From Once Upon a
Time When the Princess Rescued the Prince
by Rosemary Lake
The Girl Who Could Not Shudder
Once a rich merchant had two daughters, whom he loved dearly. The older sister always wore fancy clothes and minded her dignity; but the younger sister, Portia, wore old clothes, played in the mud, and carried bugs and snakes out of the house in her bare hands. “They never bite me,” she told her big sister, “because they know I mean them no harm, poor things.”
“You will never get on in the world that way,” sniffed the older, who was named Priscilla, and who was getting ready for her first ball.
Their father agreed. “Men do not want a girl who is braver than they are. You are supposed to shriek and toss your hair around ineffectually.”
“And shudder in a ladylike way,” said Priscilla. “And call for smelling salts, and be prissy and quaint.”
Portia sighed. “I ain't the kind.”
“Ooh, such language! But can't you at least shudder occasionally?”
Portia wasn’t quite sure what that meant. “I can wiggle my ears,” she said. “Would that do?”
Priscilla thought about it. “No, that wouldn't work as well. I don't think.”
Their father thought it over, then agreed. “Suitable husbands are not found by wiggling ears. I shall hire you a Governess at once.”
So next week the Governess arrived: a very nice lady who wore lots of beads and shawls pinned together by cameo brooches. She set up a school-room on the top floor of their house, in a turret with bay windows all around, most of which were held closed by the branches and leaves of a beautiful green elm tree (for the shutters had fallen into disrepair long ago). The room was like a tree house, and both girls fell in love with it and with their Governess immediately.
One day when they were all in the schoolroom happily studying (in the dancing shadows of the elm leaves) a chapter in the Etiquette Manual on Polite Subterfuges for Declining Unwanted Invitations, Portia asked, “Why not just tell the truth?”
“Because it would be quite improper,” the Governess sighed. “What will happen when you go out in Society, I shudder to think–”
“What does ‘shudder’ mean?” asked Priscilla.
The Governess gasped. “You don't even know that?”
“Well, no,” said Portia. “I know about window shutters, of course.” She pointed to the wooden shutter outside the window, which had begun knocking back and forth in the wind, letting distracting amounts of sun and air into the schoolroom.
The Governess sighed and took up her mantle of instruction, pinning it on carefully with two brooches. “No, this is S H U D D E R, with two D's.” She wrote the word on the blackboard and demonstrated a shudder (though not very well).
Portia tried to imitate the shudder, but all that happened was she sneezed.
“No, no!” The Governess demonstrated again.
Portia tried again, but all that happened was she yawned.
“Well, if you are getting bored, we can stop for today,” the Governess said, offended.
“I’m not bored,” said Portia. “I just can’t shudder right.”
The Governess demonstrated again.
Portia tried again, but all that happened was her ears wiggled.
The Governess gave a heartfelt sigh. “Never mind, enough for today. I feel a spell of the vapours coming on. Doubtless it will last all week, with any luck….”
So the Governess took to her bed with the vapours, and with many cold compresses and smelling salts. The vapours soon became a head cold, so that she was continually calling to the nurse, or to Portia, or to whoever else might be passing, to bring her “hod buddered toast” or a “hod wader boddle” or occasionally “liddle greed apbles.”
Finally the Governess fell into a feverish sleep which lasted for days. The girls were overcome with pity, and often visited and tried to help the doctor. But when the doctor gave the old woman a medicine which made her open her eyes for a moment, she just stared at the girls without recognizing them, then went back to her feverish raving.
Now one day it happened that the shutter on the Governess’ bedroom window came loose, and began rattling in the wind. So along with raving about a “whiddling tea-keddle” and “here kiddy kiddy kiddy”, the old woman also kept murmuring in her sleep, “Shudder, shudder … please, please…”
“Oh, poor Governess,” said Portia, bending over the bed. “But why do you want me to shudder?”
“Please … shudder … please…”
Priscilla said, “It does seem odd to want someone else to shake all over.”
“Yes,” said Portia. “But it does cheer people up when I wiggle my ears. Maybe wiggling all over would have even more effect. Shall we try?”
“How would she see us do it?”
“Well, she does open her eyes when the doctor gives her medicine. Maybe if we were standing next to him, we could shudder for her then.”
So the girls tried Portia’s plan. When the doctor next visited, they stood just beside him as he gave the medicine. For a moment the Governess opened her eyes, and both girls did their best.
Priscilla thought, I hope I am never so old and sick, and shuddered and shuddered.
Portia thought, Poor Governess, I must try my best, and bravely tried her best; but hers was scarcely a shudder at all.
