Last month I translated a medieval fairytale (well, fairytale sensu lato: the supernatural occurrences are only tricks of the trickster hero) and gave you a preface on its more well-known variations from the Romantic period, the Golden Age of Fairytales. However, there are a few differences between the medieval One-Ox, on one hand, and, on the other, Andersen's Little Klaus and Big Klaus and the Grimms' The Little Farmer, both meant for the Victorian nursery.
After the French Revolution and the Victorian Industrial Revolutions, a nursery culture developed distinct from that of bourgeois adults. Hallmarks of the ancien régime high society such as sweets, having a sweet tooth, dressing in bright colours, toys, games, gift giving, holidays, and even fairytales went from being associated with the courtly society of the eighteenth century to being associated with children and the nursery in the Victorian era, because children were the most powerless members of Victorian bourgeois society, while adults dressed in dark colours, especially in black (except for the military and servants, some of which even wore powdered wigs!) and drank bitter beverages like coffee (on the mainland) and tea (in the British Empire). The point in which teenagers switched from hot chocolate to tea or coffee and started wearing ladies' gowns or gentlemens' suits was treated as a solemn coming-of-age ceremony at which the freshly-become adult cast aside all childish things (these facts I took from Schivelbusch's Tastes of Paradise!).
Romanticism also idealized childhood, like it idealized provincial/rural living and native tribes, believing all of these collectives to be more innocent than corrupt bourgeois society. This led to the movement's interest in folklore and traditions: crafts, holiday traditions, superstitions, and especially fairytales. While the Grimms gathered märchen from the folk, whether one of the brothers' Huguenot (French Protestant) wife or simple country folk, most of Andersen's tales (inspired by Hoffmann's works, for instance The Nutcracker, by Fouqué's Undine, etc.) were literary, though some of them, like The Little Mermaid or The Snow Queen, also contain folklore and mythological elements. And then you have Andersen's witty renditions of folktales from his childhood, your Princess on the Pea, your Emperor's New Clothes, and Andersen's own take on One-Ox, Little Klaus and Big Klaus. The Grimms' folk version, The Little Farmer, is quite similar to Little Klaus, and both tricksters' names hint at their poverty, just like One-Ox's itself. All three stories feature the same skeleton, from the trickster taking the hide of his only ox (horse in Andersen) to market - to his enemies (three of them in One-Ox: the Mayor, the Priest, and the Sheriff - only one in the Romantic versions: the Mayor in Grimm and the landowner Big Klaus in Andersen) drowning themselves after they swallow the lie that the trickster got all his pigs (sheep in Grimm) from an underwater realm. The story skeleton is Tale Type 1535.
So far we have seen the first differences, some animals change species (One-Ox's and Little Farmer's only ox becomes Little Klaus' only horse; the "aquatic" pigs acquired by One-Ox and Little Klaus become "aquatic" sheep in the Grimm version), and the trickster goes from having three enemies in One-Ox (Mayor, Priest, and Sheriff) to only one in the Romantic versions: the Mayor in Grimm and the landowner Big Klaus in Andersen.
But there are more differences - notably, that the Romantic versions erase all the scatological (pee and poop) elements that would have been seen as disgusting in the Victorian nursery. For starters, the way One-Ox acquires his silver treasure while taking his hide to market, at the start of the story. In the medieval One-Ox, he finds the treasure while tearing up a tuft of grass to wipe his bottom after relieving himself:
Luck smiles upon him
as he enters the thick forest;
while relieving himself,
he discovers a silver treasure.
As he seeks to wipe his bottom,
tearing fistfuls of grass,
under a tuffet, he finds
what greedy people love the most.
He uncovers three bags full
of silver coins, hidden in the grass,
and soon his saddle-bag
is brimming with wealth.
