Tuhka-Triinu: A Cinderella Tale from Estonia

The following tale is one of the hundreds that appear in Cinderella Tales From Around the World. The story of Tuhka-Triinu (Ash-Katie), as given by Friedrich Reinhold Kreutzwald—a reknowned Estonian folklorist—in his Eestirahwa eunemuistefed jutud: Rahwa suust korjanud ja uleskirpitanud (1866). And, no, I don't know how to pronounce her name!

Tuhka-Triinu

Estonia

ONCE upon a time there lived a rich man with his wife and an only daughter. When the mother dies, she directs her daughter to plant a tree on her grave, where the birds can find food and shelter. The father marries a widow with two daughters, who ill-treat the motherless girl, declaring that she shall be their slave-girl. A magpie cries from the summit of the tree, “Poor child, poor child! why do you not go and complain to the rowan-tree? Ask for counsel, when your hard life will be lightened.”

She goes to the grave at night, and a voice asks her to whom she should appeal, and in whom she should trust, and she answers, “God.” Then the voice tells her to call the cock and hen to help her, when she has work to do which she cannot perform by herself.

When the king’s ball is announced, Cinderella has to dress her sisters, after which the eldest throws lentils into the ashes, telling her to pick them up; but this is done by the cock and hen. She is left at home weeping, and a voice tells her to go and shake the rowan-tree. When she had done so, a light appeared in the darkness, and she saw a woman sitting on the summit of the tree. She was an ell high, and clothed in golden raiment, and she held a small basket and a gold wand in her hands. She took a hen’s egg from her basket, which she turned into a coach; six mice formed the horses, a black beetle formed the coachman, and two speckled butterflies the footmen.

The little witch-maiden then dressed Tuhka-Triinu as magnificently as a Saxon lady. She then sent her to the ball, warning her to leave before the cock crows for the third time, as everything will then resume its original shape. On the second night Tuhka-Triinu took to flight, and lost one of her little gold shoes, which the prince found next morning. When it came to be tried on, Tuhka-Triinu’s sisters, who thought they had small feet, tugged and squeezed without success. But the shoe fitted Tuhka-Triinu. Her guardian again robed her magnificently, and she married the prince.

Source: Kirby, William Forsell, editor. The Hero of Esthonia and Other Studies in the Romantic Literature of that Country, Volume 2. London: John C. Nimmo, 1895.

The Three Sisters: A Greek Cinderella Tale

The following tale is one of the hundreds that appear in Cinderella Tales From Around the World. It is a short and much less sweet Cinderella tale from Greece. Greek Cinderellas often have mothers murdered by Cinderella's sisters. I've been seeing this mentioned in articles around the web and thought I would share an example of it here. The tale is also like a majority of Cinderella tales where she meets the prince at church instead of at a ball.

The Three Sisters

Greece

THERE were three girls sitting spinning with their mother, and they agreed that whosesoever thread broke first they should kill and eat. Their mother's thread broke, but they said, “Let us spare her for having carried us in her womb,” and went on spinning.

When the mother's thread broke a second time, they said, “Let us spare her for having suckled us from her breast.” But when the mother's thread broke a third time, she had to be killed. The two eldest killed her, cut her up, cooked her, and eat well of the flesh, but the youngest would not join them, and when they had finished she collected the bones and put them in a large earthenware jar. Every day for forty days she incensed them.

After forty days she went to the jar and found within it three dresses (one, the plain with its flowers; another, the sea with its fish; and the third, the heaven with its stars), and a pair of beautiful slippers and a splendid horse.

On Sunday she put on the first dress and went to church. There the king's son saw her and fell in love with her, but she ran away before he could catch her and speak to her.

So it was the next Sunday, when wearing the second dress she came to church again.

On the third Sunday she put on the third dress. As she was returning from church she stopped to let her horse drink, and one slipper fell into the drinking-trough. The prince, who was following her, stopped his horse too, and it was frightened at the slipper, and would not drink. So he saw the slipper and knew to whom it belonged, and went round to all the houses in the town trying to fit it.

The eldest sister had put the youngest under a basket, and on this the prince sat down to try the slipper on. It would not fit them, and he asked them if they had no other sister. They said, “No,” but the youngest took a pin from her hair and pricked him with it, and so he lifted up the basket to see what was under it.

When it was lifted, the eldest sister said, “She is a poor outcast, our servant, whom we put there that you might not see her.” But the slipper fitted her, and the prince recognised her, and they were married.

