The Frog Prince and the Answer to Everything

Kristen Rudd | April 27, 2020

Once upon a time, there was a princess who was so beautiful that even the sun, who saw everything, was bemused by her beauty every time he shone down upon her. 

On hot days, she liked to go sit near a cool well on the edge of a dark wood by the castle, take out her favorite plaything—a golden ball—and pass time by throwing it in the air and catching it again. One day, the golden ball dropped and fell into the well instead of into the girl’s hands. 

The well was deep, deeper than the princess could fathom, and her golden ball was lost forever. She began to cry and cry (which is also a legitimate way to pass time).

She heard a voice asking what was wrong and saw a frog poking his ugly head out of the water. The frog told the girl he could retrieve her beloved ball and asked what she would give him in exchange. She offered him anything she had to give—anything at all. (Perhaps if the princess had read Ovid, she would know better than to make such a foolish, open-ended promise.) 

The frog asked her to love him, have him as her companion, let him sit by her at table, eating from her plate and drinking from her cup, and let him sleep in her bed. The princess immediately promised all, thinking to herself that there was no way he could possibly do those things. A frog as her companion? Indeed!

Deal made, the frog dove under the water and shortly returned with her ball. Overjoyed, the princess immediately ran off toward the castle. The forgotten frog croaked vainly after her.

The next day, while the princess was at table, there was a knock at the door and a voice crying, “Youngest King’s daughter, let me in!” The princess got up to see who was at the door. When she opened it and saw the frog, she slammed the door shut and ran back to her seat, quite shaken.

When her father, the king, saw the look on his daughter’s face, he asked her what she was so afraid of. “Is there a giant standing at the door ready to carry you away?” he asked.

No, worse—a frog. At least there are precedents for giants at the door. She told her father the story, and the knocking came again, the frog calling to her through the door.

The king told her that if she had promised these things to the frog, then she must follow through on her promises, and he ordered her to let the frog in. Reluctantly, she did. The frog followed her to the table where she refused to let him up until the king ordered her to follow through on her promises. Unwillingly, she pushed her plate near the frog so he could eat, which he did with gusto. The princess had lost her appetite.

After eating, the frog demanded to be taken to her room so he could sleep. She balked once again, until the king ordered her to follow through on her promises. Picking up the frog between her forefinger and thumb, she carried him to her room and unceremoniously dumped him in a corner. After the princess had crawled into her pretty, clean sheets to go to sleep, the frog told her that if she didn’t allow him to sleep in her bed—as she had promised—he would tell her father. 

The princess could handle admitting the frog to the castle, lifting him up on the table, letting him eat from her plate, and even carrying him to her room…but this? This was the last straw. Enraged, she picked him up and threw him with all her might against the wall, yelling at the horrid frog to finally be quiet.

Some of you didn’t see that coming, did you? You thought there was going to be a kiss.

Well, we all know what happened next. The frog was no longer a frog but a handsome, young prince with beautiful, kind eyes. The king consented to the princess marrying this prince. The story is silent as to whether the prince slept in her bed with her that first night. This is a children’s story, people. But the prince told her how he had been bound by a witch’s spells, how the princess was the only one who could have released him, and how they would travel together and return to his father’s kingdom. 

A carriage showed up with eight white horses to whisk the young couple away. Then things got weirder for the rest of the story, with the prince’s faithful servant Henry and some iron bands wrapped around Henry’s heart, but we won’t get into that…and they lived happily ever after.

Now, who is this story about? You might be tempted to tell me it’s the princess. It’s not. It’s about the frog prince. We have a few clues. The first is the title. This is “The Frog Prince,” not “The Spoiled, Deceitful, Murderous Princess.” A second clue is that once the carriage arrives, the princess is no longer featured in the story at all. The entire exchange from the denouement to the end is solely between the prince and his servant Henry. 

So if the frog prince is our protagonist, the second question we come to is this: what does he want? He wants what every one of us wants—whether we know it or not—both in this modern age and every age before: He wants to be human, and he wants to go home to his father’s kingdom. In his current, broken state as a frog, he can’t do this. He is in need of a transformation.

Now, let’s talk about this princess. For she is all of us. The princess may have saved the prince, but the frog saves the princess. She, too, is in need of transformation. Let’s go back to the beginning of the story and take a look at where we find this princess and see what she is doing.

