FROM OLD WIVES' TALES TO WORK FICTION
In early
cultures like the Greek or the Egyptian, the stories served to explain the
world, natural phenomena and social norms. There wasn’t a distinction between
the mythical, the legendary and the real. This will be a process that will take
many centuries, when philosophy and science begin to draw this barrier.
The
ancient history of the short story is very long and it refers to an oral
tradition that survives through scattered fragments that are difficult to
trace. There are Egyptian papyri, in the Bible, in the Iliad and the Odyssey or
the Arabian Nights.
These
short stories told from generation to generation and shared by many cultures
only be appreciated well into the eighteenth century by the work of folklorists
like the brothers Grimm and later by romanticism. At first moment they were
seen as wisdom, but then will become part of the literature.
The
nineteenth century is the golden age of the sort history. In the U.S. and
Europe, for the mass of readership, magazines and newspapers begin to need
short literary texts but of value, exceeding the delivery model of novels by
chapters. That was when the short story begins to grow as a literary genre,
transcending beyond popular stories collected by the Brothers Grimm, Charles
Perrault or Andrew Lang and converted into fairy tales for children.
Next one is a tale from Charles Perrault's book: Mother Goose Tales
LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD
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| Little red riding hood, Carl Offterdinger, end of the XIX century. |
Once upon a time there lived in a certain village a little
country girl, the prettiest creature who was ever seen. Her mother was
excessively fond of her; and her grandmother doted on her still more. This good
woman had a little red riding hood made for her. It suited the girl so
extremely well that everybody called her Little Red Riding Hood.
One day her mother, having made some cakes, said to her, "Go, my dear, and see how your grandmother is doing, for I hear she has been very ill. Take her a cake, and this little pot of butter."
Little Red Riding Hood set out immediately to go to her grandmother, who lived in another village.
As she was going through the wood, she met with a wolf, who had a very great mind to eat her up, but he dared not, because of some woodcutters working nearby in the forest. He asked her where she was going. The poor child, who did not know that it was dangerous to stay and talk to a wolf, said to him, "I am going to see my grandmother and carry her a cake and a little pot of butter from my mother."
"Does she live far off?" said the wolf
"Oh I say," answered Little Red Riding Hood; "it is beyond that mill you see there, at the first house in the village."
"Well," said the wolf, "and I'll go and see her too. I'll go this way and go you that, and we shall see who will be there first."
The wolf ran as fast as he could, taking the shortest path, and the little girl took a roundabout way, entertaining herself by gathering nuts, running after butterflies, and gathering bouquets of little flowers. It was not long before the wolf arrived at the old woman's house. He knocked at the door: tap, tap.
"Who's there?"
"Your grandchild, Little Red Riding Hood," replied the wolf, counterfeiting her voice; "who has brought you a cake and a little pot of butter sent you by mother."
The good grandmother, who was in bed, because she was somewhat ill, cried out, "Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up."
The wolf pulled the bobbin, and the door opened, and then he immediately fell upon the good woman and ate her up in a moment, for it been more than three days since he had eaten. He then shut the door and got into the grandmother's bed, expecting Little Red Riding Hood, who came some time afterwards and knocked at the door: tap, tap.
"Who's there?"
Little Red Riding Hood, hearing the big voice of the wolf, was at first afraid; but believing her grandmother had a cold and was hoarse, answered, "It is your grandchild Little Red Riding Hood, who has brought you a cake and a little pot of butter mother sends you."
The wolf cried out to her, softening his voice as much as he could, "Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up."
Little Red Riding Hood pulled the bobbin, and the door opened.
The wolf, seeing her come in, said to her, hiding himself under the bedclothes, "Put the cake and the little pot of butter upon the stool, and come get into bed with me."
Little Red Riding Hood took off her clothes and got into bed. She was greatly amazed to see how her grandmother looked in her nightclothes, and said to her, "Grandmother, what big arms you have!"
"All the better to hug you with, my dear."
"Grandmother, what big legs you have!"
"All the better to run with, my child."
"Grandmother, what big ears you have!"
"All the better to hear with, my child."
"Grandmother, what big eyes you have!"
"All the better to see with, my child."
"Grandmother, what big teeth you have got!"
"All the better to eat you up with."
And, saying these words, this wicked wolf fell upon Little Red Riding Hood, and ate her all up.
Moral: Children, especially attractive, well bred young ladies, should never talk to strangers, for if they should do so, they may well provide dinner for a wolf. I say "wolf," but there are various kinds of wolves. There are also those who are charming, quiet, polite, unassuming, complacent, and sweet, who pursue young women at home and in the streets. And unfortunately, it is these gentle wolves who are the most dangerous ones of all.
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