Chapter II: Principles of Selection for Fairy Tales (2)

(b) _The penetrative imagination_. This power of imagination shows the real character of a thing and describes it by its spiritual effects. It sees the heart and inner nature of things. Through fancy the child cannot reach this central viewpoint since fancy deals only with externals. Through the exercise of this power the child develops insight, intuition, and a perception of spiritual values, and gains a love of the ideal truth and a perpetual thirst for it. He develops genuineness, one of the chief virtues of originality. He will tend not to have respect for sayings or opinions but will seek the truth, be governed by its laws, and hold a passion for perfection. This power of imagination makes of him a continual seeker, "a pilgrim upon earth." Through the penetrative imagination the child forgets himself and enters into the things about him, into the doings of Three Pigs or the adventures of Henny Penny.

(c) _The contemplative imagination_. This is that special phase of the imagination that gives to abstract being consistency and reality. Through the contemplative imagination the child gains the significance of meaning and discerns the true message of the tale. When merely external resemblance is caught, when the likeness is forced, and the image created believed in, we have fancy. The contemplative imagination interprets the past in the tale and relates it to the future. It shows what is felt by indicating some aspect of what is seen. Through the exercise of this power the child develops the capacity to see. This capacity has received a high estimate from Ruskin, who said, "Hundreds of people can talk for one who can think, thousands can think for one who can see." For language-training the capacity to see gives that ability to image words which results in mental growth.

The labor of the spirit seeking the full message of the fairy tale, often is rewarded with bits of philosophy which are the essence of its personal wisdom. Even the Woman Suffragists of our day might be amused to find, in _The Cat and Mouse in Partnership_, this side-light on one of their claims. The Mouse said she did not know what to think of the curious names, Top-off, Half-Out, and All-Out, which the Cat had chosen. To which the Cat replied, "That is because you always stay at home. You sit here in your soft gray coat and long tail, and these foolish whims get into your head. It is always the way when one does not go out in the daytime." Sometimes the philosophy of the tale is expressed not at all directly. This is the case in Andersen's _The Emperor's New Suit_, a gem in story-telling art--more suited to the second grade--where the purpose of the story is veiled, and the satire or humor is conveyed through a very telling word or two.--"'I will send my _old, honest_ minister to the weavers,' thought the Emperor. And the old, honest minister went to the room where the two swindlers sat working at empty looms. 'Heaven preserve me!' thought the old minister, opening his eyes wide. 'Why, I cannot see anything!'--But he did not say so." The entire tale is a concrete representation of one point; and the concreteness is so explicit that at the close of the story its philosophy easily forms itself into the implied message of worldly wisdom: People are afraid to speak truth concerning much through cowardice or through fear of acting otherwise than all the world. The philosophy underlying _The Steadfast Tin Soldier_ is even finer as a bit of truth than the perfect art of the literary story: That what happens in life does not matter so much as the way you take it. The Tin Soldier always remained steadfast, no matter what happened. Kipling's _Elephant's Child_ is more charming than ever when looked at from the standpoint of its philosophy. It might be interpreted as an allegory answering the question, "How should one get experience?" a theme which cannot be said to lack universal appeal. _The Ugly Duckling_ is full of sayings of philosophy that contribute to its complete message. The Cat and the Hen to whom the duckling crept for refuge said, "We and the world," and could not bear a difference of opinion. "You may believe me," said the Hen, "because I tell you the truth. That is the way to tell your friends." Their treatment of the Duckling expressed the philosophy: "If you can't do what I can you're no good." The Hen said to him, "You have nothing to do, that's why you have such strange ideas." The Duckling expressed his philosophy by saying quietly, "You don't understand me."

These bits of philosophy often become compressed into expressions which to-day we recognize as proverbs. The words of the Mother Duck, "Into the water he goes if I have to kick him in," became a Scandinavian proverb. "A little bird told it," a common saying of to-day, appears in Andersen's _Nightingale_ and in _Thumbelina_. But this saying is traceable at least to the third story of the fourth night in Straparola, translated by Keightley, _The Dancing Water, the Singing Apple, and the Beautiful Green Bird_, in which the bird tells the King that his three guests are his own children. "Even a cat may look at a king," is probably traceable to some fairy tale if not to _Puss-in-Boots_. The philosophy in the fairy tales and the proverbs that have arisen in them, are subjects which offer to the adult much pleasure and fruitfulness.

But one must ask, "Does this philosophy appeal to the child? Is it not adult wisdom foreign to his immaturity?" The old folk-tales are the products of adult minds; but the adults were grown-ups that looked upon the world with the eyes of children, and their philosophy often was the philosophy of childhood. For childhood has its philosophy; but because it meets with repression on so many sides it usually keeps it to itself. When given freedom and self-activity and self-expression, the child's philosophy appears also. And it is the inner truth of the tale rather than the outer forms of sense and shapes of beauty which, when suited to the little child, appeals to this child-philosophy and makes the deepest impression upon him.

