45
do so, Musäus in his
Volksmarchen der Deutschen
, and the Grimms’ in their
Kinder- und
Hausmarchen
(Children’s and Household Tales). However, these versions assume vastly
different forms, and, as a result, speak to different audiences. This, I argue, is part of the
reason that both versions remain
critically relevant
Snow White
precursors, yet it also
eliminates “Richilda’s” opportunity to be viewed as a “classic” in the way that the
Grimms’ version is understood.
Even though “Richilda”
stands as representative of cultural character, its novelette
form restricts its ability to be positioned a classic
Snow White
fairy tale variant in the way
that the Grimms’ “Sneewittchen” or even Basile’s “The Young Slave” are considered to
be. Blamires points to the “misleading” nature of the title
of the larger work even
[
Volksmahrchen der Deutschen
(Folktales of the Germans)], “since what Musäus wrote
were decidedly literary tales, more like short novels or romances in terms of length,
rational and satirical in tone, minimizing or excising everything to do with magic or the
supernatural” (
Telling Tales
52). In sorting out this difference concerning literary form
and of folk narrative versus fairy tale specifically, Andrew
Teverson uses Steven Swann
Jones’ taxonomy of folk narratives, wherein “the fairy tale, like other folk narratives,
employs ‘ordinary protagonists to address issues of everyday life’” (Jones qtd. in
Teverson 29). By this definition, Musäus has indeed still produced a folk narrative and
fairy tale. However, in its “realistic setting” with its “specified time and place,”
Teverson’s definitions position the tale closer to Blamires’, where the
narrative would be
understood as a novelle or novelette (Teverson 28).
46
This literary distinction or division of “Richilda” from the fairy tale form extends
still further, into the work’s failure to “
depict magical or marvellous events or
phenomena as a valid part of human experience
” (Jones qtd. in Teverson 29). There is
no miraculous conception by which the beautiful Blanca (Snow White) comes to be.
Further, Richilda’s (the step-mother’s) mirror is a work of alchemy—part scientific and
part religious—which will “represent every thing concerning which [she] enquire[s] in
distinct speaking images” (“Richilda” 10). Despite the phrasing here,
the images
alone
speak for themselves. In other words, the mirror does not respond through spoken
language, but through silent images. Although images other than Richilda, herself,
appear in the mirror, at times, the magical or marvelous quality of a mirror that responds
verbally is absent. Finally, and
perhaps most significantly, when the Countess intends to
do away with Blanca, she does not employ witchcraft, but consults Sambul, the court
physician to generate poisons for her. Ronald Murphy finds that through this exchange,
of “turning [Blanca’s] apparent death
into a medically induced sleep, Musäus makes the
moment of crisis in the narrative fully responsive to reason and avoids any real need for
supernatural agency to overcome death” (115). Here especially, it is not an insignificant
component of the tale where the magic has been minimized. It is the crux of the tale.
Logic and rationale displace the marvelous in each of these ways, thereby further
distinguishing “Richilda” from the fairy tales of Basile and the Grimms. Where the
magical or marvelous can be found in both Basile’s and the Grimms texts—in their
miraculous births,
growing caskets, talking dolls and mirrors, and witchcraft— Musäus
narrative tones down or mutes these elements entirely.
47
Other portions of the tale are also rationalized, but with a more satirical slant. For
example, there is an extended bit of narration about the fickleness of men’s romantic
passions, which are described as a medical affectation of royal inbreeding. Here, Musäus
takes pains to describe a man’s conscience “as delicate, sore, and ticklish, as the
membrane called the
Dostları ilə paylaş: