Polling my students the other day, I was surprised to learn that only about half of them know the story of the Frog Prince. The golden ball down the well? I prompted. Let me eat from your plate and sleep on your pillow? Nope. The DVD release of the Disney library through the late 1990s and early 2000s ensured they’d all have Snow White and Little Mermaid and Aladdin in their blood, but a lot of the picture-book fairy tales seem to have passed them by.
In my novel Mad Miss Mimic there’s a scene where the main character is sitting happily in the parlour next to her handsome suitor Mr. Thornfax, and her aunt comments that she looks like the princess with her golden ball. “Wouldn’t that make me the loathsome frog?” Mr. Thornfax asks her.
Now I’m worried my YA readers won’t know what the heck my characters are talking about. This is one of my deepest fears: that my English Professorhood disqualifies me from writing anything people will actually enjoy reading.
And yet, I also really want everyone to know the story of the Frog Prince. In fact I think everyone should be familiar with this story and as many other as possible of these deep-roots stories of the western world.
In every edition of their collected tales, the Grimm brothers put the Frog Prince first. Their earliest edition of the story, called “The Frog King, or Iron Heinrich” is particularly groovy, for two reasons:
1) There’s no frog-kissing in it whatsoever. The transformation from amphibian to handsome prince happens like this: The princess is so grossed out at the thought of sleeping with the frog that she picks him up and hurls him against her bedroom wall. When he ricochets back onto her bed he’s gorgeous, and we’re told, “Well, now indeed he did become her dear companion, and she cherished him as she had promised, and in their delight they fell asleep together.” (Isn’t it great how so much bed-centered activity is contained in the gentle word “cherished,” here?)
2) Iron Henry! I mean, what is this guy even doing in this story? He makes an appearance only belatedly, after the happily-ever-after part. Henry was a servant so saddened by his master the prince being turned to a frog that he had three iron bands cast around his heart to stop it from breaking. After the transformation back, the happy couple hears a loud crack from the back of the carriage. “It’s really nothing but the band around my heart [breaking off],” Henry assures them. And because this is a fairy tale, where things happen in threes, they have to pull over twice more for the same reason.