In the literary fairy tale there often appears a philosophy which is didactic and above and beyond the child's knowledge of the world. It remains a question how much this adult philosophy appeals to him. Although his tales were written for his grandchildren, so finished a telling of the tale as we find in Laboulaye, with its delightful hits of satire, appeals more to the grown-up versed in the ways of the world. But the sage remarks of worldly wisdom of Uncle Remus could not fail to impress a little boy: "Go where you will and when you may, and stay long ez you choosen ter stay, en right dar en den you'll sholy fin' dat folks what git full er consate en proudness is gwine ter git it tuck out 'm um."--Uncle Remus treated the little boy as if he was "pestered with sense, like grown-ups," and surely the little boy gained much amusement from sayings such as these: "If you know the man thab would refuse to take care of himself, I'd like mighty well if you'd point him out."--"Well, well," said Uncle Remus soothingly, "in deze low groun's er sorrer, you des got to lean back en make allowances fer all sorts er folks. You got ter low fer dem dat knows too much same ez dem what knows too little. A heap er sayin's en a heap er doin's in dis roun' worl' got ter be tuck on trus'."--The child does not get the full force of the philosophy but he gets what he can and that much sinks in.

It is through the contemplative imagination that the child realizes the meaning of particular tales. He learns: that _Cinderella_ means that goodness brings its own reward; that _Three Pigs_ means that the wise build with care and caution, with foresight; that _Star Dollars_ means compassion for others and kindness to them; and that _Red Riding Hood_ means obedience.

The power of the contemplative imagination is based on the indistinctness of the image. It suggests, too, the relation between cause and effect, which reason afterwards proves; and therefore it is a direct aid to science. In the tales there are expressed facts of truth symbolically clothed which science since then has discovered. And now that folk-lore is being studied seriously to unfold all it gives of an earlier life, perhaps this new study may reveal some new truths of science hidden in its depths. The marvels of modern shoe manufacture were prophesied in _The Little Elves_, and the power of electricity to hold fast was foretold in _Dummling and his Golden Goose_. The wonders of modern machinery appeared in the magic axe of Espen that hit at every stroke; and the miracle of modern canals sees a counterpart in the spring which Espen brought to the giant's boiling-pot in the wood. The magic sleep from which there was an awakening, even after a hundred years, may have typified hypnotism and its strange power upon man. These are realizations of some of the wonders of fairyland. But there may be found lurking in its depths many truths as yet undiscovered by science. Perhaps the dreams of primitive man may suggest to the present-day scientist new possibilities.--What primitive man has done in fancy present-day man can do in reality.

(3) A basis of truth. All fine emotional effects arise from truth. The tale must hold the mirror and show an image of life. It must select and combine facts which will suggest emotion but the facts must be a true expression of human nature. The tale, whether it is realistic in emphasizing the familiar, the commonplace, and the present, or romantic in emphasizing the strange, the heroic, and the remote, must be idealistic to interpret truly the facts of life by high ideals. If the tale has this basis of truth the child will gain, through his handling of it, a body of facts. This increases his knowledge and strengthens his intellect. And it is to be remembered that, for the child's all-round development, the appeal of literature to the intellect is a value to be emphasized equally with the appeal to the emotions and to the imagination. Speaking of the nature of the intellect in his essay on _Intellect_, Emerson has said: "We do not determine what we will think. We only open our senses, clear away as we can all obstruction from the fact, and suffer the intellect to see." Attention to the intellectual element in literature gives a power of thought. The consideration of the truth of the fairy tale aids the child to clear, definite thinking because the experience of the tale is ordered from a beginning, through a development, to a climax, and to a conclusion. It assists him to form conclusions because it presents results of circumstances and consequences of conduct. Continued attention to the facts, knowledge, and truth presented in the tales, helps the child to grow a sincerity of spirit. This leads to that love of actual truth, which is one of the armors of middle life, against which false opinion falls harmless.

(4) A form, more or less perfect. Form is the union of all the means which the writer employs to convey his thought and emotion to the reader. Flaubert has said, "Among all the expressions of the world there is but _one_, one form, one mode, to express what I want to say."--"Say what you have to say, what you have a will to say, in the simplest, the most direct and exact manner possible, with no surplusage," Walter Pater has spoken. Then the form and the matter will fit each other so perfectly there will be no unnecessary adornment.

In regard to form it is to be remembered that feeling is best awakened incidentally by suggestion. Words are the instruments, the medium of the writer. Words have two powers: the power to name what they mean, or denotation; and the power to suggest what they imply, or connotation. Words have the power of connotation in two ways: They may mean more than they say or they may produce emotional effect not only from meaning but also from sound. To make these two suggestive powers of words work together is the perfect art of Milton. Pope describes for us the relation of sound to sense in a few lines which themselves illustrate the point:--

Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows,
And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows.
But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
The hoarse, rough verse, should like the torrent roar.
When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw.
The line too labors, and the words move slow:
Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain,
Flies o'er the unbending corn and skims along the main.

When a kindergarten child, the most timid one of a group, on listening to the telling of _The Bremen Town Musicians_, at the description of the Donkey and the Dog coming to the Cat, sitting in the road with a face "dismal as three rainy Sundays," chuckled with humor at the word "dismal," it was not because she knew the meaning of the word or the significance of "three rainy Sundays," but because the sounds of the words and the facial expression of the story-teller conveyed the emotional effect, which she sensed.

The connection between sound and action appears in _Little Spider's First Web_: The Fly said, "Then I will _buzz_"; the Bee said, "Then I will _hum_"; the Cricket said, "Then I will _chirp_"; the Ant said, "Then I will _run_ to and fro"; the Butterfly said, "Then I will _fly_"; and the Bird said, "Then I will _sing_." The effect is produced here because the words selected are concrete ones which visualize. Repetitive passages in the tales often contribute this effect of sound upon meaning, as we find in _The Three Billy-Goats Gruff_: "Trip, trap; trip, trap! went the bridge as the youngest Billy-Goat Gruff came to cross the bridge." The sound of the words in this entire tale contributes largely to the meaning. The Troll roared and said, "Now I'm coming to gobble you up!" Usually the bits of rhyme interspersed throughout the tales, illustrate this contribution of sound to meaning; as in the _Three Pigs_:--

Then I'll huff,
And I'll puff,
And I'll blow your house in!

Especially is this the case in tales dignified by the cante-fable form; such as Grimm's _Cinderella_:--

Rustle and shake yourself, dear tree,
And silver and gold throw down to me!

Or in _Little Two-Eyes_:--

Little kid, bleat,
I wish to eat!

Or in _The Little Lamb and the Little Fish_:--

Ah, my brother, in the wood
A Iamb, now I must search for food!

The suggestive power of words to convey more than they mean, is produced, not only by the sounds contained in the words themselves, but also largely by the arrangement of the words and by the speech-tunes of the voice in speaking them. Kipling's _Elephant's Child_ is a living example of the suggestive power of words. The "new, fine question" suggests that the Elephant's Child had a habit of asking questions which had not been received as if they were fine. "Wait-a-bit thorn-bush," suggests the Kolokolo Bird sitting alone on the bush in placid quiet. "And _still_ I want to know what the crocodile has for dinner" implies that there had been enough spankings to have killed the curiosity, but contrary to what one would expect, it was living and active. When Kolokolo Bird said with a _mournful_ cry, "Go to the banks of the great, grey-green, greasy Limpopo River," etc., the implication of _mournful_ is, that there the Elephant's Child would have a sorry time of it. The expression, "dear families," which occurs so often, is full of delightful irony and suggests the vigorous treatment, anything but dear, which had come to the Elephant's Child from them.

Perfect form consists in the "ability to convey thought and emotion with perfect fidelity." The general qualities characteristic of perfect form, which have been outlined by Professor Winchester, in his _Principles of Literary Criticism_, are: (1) precision or clearness; (2) energy or force; (3) delicacy or emotional harmony; and (4) personality. Precision or clearness demands the precise value and meaning of words. It requires that words have the power of denotation. It appeals to the intellect of the reader or listener and demands that language be neither vague nor ambiguous nor obscure. Energy or force demands that perfect form have the quality of emotion. It requires that words have especially the power of connotation. It appeals to the emotions of the reader or listener and has the power to hold the attention. It demands of language that sympathy which will imply what it would suggest. Delicacy or emotional harmony demands that perfect form please the taste. It requires that an emotional harmony be secured by a selection and arrangement of the melody of words and of the emotional associations which, together with the meanings, are tied up in words. It demands that words have the power of perfect adaptation to the thought and feeling they express, that words have both the power of denotation and of connotation. It appeals to the æsthetic sense of the reader or listener, it gives to form beauty and charm. Personality is the influence of the author, the charm of individuality, and suggests the character of the writer.

At the same time that perfect form is characterized by the general qualities of precision, energy, delicacy, and personality, as composition consisting of words, sentences, paragraphs, or large wholes, its elements must be controlled by certain main principles, which have been presented by Professor Barrett Wendell in _English Composition_. Perfect form cannot possess the four general qualities above mentioned unless its elements are controlled by these main principles. These are: (1) the principle of sincerity; (2) the principle of unity; (3) the principle of mass; and (4) the principle of coherence. Sincerity demands of perfect form that it be a just expression. Unity demands that every composition should group itself about a central idea. There must be one story, all incidents subordinated, one main course of action, one main group of characters, and one tone of feeling to produce an emotional effect. Variety of action must lead to one definite result and variety of feeling to one total impression. Unity demands that the tale must have a plan that is complete, with no irrelevant material, and that there must be a logical order and a climax. Mass demands that the chief parts of every composition should readily catch the eye. It maintains a harmonious proportion of all the parts. Coherence demands of any composition that the relation of each part to its neighbors should be unmistakable, and that the order, forms, and connections of the parts preserve this relation.

When form secures a perfect adaptation of the language to the thought and feeling expressed, it may be said to possess style, in a broad sense of the word. In a more detailed sense, when form is characterized by precision, energy, delicacy, and personality, and at the same time has the elements of its composition controlled by the principles of sincerity, unity, mass, and coherence, it is said to possess style. The fairy tale which is a classic characterized by that perfect form called style, will possess the general qualities of precision, energy, delicacy, and personality; and the elements of its structure, its words, its sentences, its paragraphs, will display a control of the principles of sincerity, unity, mass, and coherence.

A tale which well illustrates the literary form possible to the child's tale, which may be said to possess that perfection of form we call style, and which may be used with the distinct aim to improve the child's English and perfect his language expression, is the modern realistic fairy tale, _Oeyvind and Marit_.

_Oeyvind and Marit_ is so entirely realistic as to be excluded here, but the talking rhymes which the Mother sings to Oeyvind bring in the fairy element of the talking animals. In the form of this tale, the perfect fidelity with which the words fit the meaning is apparent--nothing seems superfluous. When Oeyvind asked Marit who she was, she replied:--

"I am Marit, mother's little one, father's fiddle, the elf in the house, granddaughter of Ole Nordistuen of the Heidi farms, four years old in the autumn, two days after the frost nights, I!"

And Oeyvind replied:--

"Are you really?"--and drew a long breath which he had not
dared to do so long as she was speaking.

The story is full of instances illustrating precision, energy, and delicacy. In fact, almost any passage exemplifies the general qualities of form and the qualities of composition. The personality of the writer has given to the tale a poetic and dramatic charm of simplicity. Note the precision and delicacy displayed in the opening paragraph:--

Oeyvind was his name. A low barren cliff overhung the house
in which he was born; fir and birch looked down on the roof,
and wild cherry strewed flowers over it. Upon this roof
there walked about a little goat, which belonged to Oeyvind.
He was kept there that he might not go astray; and Oeyvind
carried leaves and grass up to him. One fine day the goat
leaped down, and away to the cliff; he went straight up and
came where he never had been before.

Energy is apparent in the following passage:--

"Is it yours, this goat?" asked the girl again.

"Yes," he said, and looked up.

"I have taken such a fancy to the goat. You will not give it
to me?"

"No, that I won't."

She lay kicking her legs and looking down at him, and then
she said, "But if I give you a butter-cake for the goat, can
I have him then?"

The justness of expression, the sincerity, is especially impressive when Oeyvind's Mother came out and sat down by his side when the goat no longer satisfied him and he wanted to hear stories of what was far away. There is emotional harmony too, because the words suggest the free freshness of the mountain air and the landscape which rose round about the Boy and his Mother.

So she told him how once everything could talk: "The
mountain talked to the stream, and the stream to the river,
the river to the sea, and the sea to the sky."--But then he
asked if the sky did not talk to any one: "And the sky
talked to the clouds, the clouds to the trees, the trees to
the grass, the grass to the flies, the flies to the animals,
the animals to the children, the children to the grown-up
people...." Oeyvind looked at the mountain, the trees, and
the sky and had never seen them before.

There is delicacy or emotional harmony also in the Mother's song. When Oeyvind asked, "What does the Cat say?" his Mother sang:--

At evening softly shines the sun.
The cat lies lazy on the stone.
Two small mice,
Cream, thick and nice,
Four bits of fish,
1 stole behind a dish,
And am so lazy and tired,
Because so well I have fared.

The unity is maintained through the central interest of the two Children and the goat.

The tale is characterized by fairly good mass. As the story aims to portray a natural picture of child life, obviously it could not maintain a style of too great solidity and force, but rather would seek one of ease and naturalness. Mass, as shown in _Oeyvind and Marit_, appears in the following description of Oeyvind's play with the goat, after he first realized its return:--

He jumped up, took it by the two fore-legs, and danced with
it as if it were a brother; he pulled its beard, and he was
just going in to his mother with it, when he heard someone
behind him; and looking, saw the girl sitting on the
greensward by his side. Now he understood it all, and let go
the goat.

The story of child-friendship is told in distinct little episodes which naturally connect. That unmistakable relation of the parts which is essential to coherence, appears in the following outline of the story:--

1. A new acquaintance; Oeyvind and Marit meet. The exchange of a
goat for a cake. The departure of the goat. Marit sings to the
goat. The return of the goat. Marit accompanies the goat.

2. New interests. The stories of what the animals say, told to
Oeyvind by his Mother. The first day of school.

3. An old acquaintance renewed: Oeyvind again meets Marit at
School.

The Children's love of the goat, the comradeship of Oeyvind and Marit, of Oeyvind and his Mother, and of Marit and her Grandfather, are elements which assist in producing coherence. The songs of Marit, and the songs and stories of Oeyvind's Mother, especially preserve the relation of parts. In the following paragraphs, which give distinct pictures, note the coherence secured internally largely by the succession of verbs denoting action and also by the denotation of the words.

When he came in, there sat as many children round a table as
he had ever seen at church; others were sitting on their
luncheon-boxes, which were ranged round the walls; some
stood in small groups round a large printed card; the
school-master, an old gray-haired man, was sitting on a
stool by the chimney-corner, filling his pipe. They all
looked up as Oeyvind and his mother entered, and the
mill-hum ceased as if the water had suddenly been turned
off....

As he was going to find his seat, they all wanted to make
room for him. He looked round a long time, while they
whispered and pointed; he turned round on all sides, with
his cap in his hand and his book under his arm....

Just as the boy is going to turn round to the school-master,
he sees close beside him, sitting down by the hearthstone on
a little red painted tub, Marit, of the many names; she had
covered her face with both hands, and sat peeping at him
through her fingers.

The imagination is appealed to continually through the simple concrete expressions which present an image; as, "He grew hot all over, looked around about, and called, 'Killy-killy-killy-goat!'"