The old woman stared for a moment; and in that moment the window shutter rattled again. So the Governess said, “Pordia, plead fid thad shudder.” Then her eyes closed and she fell asleep again.
“Well, that settles it,” said Portia, after the girls had left the room. “I must learn to shudder properly. Where shall I go to learn it?”
Priscilla thought a minute. “Well, there is a Gov-erness’ Supply Store in the town. We could ask there.”
So the girls put on their best dresses and went to the Governess’ Supply Store. It was a neat little gray house with white zinnias growing in the window boxes. “How can I learn to shudder properly?” Portia asked the shopkeeper. “It is a surprise for my dear Governess.”
The shopkeeper frowned. “Shuddering is supposed to Come Naturally to young ladies,” she said.
“Unfortunately,” said Priscilla, “it has not. Do you have a remedy for difficult cases?”
The shopkeeper thought for a while, then fetched a little golden Butler Doll, in a little black lacquer box just the right size for a pocket. “Perhaps the doll will know,” she said. “He is full of general knowledge: he was designed to accompany young persons on the Grand Tour, and knows protocols in three hundred languages.”
Thinking of this, Portia almost shuddered acciden-tally, but unfortunately controlled herself.
“That is very – many,” Priscilla said politely.
“He can answer many questions, and can tell you about academies for learning all sorts of things.”
So the girls bought the Butler Doll, and took him into the park and sat down on the cleanest bench they could find, and Portia opened the box.
The Butler Doll said: “What would you like to learn to-day?”
Portia asked: “Can you tell me where I can go to learn to shudder?”
The Butler Doll said: “First, do not run a-way from home. That on-ly works in fair-y tales. It is sym-bol-ic of find-ing ones In-ner Re-sour-ces. Nev-er run a-way no mat-ter how man-y Im-poss-i-ble Tasks you are giv-en.”
“I am not running away,” said Portia. “And shuddering is not impossible. Priscilla does it, our Governess does it, so why then oh why can’t I?”
“It’s to make our Governess feel better,” Priscilla added helpfully.
“Nev-er un-der-take an un-auth-or-iz-ed quest for a Med-i-cin-al Tok-en. Con-sult a li-censed phy-si-ci-an.”
Portia sighed: “Could we get our money back?”
“Do you have your re-ceipt?”
Priscilla said, “I have an idea.” She put the Butler Doll back in his box and closed the lid for a minute. Then she took him out again.
The Butler Doll said: “What would you like to learn to-day?”
Priscilla said: “Are there any places with legends about shuddering?”
The Butler Doll said: “Look up the Haunt-ed Cas-tle of Shud-ders in Up-per Ha-vi-sham. At-tached to it is an in-ter-est-ing so-lar myth–”
Priscilla put him back in the box and took him out again.
The Butler Doll said: “What would you like to learn to-day?”
“What is the geography of Upper Havisham? Where is it?”
“This small vil-lage lies in the foot-hills of the Moun-tains of Mad-ness, and its prin-ci-pal in-dus-try is min-ing sil-ver nug-gets…”
Both girls took notes on what the Butler Doll said; then they thanked him politely and put him back in his box. The following morning Portia put on her traveling clothes (with the Butler Doll in her pocket), saddled her horse, and set out for Upper Havisham.
*
Portia had a pleasant afternoon’s ride cross-country to the Mountains of Madness, then spent the night at an inn near the foothills. Next morning she asked the innkeeper about the haunted castle. “Stay away,” the innkeeper said with a shudder, which encouraged Portia very much. “The castle is a chamber of horrors. The Mad Bride has redecorated it for revenge on a lover who jilted her.”
“What does ‘jilted’ mean?” Portia whispered to the Butler Doll.
“He is late to their wed-ding,” said the Butler Doll. “Twen-ty-four years late. This is com-mon in sol-ar myths.”
The innkeeper went on: “The Mad Bride changed herself into a Skeleton, so she can frighten everyone.”
“Poor thing,” said Portia, looking round the well-stocked kitchen of the inn. “Is she starving?”
The innkeeper laughed bitterly. “The Skeleton Bride has no lack of money. She owns all the mountains hereabout, and we pay our rent in silver nuggets from our mines. But she has thrown all our wealth down her black pit. She forgets that we have paid our rent, and demands more nuggets again next day. And then she laughs and throws them away also.”
“Which path leads to her castle?” asked Portia.
The innkeeper pointed out the window. “There. But do not go! You will see dreadful sights and hear terrible screams. People come back covered with soot and smelling like tar and they shudder for weeks afterwards.”
