Hildur the Fairy Queen

Here's an Icelandic version of the Twelve Dancing Princesses tale; this one is a slightly morbid tale set at Christmastime!

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Once there was a farmer who settled in the mountains. He had a housekeeper named Hildur who kept to herself but performed her duties well and was kind. Though the farmer was kind as well, he had trouble keeping shepherds, because one after another, they were all found dead in bed on Christmas morning. Hildur did not go to the Christmas mass like everyone else, but stayed at home to tend to her duties and prepare for the Christmas feast.

Finally the farmer decided not to employ any more shepherds, until a man came to him and offered his services for the winter. The farmer protested that those who had filled that same position met with a sad fate, but the man insisted he would still care for the sheep.

So he stayed with the farmer that winter, although on Christmas Eve thought it wise to stay awake. During the night, he saw Hildur approach him. He pretended to be asleep and felt her put a magic bridle in his mouth. She mounted his back and they rode to a chasm in the earth. There she dismounted; in order to follow her the shepherd rubbed his head against a stone until the magic bridle came off.

He followed Hildur, and noticed she did not act like the same housekeeper he knew. He took a magic stone out of his pocket that would make him invisible as long as he held it, and kept close behind her.

Finally they reached a great palace, where a great crowd of people came to meet her and a man dressed in purple in gold came to meet her, calling her his wife. The crowds called her their queen and treated her with respect. Two children ran into her arms and called her Mother. Hildur was given royal attire and together with her king sat down at a big feast, which was followed with dancing. But Hildur and the king did not dance, they sat and talked, and seemed to the shepherd to be very sad. At one point Hildur gave one of her children one of her rings to play with; after the child was done playing with it the shepherd snatched it up.

"Fairy Feast", Arthur Rackham

Finally Hildur made preparations to leave, which was met with protests by all except an old woman alone in the corner. The King begged her to stay, but Hildur said, "I cannot stay here, in consequence of the spell by which your mother has bound me, and who knows if I shall ever see you more." She told him that she had killed so many men that she would certainly be found out and punished, even though she had done it against her will.

The shepherd went back to the bridle and pretended to be asleep again as she rode him back to the farm. The farmer came in early in the morning, anxious to see whether or not this shepherd had survived through Christmas morning, and rejoiced to see him alive and well. He asked if anything strange had happened during the night.

"Nothing, except that I had a very wonderful dream." He then told the story of what had happened. Afterwards Hildur said, "If you tell the truth, show us some token to prove what you say."

The shepherd showed the ring. Hildur then said that he had delivered her from the spell that had been placed on her by her mother in law and told them the full story. She was a lowly fairy maid, but the fairy king fell in love with her. The marriage displeased his mother, who bound Hildur by a spell to become a servant in the world of woe, and every Christmas Eve, to kill a man, the only night she was allowed back to the fairy kingdom. She was to do this until she was convicted of murder and put to death, unless she should meet a man courageous enough to go with to the world of Fairies and bring back evidence. She thanked and blessed the shepherd for being the first man who dared venture into the dark roads that lead to Fairyland, but longed for her true home, and disappeared, never to be seen again in the world of mankind.

The shepherd later married and became a wise and successful farmer, but he always attributed his wealth  to Hildur the Fairy Queen.

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Found in Surlalune's Twelve Dancing Princesses: Tales From Around the World; summarized by me

First image above, an illustration of Hildur, found on Wikipedia. No illustrator credited, but this excerpt from the same page is interesting:
"There are four Icelandic holidays considered to have a special connection with hidden people: New Year's Eve, Twelfth Night (January 6), Midsummer Night and Christmas night.^[44] Elf bonfires (álfabrennur) are a common part of the holiday festivities on Twelfth Night (January 6).^[45][46][47] There are many Icelandic folktales about elves and hidden people invading Icelandic farmhouses during Christmas and holding wild parties.^[48] It is customary in Iceland to clean the house before Christmas, and to leave food fo the huldufólk on Christmas.^[49] On New Year's Eve, it is believed that the elves move to new locations, and Icelanders leave candles to help them find their way.^[50] OnMidsummer Night, folklore states that if you sit at a crossroads, elves will attempt to seduce you with food and gifts; there are grave consequences for being seduced by their offers, but great rewards for resisting."

Christmas as time for Storytelling

Hey-remember when I said I was engaged? Well, the wedding is now less than a month away! Which means that in addition to working, I will be doing much wedding planning, moving to a new Chicago suburb, and doing this thing called Christmas. So don't be surprised if I'm extra scarce around here for a while...I will hopefully have more time for reading and posting around mid-January when we get back from the honeymoon!

In the meantime:

Christmas, at least in Victorian England, was seen as a time set apart for telling stories. I have a book from my library from 1881 titled "Yuletide Stories" which I originally thought would be Christmas themed, but are in fact fairy tales from different parts of Europe. Dickens wrote a series of stories, each supposedly told by a different person in a group gathered around a Christmas tree.

Christmas was also used as an idealized image of the telling of folk and fairy tales. When the Grimms published their collection, they tried to romanticize them by emphasizing the image of an old woman reciting the tales word for word, when really most of the tales were told by young friends of theirs. When the Grimm collection was translated into English, Edgar Taylor, the translator, fleshed out this image even more.

from The Illustrated London News, 1848

In the epigraph to his first volume, he writes, "Now you must imagine me to sit by a good fire, amongst a companye of good fellowes, over a well spiced bowle of Christmas ale, telling of these merrie tales which hereafter followe." Sounds pretty cozy...

Taylor went on to name a fictitious narrator, Gammer Grethel, and invent a history for her:

"Gammer Grethel was an honest, good-humoured farmer's wife, who, a while ago, lived far off in Germany.
She knew all the good stories that were told in that country; and every evening about Christmas time the boys and girls of the neighborhood gathered round to hear her tell them some of her budget of strange stories.
One Christmas, being in that part of the world, I joined the party; and begged her to let me write down what I heard, for the benefit of my young friends in England. And so, for twelve merry evenings, beginning with Christmas Eve, we met and listened to her budget."