The emotional element is distinct and pleasing and contributes to the total impression of admiration for the characters. We admire Oeyvind for his fondness for the goat and for his pain at losing it; for his dissatisfaction in keeping it after Marit returned it, though she wanted it; for his delight in his Mother's stories; and for his pleasure in Marit's friendship at school. We admire Marit for her appreciation of the beautiful goat; for her obedience to her Grandfather; for her sorrow at giving up the goat; for her generosity in giving the neck-chain with it; and for the childish comradeship she gave to Oeyvind. We admire the goat for his loyalty to his little master. We trust the Grandfather who trained Marit to be fair and courteous; who guarded her from the cliff; and who bought for her another goat. We have faith in the Mother who had feeling for the little goat her son bartered for a cake; and who had the wisdom to sing for her little boy and tell him stories when he was sorrowful and needed new interests.

Undoubtedly _Oeyvind and Marit_ is a tale which conveys its thought clearly and makes you feel its feeling, and therefore may be said to possess style in a broad sense. In a particular sense, because its form is marked by the four general qualities: precision, energy, delicacy, and personality; and its elements are controlled by the principles of composition: sincerity, unity, mass, and coherence, it therefore may be said to possess style.

An old tale which has a literary form unusual in its approach to the perfect literary form, is the Norse, _The Three Billy-Goats Gruff_, told by Dasent in _Tales from the Norse_. Indeed after looking carefully at this tale one is tempted to say that, for perfection of style, some of the old folk-tales are not to be equaled. Note the simple precision shown in the very first paragraph:--

Once on a time there were three Billy-Goats, who were to go
up to the hill-side to make themselves fat, and the name of
all three was "Gruff."

Energy or force appeals to the emotions in the words of the tiny Billy-Goat Gruff to the Troll:--

"Oh, no! pray don't take me. I'm too little, that I am,"
said the Billy-Goat; "wait a bit till the second Billy-Goat
Gruff comes, he's much bigger."

There is emotional harmony displayed in the second paragraph; the words used fit the ideas:--

On the way up was a bridge over a burn they had to cross;
and under the bridge lived a great ugly Troll, with eyes as
big as saucers, and a nose as long as a poker.

The quality of personality is best described, perhaps, by saying that the tale seems to have impersonality. Any charm of the story-tellers of the ages has entered into the body of the tale, which has become an objective presentment of a reality that concentrates on itself and keeps personality out of sight. The character of the tellers is shown however in the qualities of the tale. The charm of the primitive story-tellers has given the tale inimitable morning-dew freshness. This seems to result from a fine simplicity, a sprightly visualization, a quaint picturesqueness, a pleasing terseness, and an Anglo-Saxon vigor.

Sincerity is displayed in the words of the Troll and of the three Billy-Goats. Note the sincerity of little Billy-Goat Gruff:--

"Oh! it is only I, the tiniest Billy-Goat Gruff; and I'm
going up to the hillside to make myself fat," said the
Billy-Goat, with such a small voice.

The unity in this tale is unusually good. The central idea which groups all the happenings in the tale is: Three Billy-Goats are crossing a bridge to go up to the hillside to make themselves fat. There are four characters, three Goats and the Troll. All that happens in the tale contributes to the one effect of a bridge going trip, trap! as a Goat crossed it on his way up the hillside; of a Troll roaring: "Who's that tripping over my bridge?" of the explanation of the Billy-Goat; of the answer of the Troll, "Now I'm coming to gobble you up"; and of the Billy-Goat's final petition. Unity is emphasized by the repetition in the tale, as the three Billy-Goats successively cross the bridge and reply to the Troll. The climax is the big Billy-Goat Gruff's tramp across the bridge.

This tale is characterized by perfect mass, the paragraphs always end with words that deserve distinction, and the sentences have their strongest words at the points where the eye would most readily see them; as, "But just then up came the big Billy-Goat Gruff." The coherence is fine, and is secured largely by the cumulative plan in a threefold sense. The relation of the parts is unmistakable. The similarity and contrast evident in the episodes of the three Billy-Goats makes this relation very clearly defined. To make doubly sure the end has been reached the tale concludes:--

Snip, snap, snout,
This tale's told out.

Let us examine the folk-tale generally as to its literary form. The folk-tale originally did not come from the people in literary form. The tale was first told by some nameless primitive man, who, returning from some adventure of everyday life, would narrate it to a group of his comrades. First told to astonish and interest, or to give a warning of the penalty of breaking Nature's laws, or to teach a moral lesson, or to raise a laugh, later it became worked up into the fabulous stories of gods and heroes. These fabulous stories developed into myth-systems, and these again into household tales. By constant repetition from one generation to another, incidents likely to happen in everyday life, which represented universal experiences and satisfied common needs of childhood, were selected and combined. These gradually assumed a form of simplicity and literary charm, partly because, just as a child insists on accuracy, savage people adhered strictly to form in repeating the tale, and because it is a law of permanence that what meets the universal need will survive. The great old folk-tales have acquired in their form a clearness and precision; for in the process of telling and re-telling through the ages all the episodes became clearly defined. And as irrelevant details dropped out, there developed that unity produced by one dominant theme and one dominant mood. The great old folk-tales, then, naturally acquired a good classic literary form through social selection and survival. But many of the tales as we know them have suffered either through translation or through careless modern retelling. Many of the folk-tales take on real literary form only through the re-treatment of a literary artist. Mrs. Steel, who has collected the _Tales of the Punjab_, tells how the little boys of India who seek to hold their listening groups will vary the incidents in a tale in different tellings, proving that the complete tale was not the original unit, but that single incidents are much more apt to retain their stock forms than plots. The combination we now have in a given tale was probably a good form once hit upon and thereafter transmitted.