Source: Paton, W. R. “Folktales from the Ægean (Continued).” Folklore. Vol. 12, No. 2 (Jun. 1901). pp. 197-208. (From Cassabi.)

Portugal's Horse-Skin: Cannibalistic Cinderella?

"Horse-Skin" from Tales of Old Lusitania: From the Folk-Lore of Portugal by F. Adolpho Coelho and translated by Henriqueta Monteiro, offers us a Cinderella with a vague cannibalistic story. The wonder of stories across cultures? That while the sisters in the Greek tale are the cannibalistic villains, these are the self-sacrificing victims along with Cinderella.

Bonus: We get a full explanation of how Cinderella's persecution comes about, father's actions included. Although some variants offer some explanation for the father's absence (if he is alive), this one makes him fully culpable.

From my book, Cinderella Tales From Around the World:

THIS is the story of a wicked king, who was a widower and had three daughters.

Many years had elapsed since his queen died, and he began to feel lonely without a partner in life, and one who could occupy the vacant seat beside him on the throne, so he resolved to visit a certain Court where a princess lived, whom he admired, and to make an offer of marriage to her. The princess, who was selfish and only cared for her own comfort, asked the king before accepting his offer, what he intended to do with his daughters, as she did not want them about her in the palace. “If my daughters,” replied the king, “are a hindrance to our union, I can soon dispose of them, and send them where you will never see them or hear of them.”

On his return to the palace he said to his daughters, “Get ready at once to go with me to the Tower of Moncorvo, where I will show you what you have never seen before in your life.” The daughters, full of confidence in their father, and not suspecting any treachery, readily prepared to accompany him, and after travelling many leagues arrived at the celebrated tower. When the king had them safe in the castle, he said to his daughters, “Remain here, whilst I pay a short visit to a friend and worthy subject, who lives in this neighbourhood. On my return I will take you back to the palace.” The wicked king, who only made up this excuse to blind his daughters to his real intentions, fastened the great gates of the Tower as he went out, so that his daughters could not possibly escape. He supplied them with food every day until his marriage day, but after that he never concerned himself about them any more, but left them to their fate.

Hours passed, and days came and went, and still no succour arrived, and they began to be in a dreadful state, without a morsel of food or water to refresh them. And so it happened that one day, when they had given up all hopes of being relieved, and were nearly dead from starvation, the eldest of the princesses said to her sisters, “Why should we all starve? The best thing you two can do is to kill me and feed upon me as long as I afford you sustenance.” She had hardly said these words when she dropped down dead from want.

A few days after this sad event the surviving princesses were again short of food, and nothing was left them but to die. Then the second sister, remembering what the first one had so generously done, followed her example, and suggested that her younger sister should kill her for food: and when she had finished uttering the last words of her advice she also dropped down and died.

The poor young girl, now left alone in the large dreary castle, felt very disconsolate, and rent the air with her lamentations. But after a while, being of a courageous mind, she thought to herself that weeping was no remedy for her woes, and that she must devise some means of escape from her prison before she became faint again with want.

The story goes on to be a more traditional Cinderella tale at this point, predominantly an ATU 510B although the beginning is a blend of 510A and B with the wicked stepmother and an interesting twist on the exile.

And the big question for the reader to decide? Did she or didn't she partake? The text implies yes more than no but to preserve the moral judgment of the reader, it is left to you to decide.

And while we're here, I must wave at Valerie and Brian for helping me procure this book so I didn't have to translate the tale myself! I wanted to include it rather desperately and they made it happen.

Greek Cinderella and Her Cannibal Sisters

Ready for some more Cinderellas? How about some Cinderellas with a hefty dose of cannabalism? I mentioned earlier that Cinderella is guilty of many vices in her many variants, but cannibalism, not. Although even that is up for debate and personal choice as I will show with another tale tomorrow--stay tuned!

But these tales do not spread beyond Greece and Cyprus in this form although many variants have been found in Greece itself. They greatly resemble other 510A tales, as well as ATU 511 One Eye, Two Eyes, Three Eyes in which an animal magical helper is cooked by the (step)mother and the Cinderella character refuses to partake of the meat, often honoring the bones of the beloved animal. These Greek tales, however, skip the animal helper--who is usually interpreted as the mother's spirit or mother reincarnated--but sticks with the mother herself. How about psycho-analyzing this tale to your heart's content? Some great papers here...