In the Romantic versions, the trickster acquires his treasure in a completely different manner. En route to market, a storm forces him to take shelter in a windmill where the miller is away and his wife lets the trickster (Little Klaus or the Little Farmer) sleep in the loft and eat simple peasant fare (bread and butter in Grimm, porridge in Andersen). Suddenly there is a knock on the door and the wife's lover (the local priest in Grimm, the bellringer --the man who rings the church bells-- in Andersen) enters the mill. The wife greets him with lots of hugs and kisses and sweet words (this is a nursery tale, but the kids will be reading between the lines), producing a roast beef from inside the oven and a cake from under the bed, after which wife and lover sit down to the feast. When suddenly the wife hears the husband approaching, she hides the roast back in the oven, the cake back under the bed, and her lover in the cupboard. The miller asks his wife what's for lunch (supper in Andersen), and she offers him the same peasant fare she has offered the trickster (bread and butter in Grimm, porridge in Andersen). But of course the trickster, from the loft, has been watching the wife's love affairs and knows that there's something going on... Suddenly the hide the trickster has been taking to market (in Andersen) squeaks, or his pet crow (in Grimm) squawks, and the trickster says he has a genie in his hide (a very smart crow in Grimm), whose "words" he will be glad to "translate:" in that manner, the husband learns of the roast beef in the oven and the cake under the bed, at which point miller, wife, and trickster sit down to eat the roast and the cake (instead of porridge, or bread and butter), but the crow squawks/the hide squeaks a third time, at which point the trickster says that what his genie/crow is saying is a very dark secret that should not be known. The husband insists, and the trickster says that there's a devil (monster in more bowdlerized versions) inside the cupboard... still the miller is curious, and the trickster opens the cupboard to reveal the lover. Here Andersen says that the husband had a phobia of bellringers, but he is equally frightened in both the Andersen and Grimm versions - suggesting, though not explaining, since this is a nursery tale, that he had a suspicion that his wife was having an affair with the priest/bellringer. The trickster has to take the lover away, and it is the lover who gives him all that silver (gold in Andersen) as a reward:
Grimm:
Then the wife had to give up the keys (to the cabinet), and the Little Farmer unlocked the cabinet. The priest ran out as fast as he could, and the miller said, " I saw the Black Fellow (devil/monster, actually his wife's lover) with my own eyes. It was true."
The next morning at crack of dawn the Little Farmer quickly made off the with the three hundred talers (silver coins), which the priest gave him.
At home the Little Farmer gradually began to prosper. He built a nicer house, and the villagers said, "The Little Farmer has certainly been to the place where golden snow falls and people carry money home by the bushel."
Andersen:
The miller (husband) opened the cabinet a very little way, and peeped in.
“Oh,” cried he, springing backwards, “I saw him (devil/monster), and he is exactly like our bellringer! How dreadful it is!” So after that he was obliged to drink again, and they sat and drank (alcohol) till far into the night.
“You must sell your genie to me,” said the miller; “ask as much as you like, I will pay it; indeed I would give you directly a whole bushel of gold.”
“No, indeed, I cannot,” said Little Claus; “only think how much profit I could make out of this genie.”
“But I should like to have him,” said the husband, still continuing his entreaties.
“Well,” said Little Claus at length, “you have been so good as to give me a night’s lodging, I will not refuse you; you shall have the genie for a whole bushel of money, but I will have quite full measure.”
“So you shall,” said the husband; “but you must take away the cabinet as well. I would not have it in the house another hour; there is no knowing if he may not be still there.”
So Little Claus gave the miller the sack containing the dried horse’s hide, and received in exchange a bushel of gold—full measure. The husband also gave him a wheelbarrow on which to carry away the cabinet and the gold.
“Farewell,” said Little Claus, as he went off with his money and the great cabinet, in which the wife's lover lay still concealed. On the other side of the forest was a broad, deep river, the water flowed so rapidly that very few were able to swim against the stream. A new bridge had lately been built across it, and in the middle of this bridge Little Claus stopped, and said, loud enough to be heard by the bellringer, “Now what shall I do with this stupid chest; it is as heavy as if it were full of stones: I shall be tired if I roll it any further, so I may as well throw it in the river; if it swims after me to my house, well and good, and if not, it will not much matter.”