Jacob (1785-1863) and William (1786-1859) Grimm, both fine scholars, incapable of any but good work, did not undertake to put the tale into literary form suited to children. They were interested in preserving folk-lore records for scientific purposes. And we must distinguish between the tale as a means of reflecting the ideals of social and religious life, of displaying all the genius of primitive man for science to interpret, and the tale as a means of pleasing and educating the child. The Grimms obtained most of their tales from the lips of people in Hesse and Hanau, Germany. They were very fortunate in securing many of the tales they were thirteen years in collecting, from an old nurse, Frau Vichmannin, the wife of a cowherd, who lived at Niederzwehrn, near Cassel, who told her story with exactness and never changed anything in repeating. Grimm himself said, "Our first care was faithfulness to the truth. We strove to penetrate into the wild forests of our ancestors, listening to their noble language, watching their pure customs, recognizing their ancient freedom and hearty faith." The Grimms sought the purity of a straightforward narration. They were against reconstruction to beautify and poetize the legends. They were not opposed to a free appropriation for modern and individual purposes. They kept close to the original, adding nothing of circumstance or trait, but rendering the stories in a style and language and development of detail which was their own literary German.

Perrault (1628-1703) had taken the old tales as his son, Charles, a lad of ten or twelve, told them. The father had told them to the son as he had gathered them up, intending to put them into verse after the manner of La Fontaine. The lad loved the stories and re-wrote them from memory for his father with such charming naïveté that the father chose the son's version in preference to his own, and published it. But the tales of Perrault, nevertheless, show the embellishment of the mature master-Academician's touch in subduing the too marvelous tone, or adding a bit of court manners, or a satirical hit at the vanity and failings of man.

Dasent (1820-96) has translated the Norse tales from the original collection of Asbjörnsen and Moe. Comrades from boyhood to manhood, scholar and naturalist, these two together had taken long walks into the secluded peasant districts and had secured the tales from the people of the dales and fells, careful to retain the folk-expressions. Dasent, with the instinct, taste, and skill of a true scholar, has preserved these tales of an honest manly race, a race of simple men and women, free and unsubdued. He has preserved them in their folk-language and in their true Norse setting. Harris (1848-1908) has given his tales in the dialect of Uncle Remus. Jacobs (1854-) has aimed to give the folk-tales in the language of the folk, retaining nurses' expressions, giving a colloquial and romantic tone which often contains what is archaic and crude. He has displayed freedom with the text, invented whole incidents, or completed incidents, or changed them. His object has been to fill children's imaginations with bright images. Andrew Lang (1844-1912) has given the tale mainly to entertain children. He has accepted translations from many sources and has given a straightforward narration. He has collected fairy tales indefatigably in his rainbow _Fairy Books_, but they are not always to be recommended for children.

Andersen (1805-75), like Perrault, made his tale for the child as an audience, and he too has put the tale into literary form. Andersen's tale is not the old tale, but an original creation, a number of which are based on old folk-material. Preserving the child's point of view, Andersen has enriched his language with a mastery of perfection and literary style. And the "mantle of Andersen" has, so far, fallen on no one.

To-day it is to be questioned if the child should be given the tale in nurses' talk. To-day children are best cared for by mothers who feel ignorant if they cannot tell their children stories, and who, having an appreciation of their mother English, want their children to hear stories, not only told by themselves rather than by their servants, but also told in the best literary form possible. They recognize that these earliest years, when the child is first learning his language, are the years for a perfection of form to become indelibly impressed. The fairy tale, like every piece of literature, is an organism and "should be put before the youngest child with its head on, and standing on both feet." The wholesale re-telling of every tale is to be deplored. And stories which have proved themselves genuine classics, which have a right to live, which have been handed down by tradition, which have been preserved by folk-lore records, and which have been rescued from oblivion,--in this age of books should have a literary form, which is part of their message, settled upon them. The Grimm tales await their literary master.

III. THE FAIRY TALE AS A SHORT-STORY

The fairy tale, then, which in an objective sense, from the standpoint of literature, has proved itself subject-matter of real worth, must be a classic, must have the qualities of mind and soul, must possess the power to appeal to the emotions, a power to appeal to the imagination, and it must have a basis of truth and a perfection of form. But in addition to possessing these characteristics, because the fairy tale is a special literary form,--the short-story,--as literature it must stand the test of the short-story.

The three main characteristics of the short-story, as given by Professor Brander Matthews in his _Philosophy of the Short-Story_, are originality of theme, ingenuity of invention, and brevity, or compression. A single effect must be conceived, and no more written than contributes to that effect. The story depends for its power and charm on (1) characters; (2) plot; and (3) setting. In _The Life and Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson_, by Graham Balfour, Stevenson has said, concerning the short-story:--

"There are, so far as I know, three ways, and three ways
only, of writing a story. You may take a plot and fit
characters to it, or you may take a character and choose
incidents and situations to develop it, or lastly--you must
bear with me while I try to make this clear.... You may take
a certain atmosphere and get action and persons to express
and realize it. I'll give you an example--_The Merry Men_.
There I began with the feeling of one of those islands on
the west coast of Scotland, and I gradually developed the
story to express the sentiment with which the coast affected
me."