First, she’s young and beautiful, and everyone knows it. She has been left to her own devices. She is isolated and alone; she has no community surrounding her, and no one is by her side. She doesn’t have meaningful work or pastimes. She left the safety of the castle and is sitting by a well at the edge of a dark wood. 

Now, if you’re familiar with fairy tales, you’ll understand why this is significant. Dark woods are dangerous, forbidden places. Red Riding Hood knows there are wolves in dark woods. Hansel and Gretel know there are witches and enchanted houses made of candy to ensnare children in dark woods. Rapunzel knows there are towers where young girls are sequestered away from society in dark woods. Even Dante found himself lost in a dark wood being chased by three beasts and ended up descending into the mouth of Hell itself. 

The princess places herself on the edge of this danger. She is toying with the forbidden. She gets as close as she can, without crossing, to what has the power to destroy her. This is dangerous, dangerous ground. 

While at the edge of this temptation, she is focused entirely on her own mind-numbing entertainment. When she loses her ball, without something to entertain her, she sinks into despair. She doesn’t show wisdom—tossing a ball up in the air at the edge of a deep well is not wise. What on earth does she think is going to happen?

And that’s part of the point—she doesn’t think. She isn’t thinking about the consequences. She is possibly not even aware that they exist. At this intersection of danger—the forbidden places, the empty entertainment, and the resulting despair—a frog shows up. He is her salvation, and she finds her salvation repulsive. She has not been accustomed to recognize what is Good. It doesn’t look how she expects.

Once again demonstrating her foolishness, the princess offers the frog anything he wants without knowing what he would ask for. When he names it, she makes another promise—an empty promise—to him. In order to get what she wants, she simply lies. The one bright spot in this exchange is that when the frog keeps his end of the deal, the result sends the princess running back to the castle, running back to where she belongs. 

When the frog shows up at the castle, the king demands that she keep her promise and see it through. When she hesitates, he has to do this three times. She is in need of external sources of strength in order to do what is right. She knows her duty, but she has no desire from within herself to perform it. 

In the princess’s quarters, when the frog reminds her once more of her duty and threatens to bring in the enforcer, she switches to full, outright rebellion. She will not do that which she should, that which she promised, that which she knows is right. She resorts to violence (the true answer to everything) and chooses to kill the frog instead. The frog is blameless, and it is the princess’s sin that will kill him. 

The frog, for his part, knows this needs to happen. There’s a prince inside—a son of a king— who understands the real situation and what is at stake. No kiss will solve this problem. Only death can. And after his death, the frog—now turned prince—makes this unworthy princess his bride.

Is this not the mark of the modern age? We place ourselves outside proper boundaries, toying with the forbidden. We isolate ourselves and entertain ourselves into oblivion, despite the fact that the entertainment is worthless and fleeting. We spiral into despair. We are self-seeking liars, not caring whom we hurt. Our society has declared anything we want to be boundless. So long as we want a thing, we should seek it and have it, no matter the outcome. Consequences are for other people. 

We fight our duty, declaring it disgusting. We don’t have trained emotions and are satisfied with base things. We don’t like being reminded of that which is Good. We need external forces to do what is right, and we become rebellious and angry when we don’t get our way. Our hearts are both deadened and full of hatred. 

The solution? The solution is the same solution it’s been since the dawn of time:

Violence. Death. 

Our frog prince knows this. Red Riding Hood knows this. Hansel and Gretel know this. Odysseus knows this. Aslan knows this. There is evil in the world—in the dark wood—and if we look closely, we will also find it within our very hearts. We need to be saved. 

The only solution to our problems is the violence of the cross, where the true son of the true king allowed our sins to be the means of his sacrifice in order to save us. 

What do we all want? We want to be human. And we want to go home—home to our father’s kingdom. 

Kristen Rudd lives in Cary, NC and is a homeschool mom by day. By night, she’s exhausted. She is the founder of Piedmont Classical Forum, #ThisIsEpic, #everydayOvid, and #100daysofDante. Kristen is a CiRCE Institute certified Master Teacher and speaks and teaches classes on both literature and writing through kristenrudd.com. In her spare time (ha!), she lifts weights, eats tacos, and defends Dido, Queen of Carthage, to anyone who dares smack-talk her, may her memory be eternal.