Another interesting twist in these tales is that the sisters are the villains here. The majority of Cinderellas in 510A and 511 have a mother or stepmother as the primary villain while the sisters are merely her lackeys. Here they are the villains, front and center.

From "The Three Sisters" (from Cassabi, Greece) in my book, Cinderella Tales From Around the World:

THERE were three girls sitting spinning with their mother, and they agreed that whosesoever thread broke first they should kill and eat. Their mother's thread broke, but they said, “Let us spare her for having carried us in her womb,” and went on spinning.

When the mother's thread broke a second time, they said, “Let us spare her for having suckled us from her breast.” But when the mother's thread broke a third time, she had to be killed. The two eldest killed her, cut her up, cooked her, and eat well of the flesh, but the youngest would not join them, and when they had finished she collected the bones and put them in a large earthenware jar. Every day for forty days she incensed them.

And from "Little Saddleslut" (from Epeiros, Greece):

THERE were once three sisters spinning flax, and they said, “Whosever spindle falls, let us kill her and eat her.”

The mother’s spindle fell, and they left her alone.

Again they sat down to spin, and again the mother’s spindle fell, and again and yet again.

“Ah, well!” said they, “let us eat her now!”

“No!” said the youngest, “do not eat her; eat me, if flesh you will have.”

But they would not; and two of them killed their mother and cooked her for eating.

When they had sat down to make a meal of her, they said to the youngest, “Come and eat too!”

But she refused, and sat down on a saddle which the fowls were covering with filth, and wept, and upbraided them.

Many a time they said to her, “Come and eat!” but she would not; and when they had done eating, they all went away.

And from "Saddleslut" (from Zagora, Greece):

THERE was once a mother with three daughters, and they went to spin on the terrace, and the mother’s spindle fell twice, and they said, “We will excuse her.” It fell again, and they made a cow of her and slew her. And when they were killing her, she said to Kálo, the youngest, “Don’t you eat, but bury my bones in the barn, and burn incense over them every evening; and at Easter uncover them.”

The other two, Stamáto and Máro, put her under the packsaddle, and called her “Saddleslut.” When Easter came round, the two went to church, and Saddleslut unburied the bones and found a thousand and two treasures. Then she also adorned herself and went to church, and threw down coins, and fled, and went and sat on the packsaddle. The others came home, and said to her, “A lady came and scattered gold, and you, to your loss, were not there.”

And finally, "The Story of Cinderella" from (from Cyprus):

ONCE upon a time, my lady, there was an old woman who had three daughters. Well [the two eldest], because the mother loved the youngest best, were jealous, and sought some pretext for killing their mother. They agreed to go up on a high terrace with their mother, and take their spindles, and that whoever should first let her thread break they would eat. Of course the mother being old and feeble, her thread would be sure to break. So they took their spindles and went up to the terrace. The poor old woman, her hands were weak, and she broke her thread once.

“Ah, dear mother mine,” said they, “we will eat thee!”

Then says she to them, “Ai, my daughters, forgive me this time, and if it breaks again, eat me.”

Then they began again, and let down their spindles, and again her thread broke.

“Ah, dear mother mine,” they cry, “we will eat thee!”

“Ai, my daughters, forgive me also this time, and if it breaks a third time, then eat me!”

So they began again, and let down their spindles, and again hers broke.

“Ai, we can’t let you off again, we shall eat you!” And they took their poor mother and began to make ready to kill her. When she saw that they were really going to kill her, she called her youngest daughter, and said to her, “Come, my daughter, and let me counsel thee! Take my blessing,” she said, “for they are about to kill and eat me; all the bones that fall do thou gather and put them in a jar, and keep them with care. Watch them and smoke them [with incense] for forty days and nights and go not forth from the chamber where they are; and on the fortieth day,” she said, “open it [the jar], and see what they have become.”

“Gladly,” she replied, and began to weep for her mother.

“Don’t weep, my daughter,” said she, “for what can you do now that your sisters are determined?”

They seized and slew their mother, and set to and cooked her, and began to eat.

“Come, girl, and eat thou too; thou wilt see what good food it is—our mother.”

“No, my girl, God does not permit me to eat of my mother!” and she gathered up the bones wherever she found them, and placed them in a jar without being observed. When they had finished eating and were satisfied, they rose. What did she do now? She took and lighted a great fire and sat day and night to watch them, and smoked them day and night.

I think I can guarantee that this Greek Cinderella will never, ever, ever be interpreted into a picture book for children!

And who thought Cinderella was boring?

Unhappy Ending Cinderella: Denmark's The Two Princesses

Sorry I have been absent the last few days. And, no, not from illness. Just plain busyness and plain old being overwhelmed. I am trying to get back to a somewhat normal routine, but we will see. I obviously caught up with myself on Cinderella entries, but there's always more if I can just find time to think!

For today, I wanted to share one of the Cinderellas with an unhappy ending. The tale, The Two Princesses (De to Kongedættre), comes from Denmark and was summarized by Marian Roalfe Cox in a supplement to her book she published in Folklore journal in 1907, from M. Winther's Danske Folkeventyr. The following is a summary of the tale edited from Cox's article.

While I included many Cinderella summaries in the collection, I edited each one from the tabulation format she used to a more narrative style, replacing articles (especially "the") and fixing awkward grammar. The summaries lose some of the details of the original narrative--Andrew Lang expressed his dissatisfaction with them--but they are often quite sufficient for getting the flavor of the tale and its key elements. And since the task of trying to translate each of the roughly 200 tales that have no English translation already would have taken years of work with minimal benefit, the summaries are beautiful!

From my book, Cinderella Tales From Around the World:

A KING has two daughters. The elder is wicked and ugly while the younger is beautiful and good. The elder daughter is beloved and lives with the king in the most gorgeous rooms of the palace. The heroine lives with the servants and shares their work.

A neighbouring king arranges a festival to last several days. The elder daughter attends it with the father. The heroine is left in the kitchen. She sits crying in the twilight in her small room. Suddenly, a strange little man appears and offers to fulfil a wish for her. The heroine wishes to see the ball where the father and the sister are. She may go, she is told, on the condition that she returns before midnight.

The man vanishes, and the heroine stands in costly dress, wearing heavy gold chains and a crown of diamonds. At her door is a magnificent coach with four snow-white horses whose golden manes reach the ground. The heroine enters the coach and soon finds herself at the palace, admired by all, and unrecognised by her father and sister. As twelve o’clock strikes, she mounts the coach and is soon back in her shabby clothes in her dark room.

The next day the father and sister talk incessantly of the fair, unknown princess. In the evening they go to the festival, leaving the heroine hard at work. Seeing a red glare in the sky from the illuminated palace, the heroine longs to go. Immediately she is beautifully and magnificently dressed. This time her horses are yellow with jet-black plaited manes. At the ball she is admired and courted beyond measure. As the clock strikes midnight, she leaves in the midst of a dance.

On the third evening, a heavy gale blows. She wears a triple crown of sparkling diamonds. Her coach is drawn by eight flame-coloured horses with manes like shining gold. Everyone wants to dance with her. She stays beyond her given time and leaves in her black working dress, only to find outside, instead of a coach, an old wheelbarrow drawn by four small mice. She weeps bitterly over her forgetfulness and in the future passes her days as a common servant in her father’s kitchen.

As you read, this particular tale is also unusual in that the 510A tale has a father and sister who persecute the heroine--persecuting fathers are usually reserved for 510B tales. Not a mother, stepmother or multiple sisters in sight. We also have an almost Rumpelstiltskin type of magical helper--this is less unusual actually, but still rare enough--although no bargains are made. Virtue is its own reward--to a point!

And then the unhappy ending is fascinating. If you have always wondered what would have happened if Cinderella didn't leave on time, well, here's your answer. She wasn't sufficiently obedient and thus here is her punishment--lifelong servitude!

Finally, this tale was recorded circa 1825 before the full fury of folklore collection grew during the 1800s. The Perrault influence is there, but it's still a tale all its own.

Cinderella Tales: The Golden Bull, or, The Crafty Princess

First of all, yesterday's post was edited into oblivion by accident--that's what I get for not writing it in Word first. It was about the Grimms and more thoughts on Perrault. I am sure it was one of the best and most profound posts I have ever written. Not that I can ever prove that to you! Actually, I am sad because I did think a few deeper thoughts than usual, but I will try to recreate for a later post. For now, I'm skipping Grimms and sharing The Golden Bull today. It mostly predates the brothers anyway.

