|The Princess and the Goblin|
|by George MacDonald|
|A marvelous tale of how the princess and Curdie, with the help of the great-great-grandmother, overcome the wicked goblins of the mountain. In the sphere of fantasy, author George MacDonald has few equals, and his rare touch of many aspects of life invariably gives to his stories a deeper meaning of the highest value. A contemporary writes of The Princess and the Goblin: "It is a graceful story, full of romance and adventure, with a deep meaning underlying the beauty of the surface, which gives it the life and mystery which forms the subtle charm MacDonald weaves into all his works, especially those for the young. Faith in that which is invisible, and the courage of that which we believe, are what he tries to teach. He speaks with a tender, earnest eloquence which draws a response from the reader, like music from the harp of a master minstrel." Ages 7-10 |
URDIE went home whistling. He resolved to say nothing about the
princess for fear of getting the nurse into trouble, for while he
enjoyed teasing her because of her absurdity, he was careful not to
do her any harm. He saw no more of the goblins, and was soon fast
asleep in his bed.
He woke in the middle of the night, and thought he heard curious
noises outside. He sat up and listened; then got up, and, opening
the door very quietly, went out. When he peeped round the corner,
he saw, under his own window, a group of stumpy creatures, whom he
at once recognized by their shape. Hardly, however, had he begun
his "One, two, three!" when they broke asunder, scurried away, and
were out of sight. He returned laughing, got into bed again, and
was fast asleep in a moment.
Reflecting a little over the matter in the
 morning, he came to the
conclusion that, as nothing of the kind had ever happened before,
they must be annoyed with him for interfering to protect the
princess. By the time he was dressed, however, he was thinking of
something quite different, for he did not value the enmity of the
goblins in the least.
As soon as they had had breakfast, he set
off with his father for the mine.
They entered the hill by a natural opening under a huge rock, where
a little stream rushed out. They followed its course for a few
yards, when the passage took a turn, and sloped steeply into the
heart of the hill. With many angles and windings and
branchings-off, and sometimes with steps where it came upon a
natural gulf, it led them deep into the hill before they arrived at
the place where they were at present digging out the precious ore.
This was of various kinds, for the mountain was very rich in the
better sorts of metals. With flint and steel, and tinder-box, they
lighted their lamps, then fixed them on their heads, and were soon
hard at work with their pickaxes and shovels and hammers. Father
and son were at work near each other, but not in the
 same gang—the passages out of which the ore was dug,
they called gangs—for
when the lode, or vein of ore, was small, one miner would have to
dig away alone in a passage no bigger than gave him just room to
work—sometimes in uncomfortable cramped positions. If they
stopped for a moment they could hear everywhere around them, some
nearer, some farther off, the sounds of their companions burrowing
away in all directions in the inside of the great mountain—some
 boring holes in the rock in order to blow it up with gunpowder,
others shovelling the broken ore into baskets to be carried to the
mouth of the mine, others hitting away with their pickaxes.
Sometimes, if the miner was in a very lonely part, he would hear
only a tap-tapping, no louder than that of a woodpecker, for the
sound would come from a great distance off through the solid
The work was hard at best, for it is very warm underground; but it
was not particularly unpleasant, and some of the miners, when they
wanted to earn a little more money for a particular purpose, would
stop behind the rest and work all night. But you could not tell
night from day down there, except from feeling tired and sleepy;
for no light of the sun ever came into those gloomy regions. Some
who had thus remained behind during the night, although certain
there were none of their companions at work, would declare the next
morning that they heard, every time they halted for a moment to
take breath, a tap-tapping all about them, as if the mountain were
then more full of miners than ever it was during the day; and some
in consequence would
 never stay overnight, for all knew those were
the sounds of the goblins. They worked only at night, for the
miners' night was the goblins' day. Indeed, the greater number of
the miners were afraid of the goblins; for there were strange
stories well known amongst them of the treatment some had received
whom the goblins had surprised at their work during the night. The
more courageous of them, however, amongst them Peter Peterson and
Curdie, who in this took after his father, had stayed in the mine
all night again and again, and although they had several times
encountered a few stray goblins, had never yet failed in driving
them away. As I have indicated already, the chief defence against
them was verse, for they hated verse of every kind, and some kinds
they could not endure at all. I suspect they could not make any
themselves, and that was why they disliked it so much. At all
events, those who were most afraid of them were those who could
neither make verses themselves nor remember the verses that other
people made for them; while those who were never afraid were those
who could make verses for themselves; for although there were
certain old rhymes which
 were very effectual, yet it was well known
that a new rhyme, if of the right sort, was even more distasteful
to them, and therefore more effectual in putting them to flight.
Perhaps my readers may be wondering what the goblins could be
about, working all night long, seeing they never carried up the ore
and sold it; but when I have informed them concerning what Curdie
learned the very next night, they will be able to understand.
For Curdie had determined, if his father would permit him, to
remain there alone this night—and that for two reasons: first, he
wanted to get extra wages that he might buy a very warm red
petticoat for his mother, who had begun to complain of the cold of
the mountain air sooner than usual this autumn; and second, he had
just a faint hope of finding out what the goblins were about under
his window the night before.
When he told his father, he made no objection, for he had great
confidence in his boy's courage and resources.
"I'm sorry I can't stay with you," said Peter; "but I want to go
and pay the parson a visit this
 evening, and besides I've had a bit
of a headache all day."
"I'm sorry for that, father," said Curdie.
"Oh, it's not much. You'll be sure to take care of yourself, won't
"Yes, father; I will. I'll keep a sharp look-out, I promise you."
Curdie was the only one who remained in the mine. About six
o'clock the rest went away, everyone bidding him good night, and
telling him to take care of himself; for he was a great favourite
with them all.
"Don't forget your rhymes," said one.
"No, no,"answered Curdie.
"It's no matter if he does," said another, "for he'll only have to
make a new one."
"Yes: but he mightn't be able to make it fast enough," said
another; "and while it was cooking in his head, they might take a
mean advantage and set upon him."
"I'll do my best," said Curdie. "I'm not afraid."
"We all know that," they returned, and left him.
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