So he seized the cabinet in his hands and lifted it up a little, as if he were going to throw it into the water.
“No, leave it alone,” cried the bellringer from inside the cabinet; “let me out first.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Little Claus, pretending to be frightened, “he is in there still, is he? I must throw him into the river, that he may be drowned.”
“Oh, no; oh, no,” cried the bellringer; “I will give you a whole bushel full of gold, if you will let me go.”
“Why, that is another matter,” said Little Claus, opening the cabinet. The bellringer crept out, pushed the empty chest into the water, and went to his house, then he measured out a whole bushelful of gold for Little Claus, who had already received one from the miller, so that now he had two bushels, a wheelbarrow full.
Similarly, the whole episode about the silver-pooping mare in One-Ox is absent in both Andersen and Grimm:
The once-poor One-Ox
grabs a handful of his silver,
and succeeds to trick the armed host.
He draws his mare from the stables,
lifts her tail quite high,
and shoves all the silver coins
into the mare's rectum.
He makes the horse stand
in the middle of his cottage,
and then spreads
a white linen over her back.
His three enemies,
standing outside, threatening him,
witness a miraculous event.
Standing on the threshold,
they want to kill One-Ox,
yet they're all frozen in place,
surprised by the new event.
They observe One-Ox
working over some silver;
as he rubs the mare's flanks,
he brings forth a great sum.
"What is this, One-Ox!?
Why is this beast clearly
producing so much silver for you,
and astounding the three of us?"
One-Ox replies cautiously:
"See all these silver coins?
This beast's intestines produce
silver in lieu of worthless dung.
Every night she pours out
such sums, such high amounts,
that Cybele, Queen of Money,
is surely enthroned upon her anus."
Once the trio have seen the money
and heard the story,
their anger instantly abates
and they say to One-Ox:
"Enjoy your good fortune
and sell us this precious beast!
If so, we will end our feud
once we've bought these swollen flanks!"
One-Ox, full of tricks,
replies to the trio of friends:
"It's not easy to give away
such a source of wealth for free.
There's a wonderful treasure
inside the belly of this beast;
surely, for bestowing such gifts,
she is not exactly cheap."
"If you wish to delight yourself
further in your great fortune,
dear One-Ox, no longer tarry
selling this mare to us!"
The crafty One-Ox replies
to the three nincompoops:
"I'll sell you three my noble beast,
but not at a small price.
You've seen what she has produced,
how much silver she has showered.
If you want coffers full of silver,
you have to pay the price!
Give me fifteen pounds sterling,
if you may be so kind.
In a short time, she will repay your debt
in cash instead of excrement."
After paying One-Ox
the fifteen pounds sterling,
the trio lead the mare
with a rope for a leash,
greedily guarding her.
The Priest speaks eagerly:
"You two must listen to me!
I want to be the first
to lead this beast into my stables!
Since I am the first in the parish church,
I shall have the mare first.
At dawn I'll collect the fifteen pounds
that I owe One-Ox.
I shall have her the first night,
you, Sheriff, the second,
and you, Mayor, the third,
according to the scales of equity."
"So mote it be," says the Sheriff.
"So mote it be," replies the Mayor.
"This is a gentlemen's agreement.
Let us be patient."
(All three men only get "horse-apples" from the mare, leading them, in their fury, to try to assassinate One-Ox. This episode is entirely absent in both Andersen and Grimm!)
For this same reason, the most scatological fairytales in Basile's Pentamerone, like The Cockroach, the Rat, and the Cricket, were never translated into English in the Victorian era, and were only Englished first in the twentieth century, when sensibilities had changed and it was understood that children actually like (even love) toilet humour (like in Captain Underpants, some Swedish Bellman jokes, