This Armenian story is a good
example of a fairy tale with no fairies and no magic – but that’s more than
made up for by the excellent trick the sharp-witted, poor-but-proud little
heroine plays on a very gullible prince who is none of those things. His behaviour
is outrageous harassment, the (doomed) ploy of a privileged, mannerless young man to get a
girl’s attention. You wouldn’t think it
could end well - but it does, and that’s entirely down to the heroine’s actions.
Not only does she get her own back (in spades), she personally manufactures a situation in which the prince stands a good chance that his
worried father will allow him to marry her. Seamstresses don’t usually marry princes
– so perhaps she's had her eye on him, too!
Charles Downing who translated
this story notes that the original title was Derdziki aghdjik: ‘The Tailor’s Daughter’ and that it was told in
the 19th century “by a certain Ephrem Vasakian, of whom nothing but
his name is known”. It was collected in Hay
zhoghovrdakan heqiathner: ‘Armenian Popular Tales’ by I. Orbeli and S.
Taronian. The English translation was published in the collection ‘Armenian
Folk-tales and Fables’, tr. Charles Downing, OUP 1972
Once upon a time there was a tailor
and his wife. They had a little daughter whom they loved dearly, and one day
the tailor took his daughter and placed her with an old woman to learn how to
sew.
Opposite
the old woman’s house stood the royal palace, and every day the King’s son
would walk up and down upon the balcony wondering what the girl looked like,
and how he could get her to talk to him. For whenever she walked past, the
little seamstress kept her eyes firmly on the ground and paid him no attention.
One
day the prince thought of a way to make her speak to him, and he called to her
from the balcony as she passed by,
“Hey
there, tailor’s daughter, little bitch! How many threads are there in a piece
of cloth?”
The
girl did not reply.
The
prince repeated his question three times, and then the little seamstress, still
averting her head, said,
“Hey
there, King’s son, son of a dog! How many stars are there in the heavens?” She repeated her question three
times, and still she did not look up at the prince.
The
prince thought and thought. How was he to play a trick on this girl and get his
own back? He summoned the old woman who was teaching the girl how to sew.
“Grandmother,”
said he, “I’ll give you whatever you want, but bring me to your little
apprentice, so that I may give her a kiss.”
“Very
well, prince,” said the old woman, “may I be a sacrifice to your head and life!
Your wish is my command.”
She
brought out a large, wooden chest, and
next morning – without telling the little seamstress – she smuggled the prince
into it and hid him, covering the top with various garments. Then she called
her young apprentice:
“My
child, when you have finished, put your needlework away in the large wooden
chest.” The girl obeyed, and when she lifted the lid to put away her
needlework, out popped the prince, who caught her around the waist and kissed
her.
The
little seamstress made no song and dance about it. She said nothing and went
home where she lay in bed and pretended to be ill. She did not return to the
old woman’s house for several days. “What shall I do to get my revenge?” she
kept asking herself.
Her
mother and father could see something had upset her. “Child,” said they, “what are you brooding
about? Tell us what you want, and we shall do it for you if we can.”
“Father,”
said the little seamstress. “Sew me a large white cloak. Make it so that only
my eyes will be visible when I put it on. Stitch feathers on the back to look
like angels’ wings, and cover it so thickly with little bells and baubles that
there’ll be no room for even the head of a needle.”
Her
father made the cloak and brought it to her. “It has given me a lot of
trouble,” he said. “Try it on, my child, and let me see if it fits you.”
She
put it on, flounced about and flapped the wings, and was satisfied she really
did look like an angel in it. She took it off. “I am going to my
sewing-mistress’s house now, and I shall not be back tonight.”
She
went to the old woman’s house. “I am going to stay with you tonight,” she said.
“My mother and father have had to go on a journey.”
“Very
well, my child,” said the old woman. “If you want to stay here, stay.”
That
night after supper the little seamstress secretly left the house and stole into
the palace. While everyone was sleeping she crept into the prince’s
antechamber, put on her costume and then tiptoed into the prince’s bedroom.
Here she hopped about and flapped her wings, and the sound of tiny bells filled
the room.
The
prince opened his eyes; he saw the strange white figure standing over him and
was terrified! “Ah! What are you? What do you want of me?”
“I
am the angel Gabriel,” said the vision, “and I have come to take your soul!”
