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PRINCE HARWEDA AND THE MAGIC PRISON
Elizabeth Harrison
Little Harweda was born a prince. His father was
King over all the land and his mother was the most
beautiful Queen the world had ever seen and Prince
Harweda was their only child. From the day of his
birth everything that love or money could do for him had
been done. The very wind of heaven was made to fan over
an aeolian harp that it might enter his room, not as a strong,
fresh breeze, but as a breath of music. Reflectors were
so arranged in the windows that twice as much moonlight
fell on his crib as on that of any ordinary child. The
pillow on which his head rested was made out of the down from
humming birds’ breasts and the water in which his face and
hands were washed was always steeped in rose leaves before
being brought to the nursery. Everything that could be done
was done, and nothing which could add to his ease or comfort
was left undone.
But his parents, although they were King and Queen, were
not very wise, for they never thought of making the young prince
think of anybody but himself, so, of course, he grew to be
selfish and peevish, and by the time he was five years old he
was so disagreeable that nobody loved him. “Dear, dear!
what shall we do*’, said the poor Queen mother and the King
only sighed and answered “Ah, what indeed!” They were
both very much grieved at heart for they well knew that
little Harweda, although he was a prince, would never grow
up to be a really great King unless he could make his people
love him.
At last they decided to send for his fairy god-mother and
see if she could suggest anything which would cure Prince Har-
weda of always thinking about himself. “Well, well, well!”
exclaimed the god-mother when they had laid the case before
her — “This is a pretty state of affairs! and I his god-mother
too! Why wasn’t I called in sooner?” She then told them
that she would have to think a day and a night and a day again
before she could offer them any assistance. “But,” added
she, “if I take the child in charge you must promise not to inter-
fere for a whole year/’ The King and Queen gladly promised
that they would not speak to or even see their son for the
required time if the fairy god-mother would only cure him.
“We’ll see about that,” said the god-mother. “Humph,
expecting to be a King some day and not caring for anybody
but himself — a fine King he’ll make!” With that off she
flew and the King and Queen saw nothing more of her for a
day and a night and another day. Then back she came in a
great hurry. “Give me the prince,” said she; “I have his
house all ready for him. One month from to-day I’ll bring him
back to you. Perhaps he’ll be cured and perhaps he won’t.
If he is not cured then we shall try two months next time. We’ll
see, we’ll see.” Without any more ado she picked up the aston-
ished young prince and flew away with him as lightly as if he
were nothing but a feather or a straw. In vain the poor Queen
wept and begged for a last kiss. Before she had wiped her eyes,
the fairy god-mother and Prince Harweda were out of sight.
They flew a long distance until they reached a great forest.
When they had come to the middle of it, down flew the fairy,
and in a minute more the young prince was standing on the
green grass beside a beautiful pink marble palace that looked
something like a good-sized summer house.
“This is your home,” said the god-mother, “in it you will
find everything you need and you can do just as you choose
with your time.” Little Harweda was delighted at this for
there was nothing in the world he liked better than to do as he
pleased, so he tossed his cap up into the
air and ran into the lovely little house with-
out so much as saying “Thank you” to
his god-mother. “Humph,” said she as he
disappeared, “you’ll have enough of it before
you are through with it, my fine prince.”
With that off she flew.
Prince Harweda had no sooner set his foot inside the small,
rose-colored palace than the iron door shut with a bang and
locked itself. For you must know by this time that it was an
enchanted house, as all houses are that are built by fairies.
Prince Harweda did not mind being locked in, as he cared
very little for the great beautiful outside world, and the new
home which was to be all his own was very fine, and he was eager
to examine it. Then too he thought that when he was tired
of it, all he would have to do would be to kick on the door and
a servant from somewhere would come and open it, — ^he had
always had a servant ready to obey his slightest command.
His fairy god-mother had told him that it was his house,
therefore he was interested in looking at everything in it.
The floor was made of a beautiful red copper that shone in
the sunlight like burnished gold and seemed almost a dark red
in the shadow. He had never seen anything half so fine before.
The ceiling was of mother-of-pearl and showed a constant chang-
ing of tints of red and blue and yellow and green, all blending
into the gleaming white, as only mother-of-pearl can. From
the middle of this handsome ceiling hung a large gilded bird
cage containing a beautiful bird, which just at this moment
was singing a glad song of welcome to the Prince. Harweda
cared, however, very little about birds, so he took no notice of
the songster.
Around on every side were costly divans with richly embroid-
ered coverings, on which were many sizes of soft down pillows.
“Ah,” thought the prince, “here I can lounge at my ease with
no one to call me to stupid lessons!” Wonderfully carved jars
and vases of wrought gold and silver stood about on the floor
and each was filled with a different kind of perfume. “This
is delicious,” said Prince Harweda. “Now I can have all the
sweet odors I want without the trouble of going out into the
garden for roses or lilies.”