Even though there was no Gammer Grethel, we can try to revive the tradition of spreading fairy tales at Christmas time!

EDIT: Woops! Forgot to credit my source! Jennifer Schacker, National Dreams: The Remaking of Fairy Tales in Nineteenth Century England

Scary Night Visitors

From BBC News, Bogeymen: Five Scary Visitors in the Night by Lucy Proctor describes some little known, scary alternatives to the gift-giving Santa Claus, such as the Gryla from Iceland:

"Her story goes back to pagan times, but in more recent centuries she has become part of Christmas - making the trip down to the towns and cities, searching for naughty children.

She returns to her cave with a bag stuffed full of crying youngsters, whom she boils alive and gobbles up."

And Zwarte Piet from the Netherlands:

"Until the 19th Century, Sinterklaas did his own dirty work, bringing good children presents, but taking bad ones away in his sack for re-education and a beating.

But in 1850, children's author Jan Schenkman drew him with a black servant, who later became known as Zwarte Piet. It is now Zwarte Piet's job to go down the chimney to deliver presents and catch the less fortunate children."

It's a fun, quick read with some surprising information-although maybe less surprising if you're already familiar with the dark side of folklore and how it has become more and more tamed over the years.

History of Nutcracker Ballet

I get to see the Joffrey Ballet's Nutcracker today, a favorite Christmas tradition of mine! This short video provides a brief history of the Nutcracker ballet, and how ETA Hoffman's story became a holiday classic. From dancechanneltv

For more on the history of the story of the Nutcracker, you can read my posts from years past on ETA Hoffman's story and Dumas' version

Guest post: Christie from Spinning Straw Into Gold on Little Match Girl

Tales of Faerie is proud to bring you its first ever guest post! I have been an admirer of Spinning Straw Into Gold for a while now; Christie's posts always give me lots of food for thought, and her blog is on my list of regular must-reads. I was absolutely thrilled when she agreed to write a guest post for us here! Please enjoy reading her thoughts on "The Little Match Girl".

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The Little Match Girl was first told to me by my own grandmother during Christmastime.  An exquisitely tragic tale, even beyond what is customary for Hans Christian Anderson, it gripped me with its unusual straightforwardness—almost brutality—in describing suffering, as well as its bittersweet ending.

You’re probably familiar with it; if not, do a little detective work here on Tales of Faerie and you’ll find it. 

As the story goes, a poor little match girl, shoeless in the freezing cold on the eve of the new year, receives three visions when she strikes three matches, each one so real, she is utterly disappointed when the visions vanish into the icy night.  After experiencing, each in their turn, the fulfillment of her earthly needs—sustenance, shelter, and beauty—the little match girl dares to strike a fourth match.  In the blaze, her deceased grandmother, the only one who ever been kind to her, appears.  The little match girl begs her grandmother not to leave her as the other visions did and strikes all the remaining matches.  So the old woman lifts her granddaughter up with her into the light of eternity.

Rachel Isador

The Christian tradition of the beatific vision goes back as far as the Old Testament: the belief that should one witness God in true form, as one speaks face to face with a friend, he should die (think Zeus and Semele, the mother of Dionysus).

I don’t claim Anderson was thinking of this very theology when he wrote The Little Match Girl, but it does give one pause for thought.  The three visions lit from three matches are preludes to or glimpses of the fourth beatific vision, that of the grandmother who “had never looked so big or so beautiful.”  It is in the final vision that the little girl is taken up with her grandmother to be “where there was no more cold, no hunger, no pain, for they were with God.”

Janet and Anne Graham Johnstone

Another theme very strong in all of Anderson’s work is that of suffering.  The glorious visions of the little match girl do not come by nothing.  Rather, they are granted to one who has endured no small amount of mental and physical anguish.  But for the match girl, as for others in Anderson’s tales, suffering is redemptive—that is, it is not useless suffering.

The little match girl’s suffering has led her to light the matches and summon her grandmother, an obvious emissary of the divine.  And in addition to her own beatification, the child’s frozen body is witnessed the following morning on New Year’s Day, and onlookers and readers alike internalize the puzzle of why the dead little girl smiles so peacefully.

The theme has not escaped notice.  Composer David Lang won the 2008 Pulitzer Prize for music with The Little Match Girl Passion.

In another example, the namesake character of The Little Mermaid experiences the daily passion of the sensation of walking on knives.  When she finally sees her beloved find happiness with another, her acceptance of this suffering is transformative.  It gives her a lease-to-own soul of sorts, something she wouldn’t have had otherwise.

Lastly, the matches lit by the little girl are reminiscent of the four candles of the Advent wreath, each lit during one of the four weeks leading up to Christmas, in anticipation of the solstice holiday (holy day).  The candles are symbols to remind observers of the light of the Christ child and the guiding star, the halo of eternity at the end of the earthly journey, and the season of new life to come in spring.  The worst is almost over.

On the first day of the new year, when we find the tranquil but dead little match girl in the snow, we find also this important truth, which Anderson has presented to us without fancy wrapping paper or softened edges: that suffering is only to be endured for a time.  That “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).

Or perhaps, a word from fairy tale grandfather J.R.R. Tolkien is more fitting: “in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach” (The Return of the King, “The Land of Shadow”).

Yes, Virginia

In 1897, a young girl named Virginia O'Hanlon wrote a letter to the New York Sun, asking the editor whether or not there really was a Santa Claus. The now-famous response began "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus," as Francis Pharcellus Church went on to explain not only that he existed, but why believing in him was such an important thing.

Church encouraged his readers to consider what a world would be like without Santa Claus and how dreary that would be: "there would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We sohuld have no enjoyment except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished. Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies!"

I don't think it's wrong to join in the cultural practices of Santa Claus lore, we did in my family growing up although my parents didn't emphasize the Santa Claus part, and I can't remember a time when I actually believed in Santa Claus, so I realize I'm probably coming from a minority perspective. But I disagree with the idea that if you don't believe in this specific story that there is nothing "to make tolerable this existence." Really? The only thing that makes life worth living is a fat man on the North Pole who gives you whatever you want once a year? That's a pretty pathetic view of life on this earth.

I realize Church was probably not so concerned with the particular details of what Santa does on Christmas Eve as the fact that he believes children should believe in wonderous things, which I agree with. But the fact is, there are plenty of wonderful things in this world that really do exist. You can still view the world through a lens of wonder and awe without being naive and believing lies. As we learn more and more about science we see the beauty and mystery of Nature, from the cosmos to the microscopic, and we realize there is so much more to our existence than we can ever comprehend.

Thomas Nast

I find it interesting he compares belief in Santa with belief in fairies, not only because of my interest in fairy tales, but because belief in fairies is not generally encouraged among children the way belief in Santa Claus is. Most children go through some sort of disillusionment when they discover where their presents really come from, although apparently most manage to get over it without ruining trust in their parents, but I'm a big believer in being honest with kids so I'm not sure how I would handle the issue myself. My parents wanted us to experience the joy of giving as well as receiving, which is part of the reason they didn't go to extreme lengths to keep us believing our presents magically appeared every year.

I think it's more important to emphasize the real heroes in life-those who spend their lives making the world a better place, those who work and volunteer in charities and schools, firefighters and policemen and women and members of the military-those who risk their lives making our lives safer. You don't have to have a superpower to be a hero, and even if Santa Claus doesn't exist the way the Christmas songs say he does, I do believe in the miraculous. I agree with this quote which is also part of Church's "Yes, Virginia" editorial: "there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart."

Sometimes we do get glimpses of what lies beyond the veil. Santa Claus, and fairy tales, can help us imagine what this world could be like, but are only guidelines.

The Little Match Girl

A. W. Bayes

Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening-- the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn; so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she scuffled away across the street, because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast.

One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been laid hold of by an urchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it would do capitally for a cradle when he some day or other should have children himself. So the little maiden walked on with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red and blue from cold. She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron, and she held a bundle of them in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of her the whole livelong day; no one had given her a single farthing.

She crept along trembling with cold and hunger--a very picture of sorrow, the poor little thing!

The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which fell in beautiful curls around her neck; but of that, of course, she never once now thought. From all the windows the candles were gleaming, and it smelt so deliciously of roast goose, for you know it was New Year's Eve; yes, of that she thought.

In a corner formed by two houses, of which one advanced more than the other, she seated herself down and cowered together. Her little feet she had drawn close up to her, but she grew colder and colder, and to go home she did not venture, for she had not sold any matches and could not bring a farthing of money: from her father she would certainly get blows, and at home it was cold too, for above her she had only the roof, through which the wind whistled, even though the largest cracks were stopped up with straw and rags.

Her little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! a match might afford her a world of comfort, if she only dared take a single one out of the bundle, draw it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. She drew one out. "Rischt!" how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, bright flame, like a candle, as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. It seemed really to the little maiden as though she were sitting before a large iron stove, with burnished brass feet and a brass ornament at top. The fire burned with such blessed influence; it warmed so delightfully. The little girl had already stretched out her feet to warm them too; but--the small flame went out, the stove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-out match in her hand.

Arthur Rackham

She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and where the light fell on the wall, there the wall became transparent like a veil, so that she could see into the room. On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth; upon it was a splendid porcelain service, and the roast goose was steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried plums. And what was still more capital to behold was, the goose hopped down from the dish, reeled about on the floor with knife and fork in its breast, till it came up to the poor little girl; when--the match went out and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was left behind. She lighted another match. Now there she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas tree: it was still larger, and more decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant's house.

Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and gaily-colored pictures, such as she had seen in the shop-windows, looked down upon her. The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when--the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher, she saw them now as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long trail of fire.

Anne Anderson

 

"Someone is just dead!" said the little girl; for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now no more, had told her, that when a star falls, a soul ascends to God.

She drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the lustre there stood the old grandmother, so bright and radiant, so mild, and with such an expression of love.

"Grandmother!" cried the little one. "Oh, take me with you! You go away when the match burns out; you vanish like the warm stove, like the delicious roast goose, and like the magnificent Christmas tree!" And she rubbed the whole bundle of matches quickly against the wall, for she wanted to be quite sure of keeping her grandmother near her. And the matches gave such a brilliant light that it was brighter than at noon-day: never formerly had the grandmother been so beautiful and so tall. She took the little maiden, on her arm, and both flew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, and then above was neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety--they were with God.

But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl, with rosy cheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against the wall--frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. Stiff and stark sat the child there with her matches, of which one bundle had been burnt. "She wanted to warm herself," people said. No one had the slightest suspicion of what beautiful things she had seen; no one even dreamed of the splendor in which, with her grandmother she had entered on the joys of a new year.

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Full text of Hans Christian Andersen's "The Little Match Girl" was taken from here. It's such a sad tale, but I've always found it to be hauntintly beautiful. From Surlalune's annotations: "New Year's Eve, as mentioned specifically later in the story. The Christmas and New Year holidays are known for great times of charitable giving. This story has become one of the most popular tales for inspiring charitable donations, especially during the Christmas holidays. It's also a reminder that this little girl, like so many others in poverty, needs help every day of the year, not just Christmas."