“Can I take a picnic lunch?” said Portia. “With some extra food, in case the Mad Bride is hungry?”
The innkeeper sighed and packed her a lunch of bread and cheese and a little bottle of olive oil with a clove of garlic in it. “If you meet any monsters, sprinkle the oil on them. And good luck to you.”
*
So Portia took the lunch bag and climbed up the muddy path to the castle. Along the way she overtook a village maid who was carrying a big basket of red roses toward the castle, and crying and shuddering with every step.
“Poor maid, what is the matter?” said Portia.
The maid sighed. “Every week I must take a basket of roses to the Mad Bride, and she frightens me so!”
“Would you like me to carry it for you? I am going that way myself.”
“Would you really do that? Could you bear it?”
“What could be easier, than to carry for a few minutes a basket of roses that isn't mine?”
So the maid gave her the basket, and Portia climbed on up the path.
At the top of the hill, there was a high wall of old brick: dismal, with a gate with a great many iron bars to it. Portia knocked.
Screeeeeeeaaauuuuuuiiiiiiiiiuuuuuuuueeeechhhhh.... With a terrible noise, the gate swung open.
“Poor gate,” said Portia, as she went through, “has no one oiled you?” So she took some of the oil with garlic and poured it on the hinges.
With a sigh, the gate swung closed and locked behind her.
Inside the wall was a barren cobblestone courtyard surrounding a tall dark castle with all its windows painted black. Portia knocked at the castle’s tall iron door, and a bird flew up out of the turret above her head. No one answered. She opened the door; which also creaked, so she oiled it too.
Inside was an empty hall and a dark stair. The stair carpet was blood-red, bright and new, with big burnt cloven hoof marks on it which smoked with a smell of sulphur. Portia was careful to step only on the hoof marks, so as not to track mud on the clean part of the carpet. She climbed and climbed, up and up, and at every landing the windows were painted thicker black. Finally she came to a long dark hall.
Most of the doors were locked, but one door opened. It didn’t seem to need oil. Here was a big fireplace with a smoky fire burning, and from above she heard an uproar and noise of tumbling.
Suddenly, with a loud scream, half a grinning man came down the chimney and fell out on the hearth!
“Poor thing,” said Portia. “Where is the rest of you?”
The uproar began again, and the other half of the man fell down the chimney.
“That is better,” said Portia, and poked some coals back into the fire which he had knocked out.
The two halves of the grinning man put themselves together, though not very well; and he made hideous faces at her.
“Are you trying to wiggle your ears?” said Portia. “I’ll teach you how, if you’ll teach me to shudder.”
The man gnashed his teeth. The uproar began again, and two more men fell down the chimney in pieces. This raised a great cloud of soot, and Portia sneezed. “Was that a shudder?” she asked the Butler Doll hopefully.
“No,” said the Butler Doll. “It was just a great sneeze.”
The new men put themselves together. “We’ll soon teach you to shudder,” one of them said. Another uproar began, and nine more grinning men fell down in pieces, along with many great globs of tar. The men put themselves together, surrounded her, and walked closer and closer, carrying handfuls of tar.
Holding her nose so as not to sneeze, Portia tried very hard to shudder. Her ears wiggled.
Terrified, all the men screamed and ran away.
Portia sighed, swept all the coals back into the grate, and went on down the hall.
At the end of the hall she found another unlocked door. Here she came into a room full of cobwebs, which were strung in all directions from a big wedding cake on a marble table. The walls were hung with wreathes made of dead stems and thorns with no roses. Next to the cake sat a Skeleton dressed in a ragged wedding gown. The Skeleton had a basket of roses next to her, nearly empty; and she was pulling the petals from a blood-red rose and throwing them down a dark pit in the center of the floor.
“Er, excuse me, Ma’am,” said Portia.
“Ah!” the Skeleton grinned, looking up, “What a beautiful child. The child I might have had, if only–”
At this Portia knew the Mad Bride must really be crazy, because Portia was not beautiful at all, but just plain and a little too plump and pink-faced.
The Skeleton reached toward Portia with her bony arms.
“Poor Skeleton,” said Portia, “here are some more roses.”
Grinning insanely, the Skeleton grabbed Portia and threw her down the black pit, roses and all.
Portia fell and fell. For a moment she was scared. Then she thought: I have not hit bottom yet, so this pit must be very deep. Doubtless I shall be killed instantly. So what is there to worry about? So she amused herself by doing somersaults and swan dives as she fell, and smelling the roses all the time, since they too were falling alongside her.
Now, the bottom of this pit was full of dry leaves and cobwebs; and, for a great many years, the Mad Bride had been throwing rose petals down on top of the cobwebs. So in fact Portia fell into safety; and when she landed at the bottom of the pit she found herself sitting in a big soft heap of rose petals.
By now Portia was rather tired from climbing the hill and the stairs, so she just stretched and took a nap on the soft rose petals. It was very nice of that Skeleton to remove all the thorns, she thought.
After a while Portia woke up quite rested and feeling good as new.
It was pitch dark here. Portia felt all around the walls, but found no way out of the pit. So she began digging down through the rose petals. Soon she found some sticky cobwebs which she used to keep the petals from falling back into the hole she was digging, although there were not quite enough cobwebs. Unfortunately there were no spiders nearby to make more.
Finally Portia dug all the way down to the stony floor. It seemed to be covered with pebbles, which she could not see in the darkness. But as she dug about, she saw a crack of light in one wall. She dug toward the light, and found a wooden door with a golden key in its keyhole. Peering through the crack, she saw sunshine and grass. The door led outside!
As she cleared petals from around the door, a beam of sunlight shone through a crack and fell on the pebbles which covered the floor, and showed they were in fact nuggets of silver.
These must be the villagers’ nuggets, thought Portia. So she filled her pockets, then turned the key in the lock and went out through the little wooden door into the sunshine.
There on the hillside stood the maid, with a crowd of villagers armed with pitchforks and garlic cloves. “Oh, thank goodness!” said the maid. “We were just coming to rescue you. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Portia said, brushing rose petals off her clothes. “I didn't learn to shudder, but the castle was very interesting. Are these your silver nuggets?” And she told the villagers the whole story.
The maid laughed and hugged her, and the other villagers went through the little wooden door and gathered all the silver nuggets their pockets could hold. The maid took Portia straight to the inn for a good hot supper, while the other villagers fetched the mayor and told him: “Here is a little girl who went into the Skeleton’s Castle and came out smelling like a rose.”
When he heard the story, the mayor at once took his guardsmen through the wooden door to fetch the rest of the nuggets. On the far side of the pit they found a spiral staircase, which led straight up to the Mad Bride’s room.
The Mad Bride was very glad to see the mayor (even though he was too heavy to throw into the pit), for she wanted to complain that her roses were not being delivered promptly. So the mayor arranged that from now on, every week the Skeleton would let down a basket from her window and the villagers would fill it with roses (in season). Thus no villager would need to enter the castle. “An excellent plan,” said the Mad Bride. “That way they cannot track mud on the carpet.”
In gratitude, the villagers sewed for Portia a fine velvet cape, and the mayor held a great banquet in her honor, to which he invited her father and her sister Priscilla and the old Governess (who was by now quite recovered from her illness).
The Mayor invited the Mad Bride too, but she politely declined on account of a previous engagement.
So on the night of the celebration, all the guests at the mayor’s mansion sat down to a wonderful banquet, with many fine dishes, and ate and drank their fill with great merriment. Then for dessert the cook brought in a big silver tub of ice cream; but at the last moment he tripped and spilt all the ice cream down Portia’s neck!
Portia jumped up from the table, shaking and shuddering and shivering, and tore off her cape, all the time dipping fingers in the ice cream and tasting it. It was the very best ice cream she had ever tasted: chocolate and strawberry and chocolate and mint and chocolate and raspberry and chocolate. Portia got goose bumps all over, and her hair stood on end. “Hor-rip-i-la-tion!” exclaimed the Butler Doll. “I do be-lieve she's got it!”
“Ooohh, you were right!” Portia said, hugging the Governess. “Shuddering is worth learning!” And the ice cream got all over the Governess and her hair stood on end too, and Priscilla ran and hugged them both. So there the three of them stood shuddering and laughing together, till the mayor got tired of it and sent them straight home in a fine coach drawn by six white horses, with three heavy smooth satin bed sheets spread to protect the maroon velvet cushions from ice cream stains.
*
After that, whenever the Governess began to complain of the vapours, or even to look sad, Portia would wiggle her ears to cheer her up. And if that didn’t work, Portia ordered ice cream. So the Governess never fell sick again; and the whole family lived merrily from then on.
But as for suitable husbands … that is another story.
Very much changed from Grimm’s “Story of a Youth Who Went Forth to Learn What Fear Was.” The half men down the chimney are from Grimm, and the learning to shudder only in a eucatastrophe. Most else larger than allusions is mine, though a search for ‘Havisham’ will find something interesting.
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