She proceeded to tell the princess’s story very charmingly. The king and queen, overjoyed to learn that Donkey Skin was a great princess, became even more enthusiastic about her, but the prince was more aware of her goodness and his love for her grew as the fairy told her tale. He was so impatient to marry her that he could scarcely allow the time needed for the preparations for the grand wedding to which they were entitled.

The king and queen, now completely devoted to their future daughter-in-law, overwhelmed the princess with affection. She had said that she could not marry the prince without the consent of her father the king, so he was the first person to receive an invitation to the wedding. He was not, however, told the name of the bride. The Lilac Fairy who, quite rightly, was supervising all the wedding preparations, had recommended this course of action in order to prevent trouble.

Kings came from all the countries around, some in sedan chairs, others in beautiful carriages; those who came from the most faraway countries rode on elephants and tigers and eagles. But the most magnificent and glorious king of all was the father of the princess. He had, fortunately, regained his sanity, and had married a queen who was a widow and very beautiful, but they had no children. The princess ran to her father and he recognised her at once, embracing her very tenderly before she could throw herself upon his knees. The king and queen presented their son to him, and the happiness of all concerned was complete. The marriage was celebrated with great pomp and circumstance, but the prince and princess were so wrapped up in each other that they were hardly aware of the ceremony.

In spite of the protests of the noble-hearted prince, his father had him crowned the same day and, kissing his hand, placed him on the throne.

The marriage celebrations continued for almost three months, and the love of this young couple would have lasted for more than 100 years, had they lived long enough, so great was their devotion towards each other.

THE MORAL

It scarce may be believed,

This tale of Donkey-skin;

But laughing children in the home;

Yea, mothers, and grandmothers too,

Are little moved by facts!

By them ‘twill be received.

THE LIFE OF CHARLES PERRAULT

Andrew Lang tells us that ‘Charles Perrault did many things well, above all the things that he had not been taught to do, and he did best of all the thing which nobody expected him to have done. A vivid, genial and indomitable character and humour made him one of the best-liked men of his age.’ A great deal is known about Perrault’s interesting and varied life, thanks mainly to D’Alembert’s history of the French Academy, and Perrault’s own memoirs, written for his grandchildren, but not published until 1769, 66 years after his death in 1703. Unfortunately, his memoirs are not comprehensive, ending as they do at the mid-point of his career, and failing to provide the unrestrained and unreserved account of his family life that would be expected in a modern autobiography. There is little to be learned from this document about his wife and his two beloved sons, for example.

Perrault was born in Paris on 12 January 1628, the fifth son of Pierre Perrault, a successful and prosperous parliamentary lawyer. When he was nine years old he was sent to Beauvais College, a day school. His father helped him with his studies at home, as Perrault himself would later help his own children. Although the boy was clever, excelling in the composition of verse, and was always first in his class, he was never a model schoolboy. His education at Beauvais came to a premature end when he quarrelled with a teacher and left the school.

The cause of this quarrel provides an insight into Perrault’s subsequent career. He refused to accept his teacher’s philosophical arguments merely on the grounds that they were traditional, maintaining that his own arguments were better ‘because they were new’. Perrault did not leave the school alone. One of his friends, a boy called Beaurain, supported him, and for the next two or three years they invented a course of study for themselves, reading together in the Tuileries Gardens whenever the mood took them. This haphazard style of education certainly didn’t benefit Beaurain, of whom little more was ever heard. Moreover, it didn’t give Perrault a studying habit, although he was always a man of discernment with an independent mind, and an enthusiastic amateur.

In 1651 Perrault was awarded a degree by the University of Orléans, an institution reputed to grant degrees with what has been described as a ‘scandalous readiness’, the payment of fees being the only necessary requisite. In the meantime, he had entertained a vague notion of following his brother Claude into the medical profession, and he had also participated in the theological controversy, centred on the nature of grace, then raging between the Jesuits and Jansenists.

Having abandoned medicine and theology, the young man next turned his attention to the law and was called to the bar within a month of taking his degree. He practised with some success for a while, and even toyed with the idea of codifying the laws of France. However, the legal profession soon proved too dry and dusty to hold his attention, and he found a position in the office of another brother, Pierre, who was Chief Commissioner of Taxes for Paris. There was little work for him to do, so he used his time reading extensively in his brother’s excellent library.

Not having anything else with which to occupy himself, he soon returned to the writing of verse, which had been one of his main boyhood pleasures. His first sustained literary effort was a parody of Book VI of Virgil’s Aeneid. He was assisted in his task by his schoolfriend Beaurain and Beaurain’s brother Nicolas, a doctor of the Sorbonne. Perrault’s brother Claude drew the pen and ink sketches with which it was illustrated.