This is unusual  for this blog, but if you want to make a difference this Christmas season beyond obligatory cultural gift exchanging, you could help real children who suffer like the little girl in this tale. You can give a gift or request gifts from the World Vision gift catalogue,  giving gifts such as clean water, food, warm clothes, help for sexually exploited girls, and so much more! We talk a lot about issues having to do with fairy tales, such as women's rights and poverty, but I like to think of studying fairy tales as being something that inspires me to make the world a better place, not just a hobby.

Happy St. Nicholas' Day!

Although Santa isn't technically a fairy tale, the more I learn the more I'm amazed by the paralells between the evolution of faerie and the evolution of St. Nicholas to Santa Claus.

Fairies were once feared and regarded to be unpredictable creatures, who could range from malevolent to merely capricious pranksters, but hardly ever in the history of fairy lore were fairies the beneficient, wish-granting characters they are painted as today, nor were they necessarily miniature and winged.

St. Nicholas was not fearsome in the sense that he was evil or unpredictable, but he was held in awe by his followers. According to legends, he not only had the power to predict and prevent disasters, but to restore the innocent to life, as well as take a life as punishment for crime.

Read my post from last year on the stories of the three girls rescues from prostitution or slavery, which is thought to be the origin of the tradition of hanging stockings, or the story of the three murdered students St. Nicholas brought back to life (which includes gruesome details, much like the fairy tale Robber Bridegroom).

St. Nicholas was also the patron saint of sea travelers, and many stories include him appearing in dreams, or in person (even after his death) to sailors to warn them of storms and redirect them, work with them, even restore a sailor to life who had perished in a storm. Because of the story of the students referenced above, he became the patron saint of students as well. Over time, illustrations and versions of that story created students that were younger and younger, until they became children, and he eventually became the patron saint of children in general. There is also a story of him returning a boy from slavery to his parents on his feast day (today, December 6!) which aided in his image as protector of children. In fact, as stories developed and spread throughout Europe and Russia and parts of Africa, he became the patron saint of practically everyone-from pawnbrokers to vagabonds. He also eventually came to be associated with restoring happiness and wealth, and later into the Giver of Gifts we know him as.

St. Nicholas was also associated with stories involving the number three-three generals or three students saved from death, three episodes-a characteristic of folk tales as well.

Throughout the Middle Ages, it became common for plays to be performed on his feast day enacting scenes of his life and miracles. Though the plays could get a bit bawdy at times, or light-hearted poking fun at an image usually regarded with supreme reverence, the happy ending justified the rest of the play. Already we see a beginning of a transformation of attitudes-from fear and awe of his earlier worshipers, to a figure of celebration and fun.

Though there may be some remnants of folklore in the Santa Claus traditions we currently have (the Swedish Jul-Bocken, or Christmas buck, that bore presents, relate to Santa's reindeer, and his fur coat is similar to that of Pelz-Nicol in southern Germany) Santa Claus as we know him is the product of three specific men in New York in the nineteenth century.

Washington Irving wrote a spoof history of the Dutch immigrants that included references to St. Nicholas, thus reminding the American population of this once-venerated figure in Europe. Influenced by this, Clement Clarke Moore wrote his famous "A Visit From St. Nicholas" (now more commonly known as "The Night Before Christmas") in 1822.  Thomas Nast's illustrations of Santa Claus transformed him from the once thin (literally, thin enough to fit through a chimney) to the rotund figure we see in so many commercials, shopping malls, and storefronts around this time of year. Rather like Charles Perrault did to Cinderella, the elements we now think of as ageless really sprang up due to these three men-building toys in the North Pole, records of good and bad children, receiving and answering children's letters, and driving his reindeer-none of these ideas were associated with Santa previous to New York in the early nineteenth century.
 To put this in perspective, as Santa Claus was becoming more and more a jolly children's figure, the standard fairy tale versions we know were being created-the Grimm brothers' collection first published in Germany in 1812. The relatively new phenomenon of children's literature was affecting the images of folk tales and saints alike, transforming them into "child-appropriate" in such a way that their earlier histories have become all but erased from present knowledge.

What does this history of Santa Claus mean? In the words of Martin Ebon, the versions of Santa Claus reflect the surrounding culture more than anything else, as we adapt our folklore to meet our needs (just like the evolution of fairy tales).  Wherever there was a need, St. Nicholas was there to calm fears and instill hopes-from the dangers of the sea, to those of travelling students, to the vulnerability of children in general. "He is what he is today, as Santa Claus, because we yearn for a season of altruism, childlike innocence, and 'Peace on Earth.'"

*All information from Martin Ebon's Saint Nicholas: Life and Legend

Fairy tale ornaments

Haven't had too much time to devote to blogging lately, but I can at least share this cute Beauty and the Beast-inspired ornament on etsy while I'm reading up for future posts...the seller from Life is the Bubbles has lots of other Disney/Disneyland inspired products worth checking out too, if Madame Leota's Incantations or Club 33 means anything to you it would be right up your alley.

Other fairy tale related products from this shop:

Christmas Greetings from a Fairy to a Child

Lady, dear, if Fairies may
For a moment lay aside
Cunning tricks and elfish play,
Tis at happy Christmas-tide.

We have heard the children say--
Gentle children, whom we love--
Long ago on Christmas Day,
Came a message from above.

Still, as Christmas-tide comes round,
They remember it again--
Echo still the joyful sound
"Peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Yet the hearts must childlike be
Where such heavenly guests abide;
Unto children, in their glee,
All the year is Christmas-tide!

Thus, forgetting tricks and play
For a moment, Lady dear,
We would wish you, if we may,
Merry Christmas, glad New Year


Lewis Carroll

Dumas' Nutcracker

Image from here

Last year I did a post on the original E.T.A. Hoffman story that inspired the ballet The Nutcracker. This year I read the Dumas version, which I knew was based on the Hoffman, but excpected to see an evolution from the Hoffman to the Dumas to the ballet. I was surprised by how similar Dumas' version was to Hoffman's, and even wondered why he bothered to rewrite it in the first place if he wasn't going to change anything significant. This site says it was because Hoffman's tale was considered to morbid for kids so Dumas made it more family friendly. Wikipedia calls the Dumas story a "somewhat watered-down revision." Surlalune featured a book that includes both versions plus an introduction by Jack Zipes, which I would love to read, but unfortunately isn't available to me at the moment.