“I’m
an only son!” cried the prince. “Take all my treasure, take my hidden gold, but
do not take my soul!”
“If
that’s the way of it,” said the apparition, “you shall have ten days’ grace.
But I shall take a token from you in surety.”
The
prince was trembling, shaking from head to foot. “Take what you wish!”
The angel picked
up the prince’s golden wash-basin. “Be ready! In ten days time I shall return
for your soul!” And she left.
The little
seamstress took off her disguise, went home, wrapped the golden wash-basin in
some old clothes and put it in a chest. Dawn broke. She sat down to work.
The prince was
completely shattered by his meeting with the Angel of Death. He got up
half-paralysed, then crawled out slowly on to the balcony.
“If I do have to
die,” he said to himself, “I shall make that girl talk to me first.” And when
she passed by he called out,
“Hey there,
tailor’s daughter, little bitch! How many kisses are there in a wooden chest?”
He repeated his
question three times.
The little
seamstress raised her head. “Hey there, King’s son, son of a dog! How may angel
Gabriels are there? How many golden wash-basins are there? How many ten days’
grace are there?”
The prince
pondered these words. “The girl is an astrologer!” he said to himself. “She has
read the stars and learned of my approaching death!” He went in and flung
himself on his bed. “Woe is me, woe!” he wept. “I’m going to die!”
Then he began to
think. “The girl knows all about my coming death, about the number of stars in
the sky and about the angel Gabriel. She knows everything – I must marry her!”
He sent a valet
to his father the King to tell him that he was dying, and his father and mother
hurried to his bedside. “What does our kingdom lack, that you should lie there
weeping?” they cried. “We shall send for a good doctor to cure you!”
“I want the
tailor’s daughter in marriage,” said the prince. “Ask for her hand for me.”
“We shall fetch
her!” said the King. “If she will come voluntarily, good; if not we shall make
her. Anything, so long as you get better!”
He sent
messengers to the tailor’s house to ask his daughter’s hand in marriage for the
prince. When his daughter came home from work, her father said, “They have come
from the court to ask for your hand, daughter. Do you want to marry the King’s
son?”
“If you are
willing to give me away, father,” said she, “I am willing to marry him.”
So the parents
took the little seamstress to the palace and she was married to the prince.
They were put to bed together. But her husband just lay there crying, “Woe is
me, woe! I’m going to die!” and didn’t pay any attention to his new bride.
“King’s son, if
you do not like me, why did you marry me?”
“Ah, tailor’s
daughter!” sighed the prince, “what can I do? In six days time I am going to
die!”
“If you have
only six days left,” said his wife, “I am leaving you!”
She rose from
the bed. She had brought her angel’s robe with her, along with her dowry and
trousseau, so went out into the antechamber and donned the robe.
“My wife has
left me,” wept the prince, “and I am going to die!”
Just as he said
that, the girl came into his bedroom dressed in her angel’s robe with the
feathery wings and the little bells, and flapped and fluttered.
“Alas!” lamented
the prince. “The angel has come for me early!”
“I may as well
take your soul right now!” said the angel. Then the prince fell dumb with fear
and his knees knocked – and the little seamstress relented in case she
frightened him to death.
“Silly boy!” she
laughed – and nudged him with her elbow. “I am not the angel Gabriel. I am your
wife!”
The prince could
not believe it. “If you are my wife, take off that robe and let me see you!”
The little
seamstress took off her disguise.
“Show me my
golden wash-basin!”
The little
seamstress went to the chest, took out the golden wash-basin and placed it
before the prince.
“Wife, you must
be a witch!” said the prince. “Tell me the truth. Are you on familiar terms
with angels? Can you see the future?”
“I foresee that
you will have a long life and never die
– and will one day be king of this land!” said the little seamstress.
“How many stars are there in the heavens, then?” asked
the prince. “For since you asked me, you must know.”
“You shall tell
me the number of threads there are in a piece of cloth,” replied his wife, “for
that is just the number of the stars in the heavens.”
The prince saw
how he had been outwitted, and he laughed. He rose from his bed and the wedding
feast went on for seven days and nights – and as they achieved their hearts’
desire, so also may you!
Picture credits:
The Little Seamstress as Angel Gabriel - illustration by William Papas, from ‘Armenian
Folk-tales and Fables’, tr. Charles Downing, OUP 1972
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