a long distance the only road lay right across a quantity of warm, bubbling mire, called by the witch her turfmoor. Beyond this stood her house, in the centre of a strange forest, in which all the trees and flowers were polypi, half animals and half plants; they looked like serpents with a hundred heads growing out of the ground. The branches were long slimy arms, with fingers like flexible worms, moving limb after limb from the root to the top. All that could be reached in the sea they seized upon, and held fast, so that it never escaped from their clutches. The little mermaid was so alarmed at what she saw, that she stood still, and her heart beat with fear, and she was very nearly turning back; but she thought of the prince, and of the human soul for which she longed, and her courage returned. She fastened her long flowing hair round her head, so that the polypi might not seize hold of it. She laid her hands together across her bosom, and then she darted forward as a fish shoots through the water, between the supple arms and fingers of the ugly polypi, which were stretched out on each side of her. She saw that each held in its grasp something it had seized with its numerous little arms, as if they were iron bands. The white skeletons of human beings who had perished at sea, and had sunk down into the deep waters, skeletons of land animals, oars, rudders, and chests of ships were lying tightly grasped by their clinging arms; even a little mermaid, whom they had caught and strangled; and this seemed the most shocking of all to the little princess.

She now came to a space of marshy ground in the wood, where large, fat water-snakes were rolling in the mire, and showing their ugly, drab-colored bodies. In the midst of this spot stood a house, built with the bones of shipwrecked human beings. There sat the sea witch, allowing a toad to eat from her mouth, just as people sometimes feed a canary with a piece of sugar. She called the ugly water-snakes her little chickens, and allowed them to crawl all over her bosom.

"I know what you want," said the sea witch; "it is very stupid of you, but you shall have your way, and it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty princess. You want to get rid of your fish's tail, and to have two supports instead of it, like human beings on earth, so that the young prince may fall in love with you, and that you may have an immortal soul." And then the witch laughed so loud and disgustingly, that the toad and the snakes fell to the ground, and lay there wriggling about. "You are but just in time," said the witch; "for after sunrise to-morrow I should not be able to help you till the end of another year. I will prepare a draught for you, with which you must swim to land tomorrow before sunrise, and sit down on the shore and drink it. Your tail will then disappear, and shrink up into what mankind calls legs, and you will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that you are the prettiest little human being they ever saw. You will still have the same floating gracefulness of movement, and no dancer will ever tread so lightly; but at every step you take it will feel as if you were treading upon sharp knives, and that the blood must flow. If you will bear all this, I will help you."

"Yes, I will," said the little princess in a trembling voice, as she thought of the prince and the immortal soul.

"But think again," said the witch; "for when once your shape has become like a human being, you can no more be a mermaid. You will never return through the water to your sisters, or to your father's palace again; and if you do not win the love of the prince, so that he is willing to forget his father and mother for your sake, and to love you with his whole soul, and allow the priest to join your hands that you may be man and wife, then you will never have an immortal soul. The first morning after he marries another your heart will break, and you will become foam on the crest of the waves."

"I will do it," said the little mermaid, and she became pale as death.

"But I must be paid also," said the witch, "and it is not a trifle that I ask. You have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the depths of the sea, and you believe that you will be able to charm the prince with it also, but this voice you must give to me; the best thing you possess will I have for the price of my draught. My own blood must be mixed with it, that it may be as sharp as a two-edged sword."

"But if you take away my voice," said the little mermaid, "what is left for me?"

"Your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive eyes; surely with these you can enchain a man's heart. Well, have you lost your courage? Put out your little tongue that I may cut it off as my payment; then you shall have the powerful draught."

"It shall be," said the little mermaid.

Then the witch placed her cauldron on the fire, to prepare the magic draught.

"Cleanliness is a good thing," said she, scouring the vessel with snakes, which she had tied together in a large knot; then she pricked herself in the breast, and let the black blood drop into it. The steam that rose formed itself into such horrible shapes that no one could look at them without fear. Every moment the witch threw something else into the vessel, and when it began to boil, the sound was like the weeping of a crocodile. When at last the magic draught was ready, it looked like the clearest water. "There it is for you," said the witch. Then she cut off the mermaid's tongue, so that she became dumb, and would never again speak or sing. "If the polypi should seize hold of you as you return through the wood," said the witch, "throw over them a few drops of the potion, and their fingers will be torn into a thousand pieces." But the little mermaid had no occasion to do this, for the polypi sprang back in terror when they caught sight of the glittering draught, which shone in her hand like a twinkling star.