Westside Ballet School

I don't see Dumas' version as being any different in child-friendliness or morbidness, because the plot is the same, other than he did pare down some of the descriptions and extra details. The only interesting addition I found in Dumas was an explanation of how Drosselmeier lost his eye on his travels, attempting to find the nut Krakatuk, because Drosselmeier almost always has an eye patch in the ballet versions.

Pennsylvania Ballet

Here is the description of Marie finding the Nutcracker, first from Hoffman:

"Objection, considerable objection, might, perhaps, have been taken to him on the score of his figure, for his body was rather too tall and stout for his legs, which were short and slight; moreover, his head was a good deal too large. But much of this was atoned for by the elegance of his costume, which showed him to be a person of taste and cultivation. He had on a very pretty violet hussar's jacket, knobs and braid all over, pantaloons of the same, and the loveliest little boots ever seen even on a hussar officer-fitting his little legs just as if they had been painted on them. It was funny, certainly, that dressed in this style as he was he had a little, rather absurd, short cloak on his shoulders, which looked almost as if it were made of wood, and on his head a cap like a miner's. But Marie remembered that Godpapa Drosselmeier often appeared in a terribly ugly morning jacket, and with a frightful-looking cap on his head, and yet was a very very darling godpapa."

Now from Dumas:

"His body was too long and big for the miserable little thin legs which supported it, and his head was so enormous that it was all out of proportion to the rest. He wore a braided frock-coat of violet-coloured velvet, all frogged and covered with buttons, and trousers of the same material, as well as shiny boots. But there were two things which seemed strange compared with the rest of his dress-one was an ugly narrow cloak made of wood which hung down rather like a pigtail from the nape of his neck to the middle of his back, and the other was a wretched little cap, such as some mountaineers wear, upon his head. But Marie, when she saw these two oddities which seemed so out of keeping with the rest of his dress, remembered that her godfather himself wore on top of his yellow frock-coat a collar of no better appearance than the wooden cloak belonging to the little man, and that the doctor often covered his own bald head with an ugly cap quite unlike all the other ugly caps in the world."

This is a good example of the difference between the versions. Minor detail and wording differences, but anything significant has been carried through both. In this instance Dumas' writing isn't even that much more simplified. So I don't really see why other sources are so insistent upon the fact that the ballet plot is taken from the Dumas-in terms of plot his and Hoffman's stories are nearly identical, and the ballet plot has definitely taken on its own characteristics which differ slightly from production to production but are, overall, universally the same.

The Legends of St. Nicholas

St. Nicholas was a real man born in the third century, in what was then Greek but now part of Turkey. He was known for being exceedingly generous, giving all he had to the poor and expecting nothing in return, and is considered a saint of protecting children as well as sailors.

Over time, of course, legends have grown out of this man and I'm sure there's some truth to some of the stories about him but much has been exaggerated. You may have heard the story that is supposedly the origin of stockings-there was a poor man with three daughters and he had no money for their dowries. Because of this he would be forced to sell them into slavery, but on three occasions, a bag of gold was thrown in through the window, so his daughters were saved from slavery. One or more of these bags of gold landed in a stocking drying at the fireplace, and that's where the tradition came from (also, the balls of gold could be the origin of putting oranges in Christmas stocking, a tradition which my father had growing up but which I think has been largely lost, at least in America).


There are other lesser known stories about St. Nicholas-such as magically whisking an enslaved boy back to his parents on St. Nicholas' Day (December 6). Another story I heard in France earlier this year-we were staying very near a Cathedral dedicated to St. Nicholas, with an American who's been living in France, and she was shocked by the violence of this story, but it's really not too different from a lot of fairy tales. Anyway, three students (or children, in the French version) were murdered by an innkeeper, who hid their remains in a pickling tub. Nicholas stayed the night at the inn and dreamed the crime, and summoned the innkeeper. Nicholas prayed and brought the children back to life. I don't know what happened to the innkeeper-neither the story I was told nor this site has anything on it.

Images by Elisabeth Jvanosky and also from the link just above

December Liturgy of the Dead

Commenter Heidi shared on my recent post on storytelling at Christmastime the link to the story of the December Liturgy of the Dead. I believe this tale can also be found in Thomas Keightley's Fairy Mythology, but I had no idea it was still in circulation in other parts of the world. So in keeping with my own advice about balancing the warm and fuzzy holiday feelings with some chilling tales from our ancestors, here's the story for you all to enjoy:



Gladys Owen


"The story takes place in Oslo, where there lived a woman, a bit over her prime age. It was Christmas Eve and she had decided to go to church Christmas morning. During the night she woke up, her watch had stopped, so she did not know what time it was. She walked over to the window and looked toward the church. There was light in all the windows. She dressed herself, took the hymn book and went to church. It was empty in the streets and she saw noone. When she arrived the church, she sat down where she used to sit. She looked around and thought the people there looked so pale and strange. There was no one she knew, but there were many she thought she had seen before, she just did not remember quite where. When the priest arrived, he was someone she did not know, though she thought she had seen him before. He was a tall and pale man.

The priest preached beautifully, but it was quiet, and not coughing in the churchroom as she was accustomed to. It was so quiet that she almost got a little scared by it. When they began to sing, a woman, who sat next to her, bent towards her and whispered into her ear: Throw the coat loosely on your shoulders and leave this place. If you stay, this will be your end, because this is time for the dead. The wife was afraid, because when she heard her voice and looked at her, she realized that it was neighbor woman who had died long ago. She was really scared. She put on her coat, like the woman had said and left. As she walked, it was as if they grabbed her. Her legs trembled so that she thought she would fall. When she came out on the stairs, she felt how they hold her back in her coat, so she let go of the coat and she ran home as fast as she could. Back home, she collapsed of the anxiety.