In the center of the room was a fountain of sparkling water
which leaped up and fell back into its marble basin with a kind
of rhythmical sound that made a faint, dreamy music very pleas-
ant to listen to.
On a table near at hand were various baskets of the most
tempting pears and grapes and peaches, and near them were
dishes of all kinds of sweetmeats. “Good, said the greedy-
young prince, “that is what I like best of all,” and therewith
he fell to eating the fruit and sweetmeats as fast as he could cram
them into his mouth. But strange to say, the table was just as
full as when he began, for no sooner did he reach his hand out
and take a soft mellow pear or a rich juicy peach than another
pear or peach took its place in the basket. The same thing
occurred when he helped himself to chocolate drops or marsh-
mallows or any of the other confectionery upon the table.
When Prince Harweda had eaten until he could eat no more
he threw himself down upon one of the couches and an invisible
hand gently stroked his hair until he fell asleep. When he awoke
he noticed for the first time the walls which, by the way, were
really the strangest part of his new home. They had in them
twelve long, checkered windows which reached from the ceiling
to the floor. The spaces between the windows were filled in with
mirrors exactly the same size as the windows, so that the whole
room was walled in with windows and looking glasses. Through
the three windows that looked to the north could be seen the
far distant mountains Beautiful, as they were called, towering
high above the surrounding country; sometimes their snow-
covered tops were pink or creamy yellow as they caught the rays
of the sunrise; sometimes they were dark purple or blue as they
reflected the storm cloud. From the three windows that faced
the south could be seen the great ocean, tossing and moving,
constantly catching a thousand gleams of silver from the moon-
light. Again and again, each little wave would be capped with
white from its romp with the wind. Yet, as the huge moun-
tains seemed to reach higher than man could climb, so the vast
ocean seemed to stretch out farther than any ship could possibly
carry him. The eastern windows gave each morning a glori-
ous vision of sky as the darkness of the night slowly melted into
the still,gray dawn, and that changed into a golden glow and that
in turn became a tender pink. It was really the most beauti-
ful as well as the most mysterious sight on earth if one watched
it closely. The windows on the west looked out upon a great
forest of tall fir trees and at the time of sunset the glorious colors
of the sunset sky could be seen between the dark green branches.
But little Prince Harweda cared for none of these beautiful
views. In fact, he scarcely glanced out of the windows at all,
he was so taken up with the broad, handsome mirrors, for in
each of them he could see himself reflected and he was very fond
of looking at himself in a looking glass. He was much pleased
when he noticed that the mirrors were so arranged that each
one not only reflected his whole body,head, arms, feet and all,
but that it also reflected his image as seen in several of the other
mirrors. He could thus see his front and back and each side,
all at the same time. As he was a handsome boy he enjoyed
these many views of himself immensely, and would stand and
sit and lie down just for the fun of seeing the many images of
himself do the same thing.
He spent so much time looking at and admiring himself in
the wonderful looking-glasses that he had very Httle time for
the books and games which had been provided for his amuse-
ment. Hours were spent each day first before one mirror and
then another, and he did not notice that the windows were grow-
ing narrower and the mirrors wider until the former had become so
small that they hardly admitted light enough for him to see
himself in the looking-glass. Still, this did not alarm him very-
much as he cared nothing whatever for the outside world. It
only made him spend more time before the mirror, as it was
now getting quite difficult for him to see himself at all. The
windows at last became mere slits in the wall
and the mirrors grew so large that they not
only reflected little Harweda but all of the
room besides in a dim, indistinct kind of a way.
Finally, however. Prince Harweda awoke
one morning and found himself in total dark-
ness. Not a ray of light came from the out-
side and of course, not an object in the room
could be seen. He rubbed his eyes and sat up
to make sure that he was not dreaming. Then he called loudly
for some one to come and open a window for him, but no one
came. He got up and groped his way to the iron door and tried
to open it, but it was, as you know, locked. He kicked
it and beat upon it, but he only bruised his fists and hurt
his toes. He grew quite angry now. How dare any
one shut him, a prince, up in a dark prison like this! He abused
his fairy god-mother, calling her all sorts of horrid names.
Then he upbraided his father and mother, the King and
Queen, for letting him go away with such a god-mother.
In fact, he blamed everybody and everything but himself for
his present condition, but it was of no use. The sound of his
own voice was his only answer. The whole of the outside world
seemed to have forgotten him.
As he felt his way back to his couch he knocked over one
of the golden jars which had held the liquid perfume, but the
perfume was all gone now and only an empty jar rolled over
the floor. He laid himself down on the divan but its soft pil-
lows had been removed and a hard iron frame-work received
him. He was dismayed and lay for a long time thinking of
what he had best do with himself. All before him was blank
darkness, as black as the darkest night you ever saw. He
reached out his hand to get some fruit to eat, but only one or
two withered apples remained on the table. Suddenly he noticed
that the tinkling music of the fountain had ceased. He hastily
groped his way over to it and he found in place of the dancing,
running stream stood a silent pool of water. A hush had fallen
upon everything, a dead silence was in the room. He threw
himself down upon the floor and lay there for a long, long time.
At last he heard, or thought he heard, a faint sound. He
listened eagerly. It seemed to be some tiny creature not far
from him, trying to move about. For the first time for nearly
a month he remembered the bird in its gilded cage. “Poor
little thing,” he cried as he sprang up, “You too are shut within
this terrible prison. This thick darkness must be as hard for
you to bear as it is for me.” He went towards the cage and as
he approached it the bird gave a sad Uttle chirp.
“You must need some water to drink,” continued he as he
filled its drinking cup. “This is all I have to give you.”
Just then he heard a harsh, grating sound, as of rusty bolts
sliding with difficulty out of their sockets, and then faint rays
of Ught not wider than a hair began to shine between the heavy
plate mirrors. Prince Harweda was filled with joy. “Perhaps,
perhaps,” said he softly, “I may yet see the light again. Ah,
how beautiful the outside world would look to me now!”
The next day he was so hungry that he began to eat one of
the old withered apples, and as he bit it, he thought of the bird,
his fellow-prisoner. “You must be hungry, too, poor little
thing,” said he as he divided his miserable food and put part of
it into the bird’s cage. Again came the harsh, grating sound,
and the boy noticed that the cracks of light were growing larger.
On going up to one and putting his eye close to it as he would
to a pinhole in a paper, he was rejoiced to find that he could
tell the greenness of the grass from the blue of the sky. “Ah,
my pretty bird,’* he cried joyfully, “I have had a glimpse of
the great, beautiful outside world and you shall have it too.”
With these words he climbed up into a chair and loosening
the cage from the golden chain by which it hung, he carried it
carefully to the nearest crack of light and placed it close to the
narrow opening. Again was heard the harsh, grating sound
and the walls moved a bit and the windows were now at least
an inch wide. At this the poor Prince clasped his hands with
delight. He sat himself down near the bird cage and gazed
out of the narrow opening. Never before had the trees looked
so tall and stately, or the white clouds floating through the sky
so lovely. The next day as he was carefully cleaning the bird’s
cage so that the little creature might be somewhat more comfort-
able, the walls again creaked and groaned and the mirrors grew
narrower by just so many inches as the windows widened. But
Prince Harweda saw only the flood of sunshine that poured in,
and the added beauty of the larger landscape. He cared noth-
ing whatever now for the stupid mirrors which could only reflect
what was placed before them. Each day he found something
new and beautiful in the view from the narrow windows. Now
it was a squirrel frisking about and running up some tall tree
trunk so rapidly that Prince Harweda could not follow it with
his eyes; again it was a mother bird feeding her young. By
this time the windows were a foot wide or more. One day as
two white doves suddenly soared aloft in the blue sky the poor
little bird who had now become the tenderly cared for comrade
of the young Prince, gave a pitiful little thrill. “Dear little
fellow,” cried Prince Harweda, “do you also long for your free-
dom? You shall at least be as free as I am.” So saying, he
opened the cage door and the bird flew out.
The Prince laughed as he watched it flutter about from chair
to table and back to chair again. He was so much occupied
with the bird that he did not notice that the walls had again
shaken and the windows were now their full size, until the added
light caused him to look around. He turned and saw the room
looking almost exactly as it did the day he entered it with so
much pride because it was all his own. Now it seemed close
and stuffy and he would gladly have exchanged it for the humb-
lest home in his father’s kingdom where he could meet people
and hear them talk and see them smile at each other, even if
they should take no notice of him. One day soon after this,
the little bird fluttered up against the window pane and beat
his wings against it in a vain effort to get out. A new idea seized
the young Prince, and taking up one of the golden jars he went
to the window and struck on one of its checkered panes of glass
with all his force. “You shall be free, even if I can not,” said
he to the bird. Two or three strong blows shivered the small
pane and the bird swept out into the free open air beyond. “Ah,
my pretty one, how glad I am that you are free at last,”
exclaimed the prince as he stood watching the flight of his fel-
low-prisoner. His face was bright with glad, unselfish joy over
the bird’s liberty. The small, pink marble palace shook from
top to bottom, the iron door flew open and the fresh wind from
the sea rushed in and seemed to catch the boy in its invisible
arms. Prince Harweda could hardly believe his eyes as he sprang
to the door. There stood his fairy god-mother, smiling and
with her hand reached out toward him. “Come, my god-child,”
said she gently, “we shall now go back to your father and mother .”
Great indeed was the rejoicing in the palace when Prince
Harweda was returned to them a sweet, loving boy, kind and
thoughtful to all about him. Many a struggle he had with
himself and many a conquest, but as time passed by he grew
to be a great and wise king, tenderly caring for all his people
and loved by them in return.