From my book, Cinderella Tales From Around the World:

Another tale, The Golden Bull, or, The Crafty Princess: In Four Parts, an ATU 510B tale, was popular during the 18th and early 19th centuries with numerous chapbook editions published in Great Britain and Scotland as well as in North America. A version of this last tale is not included in this collection, but can be found in internet databases. One edition, dated 1750, has the following extended description:

The Golden Bull; or, The Crafty Princess, in four parts.—1. How a king courted his own daughter for marriage, threatning her with death if she would not consent to be his wife. 2. The lady's craftiness to be convey'd over sea in a golden bull to the prince she loved. 3. How her arrival and love came to be made known to the young prince. 4. How her death was contrived by three ladies in her lover's absence: how she was preserved, and soon after married to the young prince: with other remarkable accidents that happened.

The multiple editions of this tale and their publication dates provide one of the illustrative points on how ATU 510B Donkeyskin and its variants virtually disappeared in English during the latter 19th century. The Victorian era suppressed the incest themes in these tales and then they began to lose momentum in collections, too. The tale is still well known in France, but the average English speaking person on the street would just look at you funny if you asked them about Donkeyskin or any of the other titles with the incest element. "That's not a fairy tale I've ever heard of," they'd say.

But the tale was relatively well-known prior to then, even in North America. The abundance of chapbook editions helps to convey that. It wouldn't be printed and bought so often if it wasn't wanted by the reading public. A simple search of WorldCat, for example, shows many listings with several estimated publication dates as well as various cities of publication around the U.K. and in the U.S. It's around until the early 1800s and then poof, gone! And when they do appear, the marriage demands from the fathers are edited.

Cinderella, Perrault, Glass Slippers, Carriages, Etc.

It's time! I'm done with early Cinderellas! Time for a little more discussion of Perrault so we can somewhat forget about him again for a while.  Because after this--and perhaps a quick side trip to the Grimms--we can start discussing the quirky, strange, unusual, sad and entertaining Cinderellas. If I can remember them all....

From my book, Cinderella Tales From Around the World:

Charles Perrault’s influence over the popularity of Cinderella cannot be overstated. His “Cendrillon; ou, La petite pantfoufle de verre,” commonly known as Cinderella in English, is the most recognized version of Cinderella in the modern world. His fairy godmother, pumpkin carriage, and glass slippers have inspired countless renditions of the tale in print, theatre, music, and art since its publication. His version of ATU 510B Donkeyskin is not as well known but it, too, is one of the dominant versions of that tale type and remains popular in France today although its incest theme has caused it to be often suppressed in other countries.

While we can only conjecture about which oral and literary versions of Cinderella inspired Perrault, there is no doubt he left his literary stamp on the tale when he published it for the first time in Histoires ou contes du temps passé in 1697. Perrault, influenced by the French salons and the fairy tale writers of the late seventeenth century, added descriptive flourishes, romance, and humor to the story.

While the events in his tale are not unique, Perrault most likely invented the glass slipper—there is no trace of it before his version—perhaps as an ironic device since it is a fragile thing and perhaps as simply genius creative license for it has become the iconic symbol of the fairy tale, even surpassing Perrault’s transformed pumpkin carriage as shorthand for the story. The glass slipper has been the cause of much speculation and debate over the years, including a prevalent, albeit erroneous theory, that the glass was a mistake, a confusion between the French verre (glass) and vair (squirrel fur), since fur slippers are not as fantastical, but altogether realistic. In 1841, Honoré de Balzac popularized, perhaps even created the theory, and it has remained popular ever since despite many inherent issues within it, such as its dismissal of Perrault’s own adept literacy. The theory also negates Perrault’s interest in the fantastic and magical, discounting his brilliant creativity. Although the translation error theory has been dismissed by scholars since the 19th century, it continues to appear in popular media all too often today.

Perhaps the most regrettable element of Perrault’s Cinderella is her level of passivity. The known Cinderellas that preceded her were less passive, as are most of the lesser known variants from all around Europe which postdate her. His Cinderella is rewarded for practicing goodness, obedience, and patience by primarily waiting to be rescued, often in tears. She does little else to help herself. Her character has served as a rallying point for modern audiences who want to label fairy tales as anti-feminist or teaching outdated values for women. And yet the majority rules, so Cinderella, in this iteration, remains the most popular when there are literally hundreds of others to choose instead.

Perrault’s fairy godmother is also his own interpretation of the magic helper, not a unique invention, but another element dosed with his storytelling flair, one certainly rounded out by the French literary salons he frequented, especially that of his niece Marie-Jeanne L’Héritier de Villandon and her friends, including Marie Catherine d’Aulnoy. Both of these women wrote tales with Cinderella motifs, “The Discreet Princess; or the Adventures of Finette” and “Finette Cendron.” Since it diverges further from Cinderella traditions and is overlong, L’Héritier’s story is not included in this collection, but d’Aulnoy’s Finette Cendron is. Both tales can also be found in Beauties, Beasts and Enchantments edited by Jack Zipes (1989). All of these tales were originally published within a few years of each other, but their exact timelines and the extent of the collaborations between the authors are unknown. However, their existence illustrates the popularity of the Cinderella motifs during this period in history.

And really, it is quite simply stunning how much Perrault's version has defined Cinderella in popular culture for decades, if not centuries. His usages are iconic in our culture. Really have to credit him for capturing the imagination of countless people across generations and cultures, don't we?

Early Cinderellas: King Leir and Cordelia

From my book, Cinderella Tales From Around the World:

The story of King Leir and his daughter Cordelia found in Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia Regum Britanniae (History of the Kings of Britain), circa 1136, is one of the earliest recorded versions of a Cinderella variant in the British Isles. A translation of Monmouth is available in this collection.

The story served as inspiration for William Shakespeare’s play, King Lear, written around 1603-1606. The story is an ATU 510B and ATU 923 Love Like Salt variant. Although Shakespeare’s play is not included in this anthology, prose retellings of the play are offered instead.

Perhaps thanks to the antiquity of the King Lear story and the Shakespearean influence, the tales of Cap o’ Rushes and Catskin, both ATU 510B, are popular tales in the British Isles with numerous variants recorded.

That date, if you accept Cordelia as a Cinderella, makes the tale one of the earliest European versions, predating the ones I have discussed over the last several days from other countries. It is interesting to me just how popular the 510B Cinderellas are in the U.K. with many variants recorded during the 19th century. From 1136 to 1606 to the 19th century, that is a long-lived tale. Yes, Shakespeare helped it along, but it appears to have had a pretty good life of its own through the many variants although we can only speculate.

And while we are here today with early English Cinderellas, I can also highly recommend The Adventure of English on DVD. I watched the first few episodes of this one night, begging my family's indulgence, while I was working on Cinderella, coincidentally while I was working on the English versions of the tale. Geoffrey of Monmouth appears in the history and it was fascinating to watch  along with everything else. There isn't a folklore slant to the series, but it fits so well with much of my reading and research that my brain went several directions. Language, particularly English, is just so fascinating and this well done series sells it as such. And my family, groaning when we started it, was all still awake a few hours later and we had a lively discussion of what we had seen. I took courses on the topic in college but this was an interesting refresher with new material well presented to me, too. Loved it actually! I had purchased it on whim during a sale and don't regret the purchase at all.

Early Cinderellas: Martin Montanus

From my book, Cinderella Tales From Around the World:

One of the earliest known Cinderellas in Germany appears as “Ein schöne history von einer frawen mitt zweyen kindlin” in Gartengesellschaft by Martin Montanus in 1560. Gartengesellschaft is a collection of tales, many very bawdy, which has not been translated fully into English. Unfortunately, a translation of the tale was not available for this collection. The tale is typed as ATU 511.

And that's still just about all I know about this tale. I didn't readily find a usable edition of it--my German is not that reliable for something this old with its particular vernacular either. I'm a Romance languages gal despite the German name bestowed by my heritage. (Someday ask me about my aborted attempt at taking German during my last semester as an undergrad. The short version is that dropping German started a chain of events that found me married to John. Since I am celebrating 16 years with him this month, I can't regret the German class too much! And my marriage to him is one reason why SurLaLune Fairy Tales exists, too, so neither can you, dear readers.)

I admit, I am still curious about this tale, mostly because of what I did read in English translation about Montanus, especially in this article, Martin Montanus as Entertainer and Social Critic by Albrecht Classen, available online. One tale in particular--not a Cinderella!--in the article is fascinating, to me at least, but be warned it may be offensive to some readers. And if it is, do not read the full article about Montanus, for this tale is only scatological, not sexual, like many of his others. But here's some unusual reading for you:

In another story Montanus combines the epistemological with the scatological, which results in rather grotesque laughter, but this in turn reveals a fundamental truth about human language. In "Ein fraw fragt ihren man, wie lieb er sie hett" (no. 54) the wife of a nobleman tortures him day and night with the question how much he is in love with her. Finally, when he has gotten tired of her incessant badgering, he replies that he loves her as much as a "guot oder haimlich scheyssen" ["a good or secret emptying of the bowels"] (304). For her, of course, entirely baffled by this strange comment, this amounts to a severe insult, and she feels deeply saddened and also angry with him. One day, however, while they are spending time together exchanging tenderness despite her feeling of rejection, she needs to go to the bathroom, which he tries to prevent. He holds her back for such a long time that she finally protests and breaks out in anger: "Ey lieber, lasst mich doch gehn! Ich muoss (mit gunst zuomelden) scheyssen" ["Now, my dear, let me go, I have (with your permission) to shit"] (304).20 This is exactly the situation that he had been looking for in order to explain to her what he meant by his original comment. He points out to her that the use of the bathroom is an existential need of all people. In analogy, and this must have been the moment when the audience broke out in laughter, he cannot live without her just like he cannot live without emptying his bowels -- both fundamental conditions for him, hence also for her: "als lieb dir solches ist, als lieb hab ich dich" ["as much as you love it, so much do I love you"] (304). In the epimythion we are then told that this simile opened her eyes, and from then on she loved him as much as he loved her.

The humor is obviously based on some scatological elements, but the difference from Till Eulenspiegel with its extraordinary focus on feces in a plethora of ever-changing contexts and situations cannot be overlooked. In contrast, Montanus refers to the basic needs in human life without exploiting the possibility of transgressing social and ethical norms by way of scatology. However, insofar as the audience would have immediately understood what imagery he has the husband play on in order to explain his mysterious statement, they can all join in the laughter because it goes hand in hand with an epistemological illumination: "Da erkant die fraw erst..." ["Only then did the woman realize..."] (304). The narrative does not imply any clear strategy to satirize or to ridicule the woman because of her gender. On the contrary, the couple enjoys a happy, love-filled marriage in which both respect and cherish each other, except that she is excessively concerned with getting explicit confirmation of his love for her, perhaps because of her own insecurity, but certainly because she does not understand how to trust his words.

Although he finally describes his love for her in scatological terms, he truly loves her, as she grasps only at the end, which specifically points us into the direction of language in its problematic nature, so easily subject to misunderstanding. The minor marital conflict finds its lasting solution at the end once both have discovered ways to communicate with each other in a more complex manner, no longer needing to explain every little detail or aspect of their emotions. The laughter supports, of course, the witty husband and his sophisticated though somewhat scatological language, but the wife is not necessarily a victim; instead the laughter also evokes sympathy and support for a good marriage where the mutual understanding is so strong that further inquiries are no longer necessary.

And doesn't that make you curious about his Cinderella? The above described tale even has a whiff of Love Like Salt Cinderellas, but it isn't a Cinderella tale, obviously. Can't you just imagine such a Cinderella tale though? "Father, I need your love like I need to poo." He is offended--that makes more sense to be offended by than a salt reference. She is banished and finds her prince to marry. Then they fail to have port-a-potties around when he attends her wedding after adding some laxatives especially to his food. A lesson never to be forgotten, to be sure!

Have Iamused you enough? Are these Cinderella blog posts still boring you?

Anyway, I'm sure I (or we) can learn more about Montanus from several of the wonderful German fairy tale scholars out there, but when the Cinderella book was already overfull, I decided to put this tale on the backburner and let it simmer. Until today! Even if my brain was obviously creating lively scenarios late at night when I was punchy and reading this stuff.

And in the end, Montanus's Cinderella is probably the most boring tale in his collection. But I don't know--yet!

Early Cinderella: Basile's Il Pentamerone

From my book, Cinderella Tales From Around the World:

Lo cunto de li cunti, overo Lo trattenemiento de ‘peccerille (The Tale of Tales, or Entertainment for Little Ones), also familiarly known as Il Pentamerone, by Giambattista Basile was first published posthumously in 1634-6. The book is a collection of fifty tales told within a framework story. Many of the tales are early literary versions of popular fairy tales, two of which are part of the Cinderella Cycle, namely The Cat Cinderella (Day 1, Tale 6) and The She Bear (Day 2, Tale 6). The first is ATU 510A and the second is ATU 510B. Basile’s entire work has been rarely translated into English, but early translations of both tales are included in this collection. The Cat Cinderella is notable for its murderous, conniving Cinderella, a far cry from the virtuous innocent we know so well. For further reading and perhaps the most authoritative English translations, consult Nancy Canepa’s Giambattista Basile's “The Tale of Tales, or Entertainment for Little Ones” (2007). Despite the title’s implications, the book was not intended for a child audience but rather conveyed the “low class” or folkloric entertainment the tales emulated. While not as ribald as Straparola, much of the content would not be considered suitable for a modern children’s audience.