Next morning, when people came to church, they found her coat on the stairs, torn apart into a thousand pieces."

Tell that one at your next Christmas party :)

Storytelling at Christmastime

"There'll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glories of Christmases long, long ago"-so goes the lyrics to a part of "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year," a popular Christmas song being played on the radio and in businesses now. I had never really noticed these words before and thought of them as odd. I don't usually associate Christmas with telling ghost stories-in fact, Christmas stories are notorious fpr being especially cheesy.

But as we've seen with fairy tales, often dark and disturbing tales have, over time, been turned into cutesy, "child appropriate" stories which are hardly anything like their ancestors. A lot of things tend to go this direction-that which is truly terrifying loses its power and becomes tamed; vampires, pirates, why not Christmas traditions as well? After all, one of the most popular Christmas stories of all times, Dickens' "A Christmas Carol," features four ghosts-but we now know the happy resolution so well the ghosts don't tend to phase us much.

John Leech

Maybe this year we should tell a few scary stories to balance out the feel good holiday stories we're bound to hear as well (not that feel good holiday stories don't have their place...)

Politically Correct Bedtime Stories

I found a copy of Politically Correct Bedtime Stories by James Finn Garner at a resale shop and snatched it up. It's great for an easy read and lots of laughs. Garner pokes fun at well-known fairy tales, as well as those who get too easily offended.

Book description: "Once upon a time, in the olden days, heavy-set middle-aged men would congregate in their elitist clubs, sit in overstuffed leather chairs, smoke air-choking cigars, and pitch story ideas and plots to each other. Problem was, these stories, many of which found their way into the general social consciousness, reflected the way in which these men lived and saw their world: that is, the stories were sexist, discriminatory, unfair, culturally biased, and in general, demeaning to witches, animals, goblins, and fairies everywhere.
Finally, after centuries of these abusive tales, which have been handed down-unknowingly-from one male-biased generation to the next, James Finn Garner has taken it upon himself (that's right, yet another man) to enlighten and liberate these classic bedtime stories and retell them in a way that is much more in keeping with the society in which we live today."

An exerpt from Garner's take on Rapunzel:
"Now, this witch was very kindness-impaired. (This is not meant to imply that all, or even some, witches are that way, nor to deny this particular witch her right to express whatever disposition came naturally to her. Far from it, her disposition was without doubt due to many factors of her upbringing and socialization, which, unfortunately, must be omitted here in the interest of brevity.)...the witch took the child deep into the woods and imrisoned her in a tall tower, the symbolism of which should be obvious. There Rapunzel grew to wommonhood. The tower had no doors or stairs, but it did boast a single window at the top. The only way for anyone to get to the window was for Rapunzel to let down her long, luxurious hair and climb it to the top, the symbolism of which should also be obvious."

Also by James Finn Garner:

Once Upon a More Enlightened Time: More Politically Correct Bedtime Stories

Politically Correct Holiday Stories: For an Enlightened Yuletide Season

Fairy Tales in Christmas History

One more Christmas-themed post, for good measure:

This month I checked out Christmas: A Social History by Mark Connelly from my library, which I recommend to anyone who enjoys learning about Christmas but might tire of the traditional feel-good stories in which a person's character and morality can supposedly be measured by their level of Christmas spirit. (Don't get me wrong, I watch each classic Christmas special religiously every year...) This book takes a historical-social approach, analyzing Christmas traditions and what they reflect about the society at the time, focusing on the English perspective.



I didn't expect to find fairy tale references in it, but a large part of the historical Christmas celebrations in England were pantomimes, some of which focused on fairy tale plots. Just further evidence of how fairy tales are altered to fit moods and attitudes of the culture that creates them:


"E. L. Blanchard wrote Faw Fee Fo Fum; or, Halequin Jack, the Giant Killer in 1867 for Drury Lane. The pantomime starts on the Giant's Causeway, showing the giant leaving Ireland to come to England. This seems to play on long-standing fears of Ireland as a staging-post for invasions of England. England is portrayed as the home of chivalry and merriment...When Jack realizes that the nation is in peril from the giant and sees the glory of the Duke's retinue he vows to become a knight-no rejection of aristocratic values here. Jack then goes off to defeat the giant and is feted as a glorious knight...He also becomes a hero in Ireland where the fairies and leprechauns are glad to be rid of the tyranny of the giant, thus sending a ressuring message about the unity of the two nations. Jack sums up the Victorian belief in the ancient English liberties and tells the audience: 'We English form a curious community/No tyrant makes us prisoners with impunity.' "


Image-Arthur Rackham

This was not the only Jack and the Beanstalk-themed pantomime; Arabian Nights were also popular source material (these fairy tales were also mentioned by Charles Dickens in his "A Christmas Tree", proof that they were both very popular in England at the time). Interest in China and the East had widened as trade between the countries did, evidenced in the fact that the names used in plays about Aladdin usually had to do with tea: Widow Twankay (a famous port), Tealeaf, Souchong (a tea leaf with a smoky taste because of the affects of being exposed to fire on the long journey from the east), and Mazawatea.

Charles Dickens-A Christmas Tree

"But, now, the very tree itself changes, and becomes a bean-stalk--the marvellous bean-stalk up which Jack climbed to the Giant's house! And now, those dreadfully interesting, double-headed giants, with their clubs over their shoulders, begin to stride along the boughs in a perfect throng, dragging knights and ladies home for dinner by the hair of thei heads. And Jack-how noble, with his sword of sharpness, and his shoes of swiftness! Again those old meditations come upong me as I gaze up at him; and I debate within myself whether there was more than one Jack (which I am loathe to believe possible), or only one genuine original admirable Jack, who achieved all the recorded exploits.