So she passed quickly through the wood and the marsh, and between the rushing whirlpools. She saw that in her father's palace the torches in the ballroom were extinguished, and all within asleep; but she did not venture to go in to them, for now she was dumb and going to leave them forever, she felt as if her heart would break. She stole into the garden, took a flower from the flower-beds of each of her sisters, kissed her hand a thousand times towards the palace, and then rose up through the dark blue waters. The sun had not risen when she came in sight of the prince's palace, and approached the beautiful marble steps, but the moon shone clear and bright. Then the little mermaid drank the magic draught, and it seemed as if a two-edged sword went through her delicate body: she fell into a swoon, and lay like one dead. When the sun arose and shone over the sea, she recovered, and felt a sharp pain; but just before her stood the handsome young prince. He fixed his coal-black eyes upon her so earnestly that she cast down her own, and then became aware that her fish's tail was gone, and that she had as pretty a pair of white legs and tiny feet as any little maiden could have; but she had no clothes, so she wrapped herself in her long, thick hair. The prince asked her who she was, and where she came from, and she looked at him mildly and sorrowfully with her deep blue eyes; but she could not speak. Every step she took was as the witch had said it would be, she felt as if treading upon the points of needles or sharp knives; but she bore it willingly, and stepped as lightly by the prince's side as a soap-bubble, so that he and all who saw her wondered at her graceful-swaying movements. She was very soon arrayed in costly robes of silk and muslin, and was the most beautiful creature in the palace; but she was dumb, and could neither speak nor sing.

Beautiful female slaves, dressed in silk and gold, stepped forward and sang before the prince and his royal parents: one sang better than all the others, and the prince clapped his hands and smiled at her. This was great sorrow to the little mermaid; she knew how much more sweetly she herself could sing once, and she thought, "Oh if he could only know that! I have given away my voice forever, to be with him."

The slaves next performed some pretty fairy-like dances, to the sound of beautiful music. Then the little mermaid raised her lovely white arms, stood on the tips of her toes, and glided over the floor, and danced as no one yet had been able to dance. At each moment her beauty became more revealed, and her expressive eyes appealed more directly to the heart than the songs of the slaves. Every one was enchanted, especially the prince, who called her his little foundling; and she danced again quite readily, to please him, though each time her foot touched the floor it seemed as if she trod on sharp knives.

The prince said she should remain with him always, and she received permission to sleep at his door, on a velvet cushion. He had a page's dress made for her, that she might accompany him on horseback. They rode together through the sweet-scented woods, where the green boughs touched their shoulders, and the little birds sang among the fresh leaves. She climbed with the prince to the tops of high mountains; and although her tender feet bled so that even her steps were marked, she only laughed, and followed him till they could see the clouds beneath them looking like a flock of birds travelling to distant lands. While at the prince's palace, and when all the household were asleep, she would go and sit on the broad marble steps; for it eased her burning feet to bathe them in the cold sea-water; and then she thought of all those below in the deep.

Once during the night her sisters came up arm-in-arm, singing sorrowfully, as they floated on the water. She beckoned to them, and then they recognized her, and told her how she had grieved them. After that, they came to the same place every night; and once she saw in the distance her old grandmother, who had not been to the surface of the sea for many years, and the old Sea King, her father, with his crown on his head. They stretched out their hands towards her, but they did not venture so near the land as her sisters did.

As the days passed, she loved the prince more fondly, and he loved her as he would love a little child, but it never came into his head to make her his wife; yet, unless he married her, she could not receive an immortal soul; and, on the morning after his marriage with another, she would dissolve into the foam of the sea.

"Do you not love me the best of them all?" the eyes of the little mermaid seemed to say, when he took her in his arms, and kissed her fair forehead.

"Yes, you are dear to me," said the prince; "for you have the best heart, and you are the most devoted to me; you are like a young maiden whom I once saw, but whom I shall never meet again. I was in a ship that was wrecked, and the waves cast me ashore near a holy temple, where several young maidens performed the service. The youngest of them found me on the shore, and saved my life. I saw her but twice, and she is the only one in the world whom I could love; but you are like her, and you have almost driven her image out of my mind. She belongs to the holy temple, and my good fortune has sent you to me instead of her; and we will never part."

"Ah, he knows not that it was I who saved his life," thought the little mermaid. "I carried him over the sea to the wood where the temple stands: I sat beneath the foam, and watched till the human beings came to help him. I saw the pretty maiden that he loves better than he loves me;" and the mermaid sighed deeply, but she could not shed tears. "He says the maiden belongs to the holy temple, therefore she will never return to the world. They will meet no more: while I am by his side, and see him every day. I will take care of him, and love him, and give up my life for his sake."

Very soon it was said that the prince must marry, and that the beautiful daughter of a neighboring king would be his wife, for a fine ship was being fitted out. Although the prince gave out that he merely intended to pay a visit to the king, it was generally supposed that he really went to see his daughter. A great company were to go with him. The little mermaid smiled, and shook her head. She knew the prince's thoughts better than any of the others.

"I must travel," he had said to her; "I must see this beautiful princess; my parents desire it; but they will not oblige me to bring her home as my bride. I cannot love her; she is not like the beautiful maiden in the temple, whom you resemble. If I were forced to choose a bride, I would rather choose you, my dumb foundling, with those expressive eyes." And then he kissed her rosy mouth, played with her long waving hair, and laid his head on her heart, while she dreamed of human happiness and an immortal soul. "You are not afraid of the sea, my dumb child," said he, as they stood on the deck of the noble ship which was to carry them to the country of the neighboring king. And then he told her of storm and of calm, of strange fishes in the deep beneath them, and of what the divers had seen there; and she smiled at his descriptions, for she knew better than any one what wonders were at the bottom of the sea.

In the moonlight, when all on board were asleep, excepting the man at the helm, who was steering, she sat on the deck, gazing down through the clear water. She thought she could distinguish her father's castle, and upon it her aged grandmother, with the silver crown on her head, looking through the rushing tide at the keel of the vessel. Then her sisters came up on the waves, and gazed at her mournfully, wringing their white hands. She beckoned to them, and smiled, and wanted to tell them how happy and well off she was; but the cabin-boy approached, and when her sisters dived down he thought it was only the foam of the sea which he saw.

The next morning the ship sailed into the harbor of a beautiful town belonging to the king whom the prince was going to visit. The church bells were ringing, and from the high towers sounded a flourish of trumpets; and soldiers, with flying colors and glittering bayonets, lined the rocks through which they passed. Every day was a festival; balls and entertainments followed one another.

But the princess had not yet appeared. People said that she was being brought up and educated in a religious house, where she was learning every royal virtue. At last she came. Then the little mermaid, who was very anxious to see whether she was really beautiful, was obliged to acknowledge that she had never seen a more perfect vision of beauty. Her skin was delicately fair, and beneath her long dark eye-lashes her laughing blue eyes shone with truth and purity.

"It was you," said the prince, "who saved my life when I lay dead on the beach," and he folded his blushing bride in his arms. "Oh, I am too happy," said he to the little mermaid; "my fondest hopes are all fulfilled. You will rejoice at my happiness; for your devotion to me is great and sincere."

The little mermaid kissed his hand, and felt as if her heart were already broken. His wedding morning would bring death to her, and she would change into the foam of the sea. All the church bells rung, and the heralds rode about the town proclaiming the betrothal. Perfumed oil was burning in costly silver lamps on every altar. The priests waved the censers, while the bride and bridegroom joined their hands and received the blessing of the bishop. The little mermaid, dressed in silk and gold, held up the bride's train; but her ears heard nothing of the festive music, and her eyes saw not the holy ceremony; she thought of the night of death which was coming to her, and of all she had lost in the world. On the same evening the bride and bridegroom went on board ship; cannons were roaring, flags waving, and in the centre of the ship a costly tent of purple and gold had been erected. It contained elegant couches, for the reception of the bridal pair during the night. The ship, with swelling sails and a favorable wind, glided away smoothly and lightly over the calm sea. When it grew dark a number of colored lamps were lit, and the sailors danced merrily on the deck. The little mermaid could not help thinking of her first rising out of the sea, when she had seen similar festivities and joys; and she joined in the dance, poised herself in the air as a swallow when he pursues his prey, and all present cheered her with wonder. She had never danced so elegantly before. Her tender feet felt as if cut with sharp knives, but she cared not for it; a sharper pang had pierced through her heart. She knew this was the last evening she should ever see the prince, for whom she had forsaken her kindred and her home; she had given up her beautiful voice, and suffered unheard-of pain daily for him, while he knew nothing of it. This was the last evening that she would breathe the same air with him, or gaze on the starry sky and the deep sea; an eternal night, without a thought or a dream, awaited her: she had no soul and now she could never win one. All was joy and gayety on board ship till long after midnight; she laughed and danced with the rest, while the thoughts of death were in her heart. The prince kissed his beautiful bride, while she played with his raven hair, till they went arm-in-arm to rest in the splendid tent. Then all became still on board the ship; the helmsman, alone awake, stood at the helm. The little mermaid leaned her white arms on the edge of the vessel, and looked towards the east for the first blush of morning, for that first ray of dawn that would bring her death. She saw her sisters rising out of the flood: they were as pale as herself; but their long beautiful hair waved no more in the wind, and had been cut off.

"We have given our hair to the witch," said they, "to obtain help for you, that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife: here it is, see it is very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge it into the heart of the prince; when the warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow together again, and form into a fish's tail, and you will be once more a mermaid, and return to us to live out your three hundred years before you die and change into the salt sea foam. Haste, then; he or you must die before sunrise. Our old grandmother moans so for you, that her white hair is falling off from sorrow, as ours fell under the witch's scissors. Kill the prince and come back; hasten: do you not see the first red streaks in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and you must die." And then they sighed deeply and mournfully, and sank down beneath the waves.

The little mermaid drew back the crimson curtain of the tent, and beheld the fair bride with her head resting on the prince's breast. She bent down and kissed his fair brow, then looked at the sky on which the rosy dawn grew brighter and brighter; then she glanced at the sharp knife, and again fixed her eyes on the prince, who whispered the name of his bride in his dreams. She was in his thoughts, and the knife trembled in the hand of the little mermaid: then she flung it far away from her into the waves; the water turned red where it fell, and the drops that spurted up looked like blood. She cast one more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince, and then threw herself from the ship into the sea, and thought her body was dissolving into foam. The sun rose above the waves, and his warm rays fell on the cold foam of the little mermaid, who did not feel as if she were dying. She saw the bright sun, and all around her floated hundreds of transparent beautiful beings; she could see through them the white sails of the ship, and the red clouds in the sky; their speech was melodious, but too ethereal to be heard by mortal ears, as they were also unseen by mortal eyes. The little mermaid perceived that she had a body like theirs, and that she continued to rise higher and higher out of the foam. "Where am I?" asked she, and her voice sounded ethereal, as the voice of those who were with her; no earthly music could imitate it.

"Among the daughters of the air," answered one of them. "A mermaid has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal destiny. But the daughters of the air, although they do not possess an immortal soul, can, by their good deeds, procure one for themselves. We fly to warm countries, and cool the sultry air that destroys mankind with the pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers to spread health and restoration. After we have striven for three hundred years to all the good in our power, we receive an immortal soul and take part in the happiness of mankind. You, poor little mermaid, have tried with your whole heart to do as we are doing; you have suffered and endured and raised yourself to the spirit-world by your good deeds; and now, by striving for three hundred years in the same way, you may obtain an immortal soul."

The little mermaid lifted her glorified eyes towards the sun, and felt them, for the first time, filling with tears. On the ship, in which she had left the prince, there were life and noise; she saw him and his beautiful bride searching for her; sorrowfully they gazed at the pearly foam, as if they knew she had thrown herself into the waves. Unseen she kissed the forehead of her bride, and fanned the prince, and then mounted with the other children of the air to a rosy cloud that floated through the aether.