Yes, these tales are on the web--I was among the first people to put them there. They are on SurLaLune, and they are fascinating. And I highly recommend Canepa's translation with her notes and current scholarship.

Here we have Cinderella the Murderess. A naive one, but a murderess all the same. It's hard to be as sympathetic with her when she is the author of her own misery.

From Cenerentota or The Cat Cinderella:

"Well then," answered the governess, "open your ears and listen, and you will get bread as white as the flowers. When your father goes out, ask your stepmother to give you one of the old dresses that are in the large chest in the closet, in order to save the one you have on. Then she, who would like of all things to see you go in rags and tatters, will open the chest, and say, 'Hold up the lid !' and whilst you are holding it up, and she is rummaging about inside, let it fall with a bang, so as to break her neck. When this is done, as you know well enough that your father would even coin false money to please you, do you entreat him when he is caressing you to take me to wife; for then, bless your stars--you shall be the mistress of my life."

Then Zezolla heard this, every hour seemed to her a thousand years until she had done all that her governess had advised; and as soon as the mourning for the stepmother's death was ended, she began to feel her father's pulse, and to entreat him to marry the governess. At first the prince took it as a joke, but Zezolla went on shooting so long past the mark, that at length she hit it, and he gave way to her entreaties. So he took Carmosina (that was the name of the governess) to wife, and gave a great feast at the wedding.

Early Cinderella: Doralice in Italy

More of you weren't excited about Pernette yesterday? Oh well. I entertained John with her story as my enthusiasm for her was reawakened at least. Love that tale. But time for another one today...

From my book, Cinderella Tales From Around the World:

Le piacevoli notti, most often translated as The Facetious Nights or The Pleasant Nights, by Giovanni Francesco Straparola, was first published in two parts in 1550 and 1553. Little is known about Straparola—most likely not his real surname—but he is often called the “father (or godfather) of the literary fairy tale” since his Le piacevoli notti contains several tales that are precursors to later literary fairy tales. This is open to debate but nevertheless his work is an important click on any timeline of fairy tale history, for whoever the author and whatever his sources and methods, Le piacevoli notti gathers tales presented under the conceit that they were shared at a thirteen day festival in Venice, similar to the framing conceit of many collections around this era from The Decameron to The Canterbury Tales. They range widely in subject and style with many ribald and extremely violent elements. It has rarely been translated into English with one of the earliest English translators, W. G. Waters, translating some parts into French instead of English to protect the sensibilities of his readers.

The fourth tale of the first night is not titled, none of the tales are, but is familiarly known as either “Doralice,” “Tebaldo,” or “Doralice and Tebaldo.” Doralice, the heroine, has an incestuous father and the tale is considered an ATU 510B tale. It can also be further categorized as the less common ATU 510B* The Princess in the Chest. Waters’ translation of the tale appears in this collection under the title of Doralice and was fortunately considered tame enough to be rendered completely into English. Another excellent translation, “Doralice and Her Incestuous Father, Tebaldo,” with extensive commentary and resources can be found in The Pleasant Nights, Volume 1 by Giovan Francesco Straparola edited by Donald Beecher (2012). Beecher includes an overview of the possible inspirations for Doralice, as well as the tales that followed it, many of which are included in the present collection.

While we're here, I can rave about the Don Beecher volumes mentioned above: The Pleasant Nights: Volume 1 (Lorenzo Da Ponte Italian Library - The Pleasant Nights) and The Pleasant Nights: Volume 2 (Lorenzo Da Ponte Italian Library - The Pleasant Nights). They were my SurLaLune splurge last year and I don't regret the purchase at all. (They're academically priced, alas!)

The translation in these is based upon Waters (which you can find on SurLaLune) but updated and corrected. And the notes! Lovely, lovely notes and commentary on the tales. Worth the price of admission. I am consulting this regularly during my research. I only wish I had had these years ago.