Like many other renowned novels aimed at children, George MacDonald's
The Princess and the Goblin draws extensively from the folk tradition in his telling of the
tale. Many of the figures presented, such as the nurse and Curdie, have precedent in the tradition, but the grandmother in particular stands out. Archetypally, she is a
variant on the Old Man, though she bears the undeniable touch of the supernatural as
seen in common folklore - at times she is otherworldly and some of her actions and
abilities are of the sort frequently associated with witches.
The archetype of the Old Man - or, in this case, Old Woman - is one of the most
frequently encountered in folk tales, and slips seamlessly into The Princess and the
Goblin as Princess Irene's wise, kindly grandmother. In this guise, she provides
guidance for the young princess, advising patience with the disbelief of both Curdie and
Lootie, the nurse, and encourages Irene to be honest about what she herself has seen
despite. In the tradition of the Old Man figure, who often provides an item the
protagonist needs to progress on their journey, the grandmother gives the princess a
ring with a gossamer thread "too fine for [one] to see it" with instructions on how to use
it should Irene find herself in danger which proves instrumental to the outcome of the
story (pg. 119). Keeping with the archetype, though, the grandmother never intervenes
to take direct action, merely sets up the right conditions for the princess' actions, and is
largely content to remain in the attic and allow Irene to come to her. Within the
constraints set by previous appearances of Old Man figures in folk tales, there is a lot of
leeway for the grandmother to be more than just an archetype, though.
Although she displays a definite tangibility throughout the book, the grandmother is not wholly of this world. At times, she displays more characteristics
common to an apparition than any being of the corporeal world. Foremost, she is
perceptible for the most part only to Irene - when Curdie is brought to the attic room he
sees nothing more than a musty, abandoned room and hears no more than the cooing of
doves to answer Princess Irene's half of the conversation. The only exception is when
Curdie is injured and the grandmother tends him, and he falls asleep immediately after,
therefore perhaps only having seen her due to a receptive, half-conscious state. In
addition, she claims to be Irene's great-great-grandmother, yet no-one the princess asks
has heard of anyone, let alone an aged queen, living in the attic. The grandmother is in remarkably good health for a woman of her advanced years, living alone on nothing
more than pigeon's eggs. Apparitions, though, are still bound by the physical laws of
this world in any tale.
Witches, however, regularly have the fantastic attributed to them. The grandmother has a predominating number of qualities and
abilities associated with folklore's view of witchery, though without the taint of associations with a demonic source of power. Magic is apparent in the grandmother's every interaction with Irene. Although she is five generations removed from the princess, her "face [is] that of a woman of three-and-twenty" and she tells Irene outright that she is likely to live to see two thousand - hardly within the reach of a normal, mortal woman (pg. 12). Witches in folklore are frequently said to be able to alter their appearance and it is difficult to
find reference to any who simply died of old age (Folklore and Mythology Electronic Texts
website). The lamp illuminating the attic never goes out and it "does not happen above five times in a hundred years that anyone does see it" (pg.91). The way the walls dissolve to let the lamp shine through and light the princess' way home when she loses herself on the mountain further reinforces its supernatural origins. Also, anyone who ascends to the attic without belief, like Curdie, sees nothing more than a bare garret and the grandmother states that none may even find the room unless she wishes it - not unlike a smaller-scale glamour, cast to fool the eye and confuse the senses. Even the fire itself is sorcerous in nature - it has the appearance of a bunch of lovely scarlet roses and emits the heady scent of its common garden counterparts long with its warmth, yet the grandmother can hold a single blossom in her bare hand without coming to harm. While some of these displays are expansions on the descriptions of folklore, all are
within the scope of a witch's power.
Her introduction is not without ambivalence despite the lack of the traditional overt shadow of dark depravity. The spinning wheel alone which for the first half of the book the grandmother is forever working at conjures images of Sleeping Beauty's fateful encounter with the disguised fairy's spindle. The enigmatic nature of her very presence does not help swing first impressions toward the favourable, nor does her explanation that she's "been here ever since Irene] came here [herself]" (pg. 14). As grandmothers go, this one has all the appearances of a potential for danger, only the princess is too trustingly innocent to see it herself.
Yet, the grandmother does nothing but help Irene, and proves herself to be wholly benevolent as the story progresses. On the princess' second visit, she tends to Irene's swollen thumb with a sweet-smelling ointment, "[h]er touch … so pleasant and cool that it seem[s] to drive away the pain and heat" - far more than the doctor is able to do with his poultices (pg. 89). The injury is healed completely come morning, as is Curdie's wounded leg after similar treatment, a reference to the extensive knowledge of herblore and the healing arts witches are said to possess in the tales (Folklore and Witchcraft web page). In addition, the grandmother provides the ring and its invisible line of spun gossamer that enables Irene to rescue Curdie from the goblins and thus allows him to warn of the goblins' intents. Such an item could only come to be with the aid of magic, and only genuine concern and affection come to place it in the princess'
hands. Even more to the grandmother's credit, Princess Irene falls asleep in her attic home twice, providing ample opportunity for the working of vile mischief, yet the only action she takes is to ensure, albeit magically, that the princess is returned safely to her own bed without waking her. This is hardly in keeping with a wicked crone like Hansel and Gretel's nemesis, and seems more befitting a figure like Glinda from L. Frank Baum's
The Wizard of Oz.
As a novel recounted in the fairy tale tradition, The Princess and the Goblin succeeds beautifully. It employs the element of the Old Man archetype to aid and advise the princess, woven into an intriguing character with peculiar supernatural aspects drawn from the wider folk tradition. As such, the grandmother becomes a witch who is more than folklore would have one believe, an old woman not quite of this world, and exactly as she would have Princess Irene see her - as a grandmother.
Sources:
Folklore and Mythology Electronic Texts
http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/folktexts.html
Folklore and Witchcraft
http://shanmonster.bla-bla.com/witch/folklore/index.html
Keightly, Thomas The Fairy Mythology AMS Press, New York, NY, 1968
Briggs, K.M. The Personnel of Fairyland, Singing Tree Press, Detroit, Michigan,
1971