According to the method by which the story was made, the emphasis will be on character, plot, or setting. Sometimes you may have a perfect blending of all three.

(1) Characters. The characters must be unique and original, so that they catch the eye at once. They dare not be colorless, they must have striking experiences. The Elephant's Child, Henny Penny, Medio Pollito, Jack of the Beanstalk, the Three Pigs, the Three Bears, and Drakesbill--the characters of the fairy tales have no equal in literature for freshness and vivacity. The very mention of the thought brings a smile of recognition; and it is for this reason, no doubt, that leading men in large universities turn aside from their high scholarly labors, to work or play with fairy tales. Besides the interesting chief characters, moreover, there are many more subordinate characters that are especially unique: the fairies, the fairy godmothers and wise women, the elves of the trees, the dwarfs of the ground, the trolls of the rocks and hills, and the giants and witches. Then that great company of toilers in every occupation of life bring the child in touch with many novel phases of life. At best we are all limited by circumstances to a somewhat narrow sphere and like to enter into all that we are not. The child, meeting in his tale the shoemaker, the woodcutter, the soldier, the fisherman, the hunter, the poor traveler, the carpenter, the prince, the princess, and a host of others, gets a view of the industrial and social conditions that man in simple life had to face. This could not fail to interest; and it not only broadens his experience and deepens his sympathy, but is the best means for acquiring a foundation upon which to build his own vocational training. This acquisition is one contribution of literature to industrial work. Those characters will appeal to the child which present what the child has noticed or can notice. They should appear as they do in life, by what they say and by what they do. This, in harmony with the needs of the young child, makes the tales which answer to the test of suitability, largely dramatic.

(2) Plot. The characters of the tales can be observed only in action. Plot is the synthesis of the actions, all the incidents which happen to the characters. The plot gives the picture of experience and allows us to see others through the events which come to them. According to Professor Bliss Perry, the plot should be entertaining, comical, novel, or thrilling. It should present images that are clear-cut and not of too great variety. It should easily separate itself into large, leading episodes that stand out distinctly. The sequence of events should be orderly and proceed without interruption. The general structure should easily be discerned into the beginning, the middle, and the end. Various writers of tales have their particular ways of beginning. Andersen loses no time in getting started, while Kipling begins by stating his theme. The old tales frequently began with the words, "Once upon a time," which Kipling modified to "In the High and Far-Off times, O Best Beloved," etc. Hawthorne begins variously with "Once upon a time", or, "Long, long ago"; or, "Did you ever hear of the golden apples?" etc.--Hawthorne has been omitted in this book because, so far as I can discover, he furnishes no tale for the kindergarten or first grade. His simplest tale, _Midas and the Golden_ _Touch_, properly belongs in the second grade when told; when read, in the fourth grade.--The introduction, in whatever form, should be simple and to the point. It should give the time and place and present the characters; and if good art it will be impatient of much preliminary delay. The great stories all show a rise of interest culminating in one central climax; and after that, sometimes following on its very heels, the conclusion where poetic justice is meted out. This climax is a very important feature in the tale, so important that it has been said, "The climax is the tale." It is the point where interest focuses. It makes the story because it is where the point of the story is made. In a good story this point always is made impressive and often is made so by means of surprise. The conclusion must show that the tale has arrived at a stopping place and in a moral tale it must leave one satisfied, at rest.

If the folk-tale is good narration, in answer to the question, "What?" it will tell what happened; in answer to the question, "Who?" it will tell to whom it happened; in answer to the question, "Where?" it will tell the place where, and the time when, it happened; and in answer to the question, "Why?" it will give the reason for telling the story, it will give the message, and the truth embodied in its form. As narration the tale must have truth, interest, and consistency. Its typical mood must be action and its language the language of suggestion. This language of suggestion appears when it shows an object by indicating how it is like something else; by telling what we feel when we see the object; and by telling what actions of the person or object make it hateful or charming. We learn to know Andersen's Snow Man through what the Dog says of him.

Description, in the sense of a static, detailed delineation of various qualities of objects, has no place in the child's story, for it bores the child, who is very persistent in wanting the main theme uninterrupted. But description that has touches of movement and action or that lays emphasis on a single effect and has point, distinctly aids visualization, and produces a pleasing result, as we have seen in Kipling's _Elephant's Child_. The young child of to-day, trained in nature study to look upon bird, tree, and flower with vital interest, to observe the color and the form of these, gains a love of the beautiful that makes him exclaim over the plumage of a bird or tint of a flower. To him beauty in the tale must make a direct appeal which the child unfamiliar with these things might not feel. _The Wonderful Adventures of Nils_ makes an appeal to the modern child which could not possibly have been felt by the child living before 1850. The modern child brought up on phonics is sensitive to sound also, and open to an appreciation of the beauty of the individual word used in description. This description, when it occurs, should be characterized mainly by aptness and concreteness.

Having observed the general characteristics of the narrative contained in the plot, let us examine the structure of a few tales to see: What is the main theme of the plot and how it works itself out; what are the large, leading episodes, and how they culminate in the climax; and what is the conclusion, and how closely it follows the climax.

