|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 |
HE spring so dear to all creatures, young and old, came at last,
and before the first few days of it had gone, the king rode through
its budding valleys to see his little daughter. He had been in a
distant part of his dominions all the winter, for he was not in the
habit of stopping in one great city, or of visiting only his
favourite country houses, but he moved from place to place, that
all his people might know him. Wherever he journeyed, he kept a
constant look-out for the ablest and best men to put into office;
and wherever he found himself mistaken, and those he had appointed
incapable or unjust, he removed them at once. Hence you see it was
his care of the people that kept him from seeing his princess so
often as he would have liked. You may wonder why he did not take
her about with him; but there were several reasons against his
 so, and I suspect her great-great-grandmother had had a
principal hand in preventing it. Once more Irene heard the
bugle-blast, and once more she was at the gate to meet her father
as he rode up on his great white horse.
After they had been alone for a little while, she thought of what
she had resolved to ask him.
"Please, king-papa," she said, "Will you tell me where I got this
pretty ring? I can't remember."
The king looked at it. A strange beautiful smile spread like
sunshine over his face, and an answering smile, but at the same
time a questioning one, spread like moonlight over Irene's.
"It was your queen-mamma's once," he said.
"And why isn't it hers now?" asked Irene.
"She does not want it now," said the king, looking grave.
"Why doesn't she want it now?"
"Because she's gone where all those rings are made."
"And when shall I see her?" asked the princess.
"Not for some time yet," answered the king, and the tears came into
 Irene did not remember her mother and did not know why her father
looked so, and why the tears came in his eyes; but she put her arms
round his neck and kissed him, and asked no more questions.
The king was much disturbed on hearing the report of the
gentlemen-at-arms concerning the creatures they had seen; and I
presume would have taken Irene with him that very day, but for what
the presence of the ring on her finger assured him of. About an
hour before he left, Irene saw him go up the old stair; and he did
not come down again till they were just ready to start; and she
thought with herself that he had been up to see the old lady. When
he went away he left other six gentlemen behind him, that there
might be six of them always on guard.
And now, in the lovely spring weather, Irene was out on the
mountain the greater part of the day. In the warmer hollows there
were lovely primroses, and not so many that she ever got tired of
them. As often as she saw a new one opening an eye of light in the
blind earth, she would clap her hands with gladness, and unlike
some children I know, instead of pulling it, would touch
 it as
tenderly as if it had been a new baby, and, having made its
acquaintance, would leave it as happy as she found it. She treated
the plants on which they grew like birds' nests; every fresh flower
was like a new little bird to her. She would pay visits to all the
flower-nests she knew, remembering each by itself. She would go
down on her hands and knees beside one and say: "Good morning! Are
you all smelling very sweet this morning? Good-bye!" and then she
 would go to another nest, and say the same. It was a favourite
amusement with her. There were many flowers up and down, and she
loved them all, but the primroses were her favourites.
"They're not too shy, and they're not a bit forward," she would say
There were goats too about, over the mountain, and when the little
kids came she was as pleased with them as with the flowers. The
goats belonged to the miners mostly—a few of them to Curdie's
mother; but there were a good many wild ones that seemed to belong
to nobody. These the goblins counted theirs, and it was upon them
partly that they lived. They set snares and dug pits for them; and
did not scruple to take what tame ones happened to be caught; but
they did not try to steal them in any other manner, because they
were afraid of the dogs the hill-people kept to watch them, for the
knowing dogs always tried to bite their feet. But the goblins had
a kind of sheep of their own—very queer creatures, which they
drove out to feed at night, and the other goblin creatures were
wise enough to keep good watch over them, for they knew they should
have their bones by and by.
Hundreds of additional titles available for
online reading when you join Gateway to the Classics