"After three hundred years, thus shall we float into the kingdom of heaven," said she. "And we may even get there sooner," whispered one of her companions. "Unseen we can enter the houses of men, where there are children, and for every day on which we find a good child, who is the joy of his parents and deserves their love, our time of probation is shortened. The child does not know, when we fly through the room, that we smile with joy at his good conduct, for we can count one year less of our three hundred years. But when we see a naughty or a wicked child, we shed tears of sorrow, and for every tear a day is added to our time of trial!"

HCA.Gilead.org.il
Copyright ©Zvi Har'El
$Date: 2007/12/13 20:45:29 $

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AR out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it: many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above.

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Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm

A miller fell slowly but surely into poverty, until finally he had nothing more than his mill and a large apple tree which stood behind it. One day he had gone into the forest to gather wood, where he was approached by an old man, whom he had never seen before, and who said, "Why do you torment yourself with chopping wood? I will make you rich if you will promise me that which is standing behind your mill."

"What can that be but my apple tree?" thought the miller, said yes, and signed it over to the strange man.

The latter, however, laughed mockingly and said, "I will come in three years and get what belongs to me," then went away.

When he arrived home, his wife came up to him and said, "Miller, tell me, where did all the wealth come from that is suddenly in our house? All at once all the chests and boxes are full, and no one brought it here, and I don't know where it came from."

He answered, "It comes from an strange man whom I met in the woods and who promised me great treasures if I would but sign over to him that which stands behind the mill. We can give up the large apple tree for all this."

"Oh, husband!" said the woman, terrified. "That was the devil. He didn't mean the apple tree, but our daughter, who was just then standing behind the mill sweeping the yard."

The miller's daughter was a beautiful and pious girl, and she lived the three years worshipping God and without sin. When the time was up and the day came when the evil one was to get her, she washed herself clean and drew a circle around herself with chalk. The devil appeared very early in the morning, but he could not approach her.

He spoke angrily to the miller, "Keep water away from her, so she cannot wash herself any more. Otherwise I have no power over her."

The miller was frightened and did what he was told. The next morning the devil returned, but she had wept into her hands, and they were entirely clean.

Thus he still could not approach her, and he spoke angrily to the miller, "Chop off her hands. Otherwise I cannot get to her."

The miller was horrified and answered, "How could I chop off my own child's hands!"

Then the evil one threatened him, saying, "If you do not do it, then you will be mine, and I will take you yourself."

This frightened the father, and he promised to obey him. Then he went to the girl and said, "My child, if I do not chop off both of your hands, then the devil will take me away, and in my fear I have promised him to do this. Help me in my need, and forgive me of the evil that I am going to do to you."

She answered, "Dear father, do with me what you will. I am your child," and with that she stretched forth both hands and let her father chop them off.

The devil came a third time, but she had wept so long and so much onto the stumps, that they were entirely clean. Then he had to give up, for he had lost all claim to her.

The miller spoke to her, "I have gained great wealth through you. I shall take care of you in splendor as long as you live."

But she answered, "I cannot remain here. I will go away. Compassionate people will give me as much as I need."

Then she had her mutilated arms tied to her back, and at sunrise she set forth, walking the entire day until it was night. She came to a royal garden, and by the light of the moon she saw that inside there were trees full of beautiful fruit. But she could not get inside, for there it was surrounded by water.

Having walked the entire day without eating a bite, she was suffering from hunger, and she thought, "Oh, if only I were inside the garden so I could eat of those fruits. Otherwise I shall perish."

Then she kneeled down and, crying out to God the Lord, she prayed. Suddenly an angel appeared. He closed a head gate, so that the moat dried up, and she could walk through.

She entered the garden, and the angel went with her. She saw a fruit tree with beautiful pears, but they had all been counted. She stepped up to the tree and ate from it with her mouth, enough to satisfy her hunger, but no more. The gardener saw it happen, but because the angel was standing by her he was afraid and thought that the girl was a spirit. He said nothing and did not dare to call out nor to speak to the spirit. After she had eaten the pear she was full, and she went and lay down in the brush.

The king who owned this garden came the next morning. He counted the fruit and saw that one of the pears was missing. He asked the gardener what had happened to it. It was not lying under the tree, but had somehow disappeared.