"Good for Christmas-time is the ruddy colour of the cloak, in which-the tree making a forest of itself for her to trip through, with her basket-Little Red Riding-Hood comes to me one Christmas Eve to give me information of the cruelty and treachery of that dissembling Wolf who ate her grandmother, without making any impression on his appetite, and then ate her, after making that ferocious joke about his teeth. She was my first love. I felt that if I could have married Little Red Riding-Hood, I should have known perfect bliss. But, it was not to be...

"Hush! Again a forest, and somebody up in a tree--not Robin Hood, not Valentine, not the Yellow Dwarf...but an Eastern King with a glittering scimitar and turban. By Allah! two Eastern Kings, for I see another, looking over his shoulder! Down upon the grass, at the tree's foot, lies the full length of a coal-black Giant, stretched asleep, with his head in a lady's lap; and near them is a glass box, fastened with four locks of shining steel, in which he keeps the lady prisoner when he is awake, I see the four keys at his girdle now. The lady makes signs to the two kings in the tree, who softly descend. It is the setting-in of the bright Arabian Nights.

"Oh, now all common things become uncommon and enchanted to me. All lamps are wonderful; all rings are talismans. Common flower-pots are full of treasure, with a little earth scattered on top; trees are for Ali Baba to hide in; beef-steaks are to throw down into the Valley of Diamonds...Any iron ring let into stone is the entrance to a cave which only waits for the magician...all apples are akin to the apple purchased from the Sultan's garden...

"Yes, on every object that I recognise among those upper branches of my Christmas Tree, I see this fairy light! When I wake in bed, at daybreak, on the cold, dark, winter mornings, the white snow dimly beheld, outside, through the frost on the window-pane, I hear Dinarzade. 'Sister, sister, if you are yet awake, I pray you finish the history of the Young King of the Black Islands.' Scheherezade replies, 'If my lord the Sultan will suffer me to live another day, sister, I will not only finish that, but tell you a more wonderful story yet.' Then, the gracious Sultan goes out, giving no orders for execution, and we all three breathe again."

Texts taken from "A Christmas Tree" by Charles Dickens, a delightful piece in which he recalls childhood memories that come to mind in the presence of his Christmas tree. People love to quote the line where Dickens claimed he thought he should have known perfect bliss if he married Little Red Riding Hood, so here is a bit more of the context, which includes other fairy tale references as well. To those of you that celebrate-Merry Christmas!

Images: here, Charles H. Sylvester, llamdorada, Virginia Frances Sterrett, Illustrated London News "Christmas at Windsor Castle" (1848),

The Joffey's Nutcracker

In the Chicago area, (or the whole coutry according to the ads,) the Joffrey Ballet's Nutcracker is clearly the best one to see-but also the most expensive. When you're used to it, any other productions are disappointing in comparison. Thank goodness for youtube-

One of my favorite things about the Joffrey Ballet's version happens at the end of the party scene. There's always a little boy in a wheelchair at the party. If I recall correctly, they used to have it so that at the end of the party, Godpapa Drosselmeier throws some magic dust on him and he rises out of his chair-a miraculous healing. Last year, from what I could see from my seat, I think the boy in the wheelchair was really a boy with a disability. Godpapa Drosselmeier gives him a special "magic" blessing as usual, but there's no miraculous healing-I think I like it better that way; it gives encouragement to individuals and families with disabilities without an unrealistic solution that won't really happen.

ETA Hoffmann's The Nutcracker

The evolution of the Nutcracker reminds me of the evolution of Beauty and the Beast-they both started as longer, drawn out stories, including stories-within-stories that explain the characters' background. As versions of the tales were simplified-condensing the action to a shorter period of time and cutting out the backstories, they became more popular and well known. And now the original tales are hardly known at all, whether Villeneuve's Batb or Hoffmann's "Nutcracker and the King of Mice" (although for whatever reason, Beaumont is always credited with Batb and not Villeneuve, but Hoffmann always credited for Nutcracker and not Dumas.) Nutcracker also has a very beauty and the beast-esque theme running through it, so it's no surprise I love it so much.

Hoffmann's story starts, like the ballet, with the young heroine and her brother Fritz eagerly awaiting Christmas Eve festivities. The original name is Marie-she's become Clara in many versions, and interestingly Clara was Marie's Christmas doll. They also have an older sister Louise, who has been forgotten, but her character's not very important anyway.

Christmas Eve does not bring a large party with many guests, but a small family gathering, complete with Godpapa Drosselmeier, who brings them a castle he made with mechanical pieces, the genius of which is rather lost on the children. An ugly nutcracker soldier doll was discovered among the gifts, "but Marie remembered that Godpapa Drosselmeier often appeared in a terribly ugly morning jacket, and with a frightful-looking cap on his head, and yet was a very very darling godpapa." Marie "had quite fallen in love with at first sight" this ugly man. Fritz did break the Nutcracker, but not out of spite-he simply broke him trying to crack an extremely large nut. Marie was terribly upset, and Godpapa Drosselmeier laughed at her for being so concerned with such an ugly man.

That night Marie begged to be allowed to stay up a little longer to take care of her dolls. Her mamma allowed this, and as the clock struck, she saw Godpapa Drosselmeier on top of the clock, and heard the screeching of many mice. Marie was not afraid of mice, but when she saw the Mouse King with seven heads, she became frightened. Fritz' toy soldiers followed the Nutcracker out of the cupboard-note that they do not grow to life-sized proportions (which makes more sense when the throwing of a shoe causes so much distress to the Mouse King). The Nutcracker rejected a token of affection from Marie's doll Clara, since he already treasured above all else the ribbon Marie had tied around his wound. After a perilous battle, in which the Nutcracker's troops were forced to retreat and the Nutcracker in grave danger, Marie threw her left shoe straight at the King and fell senseless to the floor.

Marie woke the next morning in bed. She had cut her arm on the glass of the toy cupboard the night before and had a fever. Her parents did not believe her story of the toys and mice, but she heard a voice telling her, "Marie! Dearest lady! I am most deeply indebted to you. But it is in your power to do even more for me."

Godpapa Drosselmeier appeared, and Marie accused him of not being of any help in the battle. At first he answered very mysteriously in a way that made her parents uneasy, but after laughing at their response to his "Watchmaker's Song," he produced a Nutcracker to Marie that he had fixed, and told Marie and Fritz the Story of the Hard Nut, over a succession of nights.

In a kingdom was born a Princess named Pirlipat that had strong teeth and could bite anything as soon as she was born. Her parents adored her. One day as the Queen was making sausages for the King, the Queen of Mice asked for a bit of the browned fat. The Queen assented, but was soon troubled by all the friends and relations of the mouse Queen, and the sausage had very little fat in it. The King was very upset by all this and ordered mousetraps put all over the palace. This was done by the Clockmaker, Christian Elias Drosselmeier. The Queen was too clever to be caught in a trap, but she lost her family, including seven sons, and cursed Pirlipat with ugliness-an enormous head on top of a crumped up body, wooden eyes, and a mouth that stretched from one ear to another.

The Clockmaker, Drosselmeier, found through the Princess' horoscope the solution to the curse-to eat the kernel of the nut Crackatook, cracked in the Princess' presence by the teeth of a man whose beard had never known a razor, and who had never worn boots, and must take seven steps backwards before handing the kernel to the Princess. Drosselmeier traveled the world in search of the nut and the man destined to crack it, with no success. Finally he returned home to Nuremberg, where the solutions turned out to be in his own family-his cousin had the nut Crackatook and his cousin's son fit the exact description of the man needed to crack it.

The young Mr. Drosselmeier returned with the Clockmaker to the kingdom, where he performed his duty, but on the seventh step he took backwards, he was tripped by the Mouse Queen, cursing him with the ugliness that had been Pirlipat's and to remain that way until he slew the Queen's son with seven heads, and until a lady should fall in love with him despite his deformity (see? I told you it was just like Beauty and the Beast...)

Not long after Marie was told the history of her Nutcracker, the Mouse King-who had survived the battle-began to blackmail her for her treats and Christmas presents, threatening to chew the Nutcracker to dust if she didn't do as he said. With a heavy heart, Marie sacrificed her beautiful things- until the Mouse King wanted her picture books and dresses. The Nutcracker pleaded with her not to sacrifice any more for him, but to provide him with a sword. Fritz gives the Nutcracker one of his retired Colonel's swords, and the Nutcracker is equipped. That night the Nutcracker appears to Marie, and gave her the seven crowns of the Mouse King, who has finally been vanquished.

The Nutcracker takes her through a ladder in the wardrobe to fantastic lands like Christmas Wood and the metropolis of Sweetmeatburgh (a land where their name for God is "Pastrycook"), where he tells his subjects of Marie's loyalty and help in his victory. They are all grateful and invite her to pound sugar-candy with them, which she does until she falls asleep.

Once again her parents are not convinced, even when Marie shows them the seven tiny crowns (Drosselmeier claims he gave them to her on her second birthday). Even Fritz doubted the story (that, plus the wardrobe, reminded me of Narnia). It wasn't until Marie told the Nutcracker, "Ah, dear Mr. Drosselmeier, if you really were alive, I shouldn't be like Princess Pirlipat and despise you because you had had to give up being a nice handsome gentleman for my sake!" that there was a tremendous bang and there was Godpapa Drosselmeier with his nephew from Nuremberg, who thanked Marie for freeing him from the spell and asked her to be his Queen in Marzipan Castle, to which she agreed. They were married in a year and a day, which is somewhat disturbing, considering she was only seven at the story's beginning.

Images:Diane Goode, cherry blossom girl, almightystarfish

The Nutcracker's ETA Hoffman

The Nutcracker, the famous Christmas ballet, was based off a story written by E. T. A. Hoffmann in the fall of 1816 (to put that in the context of the fairy tale world, the Grimms published the first edition of their Children and Household Tales in 1812). Note that the ballet story is not directly derived from this story, but from Alexandre Dumas' translation and adaptation of the Hoffmann story.


Hoffmann did not consider himself primarily a writer, but a musician. According to E.F. Bleiler, Hoffmann was a very underrated but significant figure in music: he was revered as a music critic, where he wrote under the pseudonym Kreisler. He wrote "the first really romantic music," was one of the first to recognize the merits of J.S. Bach, one of the first to support Beethoven intelligently, inspired the compositions of giants such as Weber, Schumann, and Wagner, and may have been the first to write an opera based on folklore. This would be his opera Undine, based on the tale of the water nymph who dies for love of a human. Much of the music from this was destroyed in a fire.

Critics say his music was not great like his writing-it "sounded like Mozart...but without Mozart's genius." He tried to make a living off music but turned to writing when that didn't work out.


His Nutcracker story was not the only one to be turned into a ballet plot-Delibes' Coppelia is taken from his "The Sand-Man." The story "Nutcracker and the King of Mice" came out of the idea that "a child is closer to the primal innocence...than an adult, and can enter and savor realms of experience or beyond-experience that even an adult with insight cannot enter." The main characters were based off of real people-Godpapa Drosselmeier was based on himself. The Stahlbaum children were representative of his friend Hitzig's children, whom he had made a cardboard castle for the previous year, as Drosselmeier presents a castle to the children in the story.


"In 'Nutcracker and the King of Mice' a marchen or literary fairy tale serves as the 'unconsious focus' of the story. It indicates the inner relationships in the ideal world that created the present story situation, together with possibilities for future resolution."