Cinderella I
First up for funny fairytale analysis: Cinderella. The OG version, French, seventeenth century. Cendrillon. Let’s dive in.
Fair warning: we’re going to start out by being not so pro-Cinderella’s father.
We begin with a happy family that is happy no longer. The dad’s remarrying, and his second wife seems like she’s precisely the sort of woman destined to … neither be super happy in a marriage nor make Cinderella’s dad super happy as her partner? Author Charles Perrault (hereafter CP, or Charles, or Chaz, depending on how snazzy we’re feeling) describes her as the “proudest and most haughty woman that was ever seen.” I mean, we’ve seen this turn out okay (ahem, Elizabeth and Darcy) but this is a Perrault fairy tale, and we don’t have Jane Austen’s precise character work to help us, unfortunately.
CP quickly makes it clear that Cinderella (for those unfamiliar: the daughter of the guy in the above paragraph/protag of CP’s ‘Cinderella’) gets her angelic temperament from her no-longer-around mother. (I’d also like to note that the CP OG story doesn’t start out by saying that Cinderella’s mother died. How common were divorce and polygamy whenever this story is set?)
Wait. [SHOVES ASIDE PARENTHESES] When was this story set? [TIPPITY TAPS ON KEYBOARD]
Okay, so, it’s the other tale as old as time.
There are Chinese and Greek versions of the Cinderella story which go back to the 9th and 6th century BC. (Stay tuned for a future post deep-diving into the history of this tale.) The story that we know best was pubbed in 1697 by CP, who was really just the first guy to take an existing story people were already telling their kids and give it some literary legitimacy.
So. We’re talking seventeenth century mores, here. Divorce became a thing in France in September of 1792 (for the first time)….so, Cinderella’s father, prob not a divorcee, likely a widower. And he was suuuuuper into his first wife, per Chaz’s third sentence. Charles Perrault does not tread lightly into story.
So why did he remarry? Did he need a wife for social status? The Stepmom almost definitely did, as a presumably single woman with two adult daughters.
It was probably a mutual thing. Moving on….
Aha, okay. Shortly after their wedding, “the stepmother’s bad temper began to show itself.” So CP was being all 3rd person omniscient with his description earlier, and the father was maybe very sad and quite lonely and saw a beautiful woman who was acting nice and said, “well, fine.” And she! She’s a very good actress, probably, depending on how much the father was paying attention.
(Now I’m not being very nice re: the Stepmom, but we knew that was coming.)
“Good actress” is about where Stepmom’s positive character traits end. She’s not particularly great at awareness. “Cinderella makes my own daughters look awful,” she says, screeching into her first line of (paraphrased) dialogue. “Cinderella must pay!”
Honestly: what threat did Cinderella (whose only character trait thus far is “Very Nice”) pose to her daughters? We don’t even know that she’s beautiful yet. (We do know that she’s exactly like her mother, who is ‘the best creature in the world’.) Actually, we’ve also learned something: Genetics be damned, women are all carbon copies of their moms. Excuse me while I go faint and rip up my science degree.
Although – I wonder if that was a product of the times – finishing schools and etc, and moms inevitably raising their daughters the way they thought best – or the father/CP just, you know, thinking that that’s the case; because I don’t imagine that in 17th century France women were allowed much individuality. Except for the Stepmom maybe? Because she’s the only one who’s showing any sort of motive or personality or agency, as she moves in to Cinderella’s father’s house and redecorates and makes Cinderella be the scullery maid.
“She employed her in the meanest work of the house...the poor girl bore it patiently."
Cendrillon, by Charles Perrault. (tr. Andrew Lang)
There’s something a bit classist or whatever in CP talking about how horrible Cinderella’s lot was. I mean, I get that it’s a fall from what she’s used to, but he talks for a while about how she has to live in the ATTIC on a “WRETCHED STRAW BED.” I imagine that a straw bed in a garret would have been really good for a lot of people back then. The majority of people in seventeenth century France had it rough.
Pan downstairs to the stepsister’s room, and what do we find? “Beds of the very newest fashion.” Lol, we haven’t gotten any clothing or beauty or real story progress, but six sentences into the tale, we do know that the stepsisters are snoozing on the very latest in mattress technology. I wonder what their SleepNumbers are.
Cinderella “bore it all patiently.” But wait! that’s not her name yet. It’s implied that the older and far less PC stepsister called Cinderella “Cinderwench” (what on earth would be the equivalent today? ‘ashslut’?), but the far more woke younger stepsister was like, nah, sis, let’s use her actual name – it’s classier. I assume, we don’t exactly get Cinderella’s real name in the OG story.
“It happened that the king’s son was giving a ball.”
Cendrillon, by Charles Perrault (tr. Andrew Lang)
Ooh, look, an invitation. So fun to get mail. CP only says that the king’s son invited fashionable people to his party. Unclear as to what constitutes fashion. Are we talking about those who can afford orthopedic mattresses? Just saying, because as far as internal story foreshadowing goes, that’s the only fashion that’s been mentioned. I assume, though, that this means “rich, and predominantly people who wear a lot of nontorn fabric sewn into dress shapes by nonmice.” (Ed. Note: my knowledge of the movie might be showing here)
Also gonna point out: Unless the king’s son (the prince? Unclear how succession works in 750 word story) has a staff who puts together guest lists and things for him, he’s kind of a dweeb. Can you imagine? “Send out this invite to all the land, but only include those people whose beds can go up and down at the push of a button, or possibly those who employ human tailors.” ELITIST MUCH? (also I may be just being sore because I wouldn’t be invited by those standards)
Oh, no, Charles. He goes on to say that “our young misses were invited.” Um. Hey, CP. Why are you aligning yourself with the antagonists of your fairy tale?
“For they cut a very grand figure among those of quality.”
Cendrillon, by Charles Perrault (tr. Andrew Lang)
Charles, you son of a
Okay. The conversation between Cinderella and the stepsisters then takes a turn for the … something. “I will wear my suit, the one with the French trimming,” says the eldest. Hey, girl. You live in France (presumably). That’s not as cool as your capitalization means it to be. Unless maybe it’s a shop local initiative? In which case, wow, girl is ahead of her time! (Cue Joseph/go go dancers.) But this is coming from the eldest, and we know that she’s “uncivil”. So she’s probably just boasting?
The younger and considerably more hip sister has a comeback, obvi. But she only has her usual petticoat to wear—alas. Does she know how to make up for that, though? You bet. She’s got a “gold-flowered cloak” to wear, along with her “diamond stomacher.” Q: What’s a stomacher? A: It’s a necklace. For your neck. (I suppose calling it a ‘necker’ wouldn’t have been classy enough for the very civil younger sister.) But then, the first Google image for ‘diamond stomacher’ is a shot of QEII rocking one, so the younger sister is in very good, if posthumous, company.
The – best – thing to happen with this story, though, something that already validates my obsession with weird OG stories, is the commentary the younger sister offers up about her stomach necklace. “It is far from being the most ordinary one in the world, she says—of her diamond necklace. I love that that’s the best thing she can say about it, and I will be stealing this line to use every hour of every day for the rest of my life.
- My husband: “How was your day?” [DRAMATIC SIGH] “It was far from being the most ordinary one in the world.”
- Prospective agents: “Okay, sell us your book.” [HANDS ON HIPS, TRIUMPHANT LAUGH] “Well, it’s far from being the most ordinary one in the world.”
- Future child: “Mom, tell me about your wedding day.” [SITS CHILD DOWN, ASSUMES FAR-OFF LOOK, SMILES CRYPTICALLY] “It was far from being the most ordinary one in the world.”
Which is as good a place as any to leave this for next time.
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