The gardener answered, "Last night a spirit came here. It had no hands and ate one of the pears with its mouth."

The king said, "How did the spirit get across the water? And where did it go after it had eaten the pear?"

The gardener answered, "Someone dressed in snow-white came from heaven and closed the head gate so the spirit could walk through the moat. Because it must have been an angel I was afraid, and I asked no questions, and I did not call out. After the spirit had eaten the pear it went away again."

The king said, "If what you said is true, I will keep watch with you tonight."

After it was dark the king entered the garden, bringing a priest with him who was to talk to the spirit. All three sat down under the tree and kept watch. At midnight the girl came creeping out of the brush, stepped up to the tree, and again ate off a pear with her mouth. An angel dressed in white was standing next to her.

The priest walked up to them and said, "Have you come from God, or from the world? Are you a spirit or a human?"

She answered, "I am not a spirit, but a poor human who has been abandoned by everyone except God."

The king said, "Even if you have been abandoned by the whole world, I will not abandon you."

He took her home with him to his royal castle, and because she was so beautiful and pure he loved her with all his heart, had silver hands made for her, and took her as his wife.

After a year the king had to go out into the battlefield, and he left the young queen in the care of his mother, saying, "If she has a child, support her and take good care of her, and immediately send me the news in a letter."

She gave birth to a beautiful son. The old mother quickly wrote this in a letter, giving the joyful news to the king.

Now on the way the messenger stopped at a brook to rest. Tired from his long journey, he fell asleep. Then the devil came to him. He still wanted to harm the pious queen, and he took the letter, putting in its place one that stated that the queen had brought a changeling into the world. When the king read this letter he was frightened and saddened, but nevertheless he wrote an answer that they should take good care of the queen until his return. The messenger returned with this letter, but he rested at the same place, and again fell asleep. The devil came again and placed a different letter in his bag. This letter said that they should kill the queen with her child.

The old mother was terribly frightened when she received this letter. She could not believe it, and wrote to the king again, but she got back the same answer, because each time the devil substituted a false letter. And the last letter even stated that they should keep the queen's tongue and eyes as proof.

The old mother lamented that such innocent blood was to be shed, and in the night she had a doe killed, cut out its tongue and eyes, and had them put aside.

Then she said to the queen, "I cannot have you killed as the king has ordered, but you can no longer stay here. Go out into the wide world with your child, and never come back."

The old mother tied the queen's child onto her back, and the poor woman went away with weeping eyes. She came to a great, wild forest where she got onto her knees and prayed to God. Then the angel of the Lord appeared to her and led her to a small house. On it was a small sign with the words, "Here anyone can live free."

A snow-white virgin came from the house and said, "Welcome, Queen," then led her inside. She untied the small boy from her back, held him to her breast so he could drink, and then laid him in a beautiful made-up bed.

Then the poor woman said, "How did you know that I am a queen?"

The white virgin answered, "I am an angel, sent by God to take care of you and your child."

She stayed in this house for seven years, and was well taken care of. And through the grace of God and her own piety her chopped-off hands grew back.

The king finally came back home from the battlefield, and the first thing he wanted to do was to see his wife and their child.

Then the old mother began to weep, saying, "You wicked man, why did you write to me that I was to put two innocent souls to death," and she showed him the two letters that the evil one had counterfeited. Then she continued to speak, "I did what you ordered," and showed him as proof the eyes and the tongue.

Then the king began to weep even more bitterly for his poor wife and his little son, until the old woman had mercy and said to him, "Be satisfied that she is still alive. I secretly had a doe killed and took the proofs from it. I tied your wife's child onto her back and told her to go out into the wide world, and she had to promise never to come back here, because you were so angry with her."

Then the king said, "I will go as far as the sky is blue, and will neither eat nor drink until I have found my dear wife and my child again, provided that in the meantime they have not died or perished from hunger."

Then the king traveled about for nearly seven years, searching in all the stone cliffs and caves, but he did not find her, and he thought that she had perished. He neither ate nor drank during the entire time, but God kept him alive. Finally he came to a great forest, where he found a little house with a sign containing the words, " Here anyone can live free."

The white virgin came out, took him by the hand, led him inside, and said, "Welcome, King," then asked him where he had come from.

He answered, "I have been traveling about for nearly seven years looking for my wife and her child, but I cannot find them."

The angel offered him something to eat and drink, but he did not take it, wanting only to rest a little. He lay down to sleep, covering his face with a cloth.

Then the angel went into the room where the queen was sitting with her son, whom she normally called "Filled-with-Grief."

The angel said to her, "Go into the next room with your child. Your husband has come."

She went to where he was lying, and the cloth fell from his face.

Then she said, "Filled-with-Grief, pick up the cloth for your father and put it over his face again."

The child picked it up and put it over his face again. The king heard this in his sleep and let the cloth fall again.

Then the little boy grew impatient and said, "Mother, dear, how can I cover my father's face? I have no father in this world. I have learned to pray, 'Our father which art in heaven,' and you have said that my father is in heaven, and that he is our dear God. How can I know such a wild man? He is not my father."

Hearing this, the king arose and asked who she was.

She said, "I am your wife, and this is your son Filled-with-Grief."

He saw her living hands and said, "My wife had silver hands."

She answered, "Our merciful God has caused my natural hands to grow back."

The angel went into the other room, brought back the silver hands, and showed them to him. Now he saw for sure that it was his dear wife and his dear child, and he kissed them, and rejoiced, and said, "A heavy stone has fallen from my heart."

Then the angel of God gave them all something to eat, and then they went back home to his old mother. There was great joy everywhere, and the king and the queen conducted their wedding ceremony once again, and they lived happily until their blessed end.

Source: Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, "Das Mädchen ohne Hände," Kinder- und Hausmärchen, gesammelt durch die Brüder Grimm [Children's and Household Tales -- Grimms' Fairy Tales], 7th edition, vol. 1 (Göttingen: Verlag der Dieterichschen Buchhandlung, 1857), no. 31,pp. 162-68.

A shorter, simpler version of this tale was included in the first edition of Kinder- und Hausmärchen (1812). A translation of the 1812 version is appended below. The tale was expanded and revised for the second edition (1819).

The Grimms' primary source for the version of 1812 was Marie Hassenpflug (1788-1856). The version of 1819 shows the influence of Dorothea Viehmann (1755-1815) and others.

Translated by D. L. Ashliman. © 2001-2002.

Aarne-Thompson-Uther type 706. Variations of this tale are found around the world.

Version of 1812
A miller, who was so poor that he had nothing more than his mill and a large apple tree which stood behind it, went into the forest to gather wood. There he was approached by an old man, who said, "Why do you torment yourself so? I will make you rich if you will sign over to me that which is standing behind your mill. I will come and claim it in three years."
The miller thought, "That is my apple tree," agreed, and signed it over to the man.

When he came home, his wife said to him, "Miller, where did all the wealth come from that suddenly has filled every chest and cupboard in our house?"

"I received it from an old man in the forest by signing over to him that which is standing behind the mill."

"Husband!" said the woman, terrified. "This is going to be very bad. The old man was the devil, and he had our daughter in mind, who was just then standing behind the mill sweeping the yard."

Now the miller's daughter was very beautiful and pious. Three years later when the devil came, early in the morning, and wanted to take her, she had drawn a circle around herself with chalk and had washed herself clean.

Therefore the devil could not approach her, and angrily he said to the miller, "Keep wash water away from her, so she cannot wash herself any more, and I can have power over her."

The miller was frightened and did what he was told. The next day the devil returned, but she had wept into her hands and washed herself with her tears, and was entirely clean.

Because the devil still could not approach her, he was very angry, and ordered the miller, "Chop off her hands, so I can get to her."

The miller was horrified and answered, "How could I chop off my dear child's hands? No, I will not do it."

"Then do you know what? I will take you, if you don't do it!"

That frightened the miller terribly, and driven by fear he promised to do what the devil had ordered. He went to his daughter and said, "My child, the devil will take me if I don't chop off both your hands, and I have promised him that I will do it. I beg for your forgiveness."

"Father," she said, "do with me what you will," stretched forth her hands, and let him chop them off.

The devil came a third time, but she had wept so long onto her stumps, that she was still entirely clean, and the devil had lost all power over her.