_The Story of Three Pigs_

I. _Introduction_. Time. Place. Characters: Mother and
Three Pigs. Mother gone.

II. _Rise_.

1. First Pig's venture with a man with a load of straw.
Builds a straw house. (Wolf enters.)
Wolf comes and destroys him.

2. Second Pig's venture with a man with a load of furze.
Builds a furze house.
Wolf comes and destroys him.

3. Third Pig's venture with a man with a load of bricks.
Builds a brick house.
Wolf comes. (Climax.)

III. _Conclusion_. Third Pig outwits the Wolf.
At the turnip-field in Mr. Smith's home-field.
At the apple tree in Merry-Garden.
At the fair at Shanklin.
At his own brick house.

Evidently the climax here is when the Wolf comes to the third Pig's brick house. After that things take a turn; and the final test of strength and cleverness comes at the very end of the tale, at Little Pig's brick house.

Grimm's _Briar Rose_ is a model of structure and easily separates itself into ten large episodes.

_Briar Rose_

1. _The Introduction_.

2. The Christening Feast.
(a) The Fairies and their gifts.
(b) The wicked Fairy and her curse.

3. The King's decree.

4. Princess Rose's birthday.
(a) Princess Rose's visit to the old tower.
(b) Princess Rose and the wicked Fairy spinning.
(c) The magic sleep.

5. The hedge of briars.

6. The Prince and the old Man.

7. The Prince and the opening hedge.

8. The Prince in the castle. (Climax.)

9. The awakening.

10. The wedding. (Conclusion.)

The climax here is the Prince's awakening kiss. The blossoming of the hedge into roses prepares for the climax; and the conclusion--the awakening of all the life of the castle and the wedding--follow immediately after.

(3) Setting. The third element of the short-story that is essential to its power and charm is setting. The setting is the circumstances or events which surround the characters and action. The setting occupies a much more important place in the tale than we realize, for it is the source of a variety of sensations and feelings which it may arouse. It gives the poetic or artistic touch to a tale. In the old tale the setting is given often in a word or two which act like magic, to open to our eyes a whole vision of associations. The road in the _Three Pigs_, the wood in _Red Riding Hood_, the castle in the _Sleeping Beauty_--these add charm. Often the transformation in setting aids greatly in producing effect. In _Cinderella_ the scene shifts from the hearth to the palace ballroom; in the _Princess and the Pea_, from the comfortable castle of the Queen to the raging storm, and then back again to the castle, to the breakfast-room on the following morning. In _Snow White and Rose Red_ the scene changes from the cheery, beautiful interior of the cottage, to the snowstorm from which the Bear emerged. In accumulative tales, such as _The Old Woman and her Pig_, _Medio Pollito_, and _The Robin's Christmas Song_, the sequence of the story itself is preserved mainly by the change of setting. This appears in the following outline of _The Robin's Christmas Song_, an English tale which is the same as the Scotch _Robin's Yule-Song_, which has been attributed to Robert Burns. This tale illustrates one main line of sequence:--

_The Robin's Christmas Song_

1. _Introduction_. A sunny morning. Waterside. A Gray Pussy.
A Robin came along.

2. _Rise_.

Pussy said, ... "See my white fur."

Robin replied, ... "You ate the wee mousie."

_Change in setting_. Stone wall on border of the wood. A
greedy Hawk, sitting.

Hawk said, ... "See the speckled feather in my wing."

Robin replied, ... "You pecked the sparrow," etc.

_Change in setting_. Great rock. A sly Fox.

Fox said, "See the spot on my tail."

Robin replied, "You bit the wee lambie."

_Change in setting_. Banks of a rivulet. A small Boy.

Boy said, "See the crumbs in my pocket."

Robin replied, "You caught the goldfinch."

_Change in setting_. King's palace. The window sill. The
King at the window.

Robin sang, "A song for the King."

King replied, "What shall we give Robin?"

3. _Conclusion_.

_No change in setting_. King's palace. The window sill.
The King at the window.

King Filled a plate and set it on the window sill.

Robin Ate, sang a song again, and flew away.

Here, not only the sequence of the tale is held largely by the change in setting, but also the pleasure in the tale is due largely to the setting, the pictures of landscape beauty it presents, and the feelings arising from these images.

A Japanese tale, in which the setting is a large part of the tale, and a large element of beauty, is _Mezumi, the Beautiful_, or _The Rat Princess_.

A Grimm tale in which the setting is a very large element of pleasure and in which it preserves the sequence of the tale, is _The Spider and the Flea_, a lively accumulative tale that deserves attention for several reasons.--A Spider and a Flea dwelt together. One day a number of unusual occurrences happened, so that finally a little Girl with a water-pitcher broke it, and then the Streamlet from which she drew the water asked, "Why do you break your pitcher, little Girl?" And she replied:--

The little Spider's burned herself.
And the Flea weeps;
The little Door creaks with the pain,
And the Broom sweeps;
The little Cart runs on so fast,
And the Ashes burn;
The little Tree shakes down its leaves.
Now it is my turn!

And then the Streamlet said, "Now I must flow."

And it flowed on and on, getting bigger and bigger, until it swallowed up the little Girl, the little Tree, the Ashes, the Cart, the Broom, the Door, the Flea, and at last, the Spider--all together.