THE REAL RED RIDING HOOD

Little Red Riding Hood by Jessie Willcox Smith, 1911. From the book A Child’s Book of Stories. (Public domain via Wikipedia Commons)

Achille Millien (1838-1927) was a French poet with a strong interest in folklore. Around 1885 he collected ‘The Grandmother’s Story’ from the brothers Briffflaut in the central French department of Nievre. The tale they told was a rustic version of Red Riding Hood, without the hood but with the sexual and cannibalistic undertones of a folk tale rather than a fairy tale:

There was a woman who had made some bread. She said to her daughter: “Go carry this hot loaf and bottle of milk to your granny.”

So the little girl departed. At the crossway she met bzou, the werewolf, who said to her: “Where are you going?”

“I’m taking this hot loaf and bottle of milk to my granny.”

“What path are you taking.” said the werewolf, “the path of needles or the path of pins?”

“The path of needles,” the little girl said.

“All right, then I’ll take the path of pins.”

The little girl entertained herself by gathering needles.

Meanwhile the werewolf arrived at the grandmother’s house, killed her, and put some of her meat in the cupboard and a bottle of her blood on the shelf. The little girl arrived and knocked at the door. 

“Push the door,” said the werewolf, “It’s barred by a piece of wet straw.”

“Good day, granny. I’ve brought you a hot loaf of bread and a bottle of milk.”

“Put it in the cupboard, my child. Take some of the meat which is inside and the bottle of wine on the shelf.”

After she had eaten, there was a little cat which said: “Phooey!… A slut is she who eats the flesh and drinks the blood of her granny.”

“Undress yourself, my child,” the werewolf said, “And come lie down beside me.”

“Where should I put my apron?”

“Throw it into the fire, my child, you won’t be needing it any more.”

And each time she asked where she should put all her other clothes, the bodice, the dress, the petticoat, the long stockings, the wolf responded:

“Throw them into the fire, my child, you won’t be needing  them anymore.”

When she laid herself down in the bed, the little girl said:

“Oh granny, how hairy you are!”

“The better to keep myself warm, my child!”

“Oh granny, what big nails you have!”

“The better to scratch me with, my child!”

“Oh granny, what big shoulders you have!”

“The better to carry the firewood, my child!”

“Oh granny, what big ears you have!”

“The better to hear you with, my child!”

“Oh granny, what big nostrils you have!”

“The better to snuff my tobacco with, my child!”

“Oh granny, what a big mouth you have!”

“The better to eat you with, my child!”

“Oh granny, I have to go badly. Let me go outside.”

“Do it in the bed, my child!”

“Oh no, granny, I want to go outside.”

“All right, but make it quick.”

The werewolf attached a woolen rope to her foot and let her go outside.

When the little girl was outside, she tied the end of the rope to a plum tree in the courtyard. The werewolf became impatient and said: “Are you making a load out there? Are you making a load?”

When he realized that nobody was answering him, he jumped out of bed and saw that the little girl had escaped. He followed her but arrived at her house just at the moment she entered.[i]

The Briffault brothers were master storytellers, as the cliff-hanging ending of this version shows.


[i] Known as ‘The Story of Grandmother’, this was published in Paul Delarue, “Les Contes marveilleux de Perrault et la tradition populaire”, Bulletin Folklorique de l’Ile-de-France 1951, 221-2. See also an Asian/African version, ‘The Wolf and the Seven Kids’, in Maria Tatar, The Classic Fairy Tales: Texts, Criticism, 2nd edn. W W Norton, New York, 2017.

PIED PIPER STILL PIPING

From a window of the Market Church in Hameln/Hamelin Germany (c.1300-1633), thought to be the earliest representation of the legend.
 
A well-known story of German, and now global, tradition is a constant reminder of what might happen if a helper is not properly rewarded for his assistance. The Pied Piper of Hamelin is the ambivalent focus of an enduring medieval legend. In 1284 the town of Hamelin in Saxony is disturbed by a plague of rats. The piper, dressed in motley, hence the term ‘pied’, pipes the rats into the River Weser where they drown. But the people of the town refuse to pay him and so he pipes their children inside Koppenberg Hill, from where they have never emerged. Only one lame child, too slow to keep up with the others, survived.
 
This is the most familiar version of this enigmatic legend today, though its original form, as far as can be known, was a little different. One of the earliest and most significant accounts of the event is the fourteenth century version appearing in the Latin chronicle Catena Aurea (The Golden Chain) and written by a monk known as Heinrich of Hereford. This account has nothing about a plague of rats but simply tells of a handsome and well-dressed young man appearing in the city on the Feast of Saints John and Paul (26 June). He went through the streets playing a magnificent silver pipe, attracting about 130 children to follow him out of the city to the execution ground known as Calvary. There they all vanished without trace. Heinrich gives an earlier written source for this information and also refers to the testimony of an eye-witness relayed to him through the witnesses’ son.
 
As well as the absence of the rats and the reluctance of the townspeople to pay the piper’s fee, there is nothing ‘pied’ about the piper in Heinrich’s version of events, and no children returned. By the mid-1550s, though, an account written in Bamberg elaborated the story with such details as the threat of the piper to return in three hundred years and take more children away and the return of two naked children, one blind and one mute. Another account from around the same period identifies the piper as the devil and the fate of the children a result of God’s retribution for human sin. The return of the one lame child seems to appear first in the English translation made by Richard Verstegan in 1605.
 
The detail of the rat plague is first heard of in the Swabian Zimmer Chronicle of 1565. However, it is known that by this time there were other legends involving rat and mouse-catchers attached to other parts of Europe and it may be that these became mixed with the basic Hamelin story. By whatever and various ways the story evolved, it was already a popular item of print entertainment by the early seventeenth century and, in one version or another, continued to attract the interest of poets like Robert Browning (‘The Pied Piper of Hamelin’, 1842) and of folklorists like the Brothers Grimm as well as carrying on a busy life in oral tradition, including a number of German folksongs.
 
This disturbing legend has attracted a good deal of scholarly speculation through the succeeding centuries. Some suggest the legend is derived from the eastward migrations of young Germanic peoples during the thirteenth century. Others relate the story to the disastrous Children’s Crusade in which many children left their homes, never to return. There are also suggestions that the story is related to the medieval dance epidemic known as ‘St John’s Dance’ or ‘St Vitus’ Dance’ or to a major bubonic plague outbreak. Others have looked to mythological and historical sources for enlightenment and explanation.
 
Whatever its source, the tale has been continually in oral tradition and, later, in literature, theatre, children’s books, advertising, cartoons, political propaganda, films and, of course, in the tourism industry of the city of Hamelin. The many-faceted legend of the Pied Piper is largely due to the ambiguity of the piper’s character, both good and evil, and the ingratitude and stupidity of the burghers of Weser. As well as all the other many uses to which the tradition has been put, in the end it is perhaps primarily an appealing moral tale about just rewards (‘you must pay the piper’s fee’) and being careful about which processions you follow.
 
 

From Graham Seal and Kim Kennedy-White, Folk Heroes and Heroines Around the World