The miller, because he had become so wealthy through her, promised to take the best care of her for the rest of her life, but she did not want to remain there.

"I must leave here," she said. "Compassionate people will give me enough to keep me alive."

She had the chopped-off hands tied to her back, and she set forth with the rising sun, walking the entire day until evening, when she came to the king's garden. There was a gap in the garden hedge. She went inside, found a fruit tree, shook it with her body until the apples fell to the ground, bent over and picked them up with her teeth, and ate them. Thus she lived for two days, but on the third day the garden watchmen saw her, captured her, and threw her into prison.

The next morning she was brought before the king and sentenced to be banished from the land, but the prince said, "Wait, wouldn't it be better to let her tend the chickens in the courtyard?" So she stayed there for a time and tended the chickens. The prince saw her often and grew very fond of her.

Meanwhile the time came when he was to get married. Messengers were sent everywhere in the world to find him a beautiful bride. "You needn't look so far and wide," he said. "I know where one is very nearby."

The old king pondered this back and forth, but he could not think of a single maiden in his kingdom who was both beautiful and rich, "You surely don't want to marry the one who tends the chickens in the courtyard?" But his son declared that he would marry no one else, so finally the king had to agree. Soon afterward he died, and the prince succeeded him as king and lived happily for a time with his wife.

Once the king had to go away to war, and during his absence his wife gave birth to a beautiful child. She sent a messenger with a letter telling her husband the joyful news. On the way the messenger stopped to rest by a brook and fell asleep. The devil, who was still trying to harm her, came to him and exchanged the letter with one that stated that the queen had given birth to a changeling. The king was very saddened to read this, but he wrote that the queen and the child should be well cared for until his return. The messenger started back with this letter. When he stopped to rest at the same spot and fell asleep, the devil again appeared, this time exchanging the king's letter with one that ordered the queen and the child to be driven from the kingdom. This had to be done, however much the people all wept with sorrow.

"I did not come here to become queen," she said. "I have no luck, and I demand none. Just tie my child and my hands onto my back, and I will set forth into the world."

That evening she came to a place in a thick forest where a good old man was sitting by a spring. "Be so kindhearted as to hold my child to my breast until I have nursed him," she said.

The man did that, after which he said to her, "Go to that thick tree over there and wrap your maimed arms around it three times!" And when she had done this, her hands grew back on. Then he showed her a house. "You can live there," he said, "but do not go outside, and do not open the door for anyone unless he asks three times to come in, for God's sake."

Meanwhile the king returned home and discovered how he had been deceived. Accompanied by a single servant he set forth, and after a long journey he finally happened, one night, into the same forest where the queen was living, but he did not know that she was so close to him. "There is a little light from a house back there," said his servant. "We can rest there."

"No," said the king. "I do not want to rest so long, but rather to continue searching for my wife. I cannot rest until I find her."

But the servant begged so much and complained so about his weariness that out of compassion, the king gave in. When they came to the house, the moon was shining, and they saw the queen standing by the window. "That must be our queen; she looks just like her," said the servant, "but I see now that she is not the one, for this one has hands."

The servant asked her for shelter, but she refused, because he had not asked "for God's sake." He was about to go on and seek another place for their night's lodging when the king himself came up and said, "Let me in, for God's sake!"

"I cannot let you in until you have asked me three time, for God's sake," she replied. And after the king had asked two more times, she opened the door. His little son ran to him and led him in to his mother. The king recognized her immediately as his beloved wife. The next morning they all journeyed together back to their kingdom, and as soon as they had left the house, it disappeared behind them.

Source: Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, "Mädchen ohne Hände," Kinder- und Hausmärchen [Children's and Household Tales -- Grimms' Fairy Tales], 1st edition, vol. 1 (Berlin: In der Realschulbuchhandlung, 1812), no. 31, pp. 132-38.

Translated by D. L. Ashliman. © 2012.

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Revised January 31, 2012.

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A miller fell slowly but surely into poverty, until finally he had nothing more than his mill and a large apple tree which stood behind it. One day he had gone into the forest to gather wood, where he was approached by an old man, whom he had never seen before, and who said, "Why do you torment yourself with chopping wood?

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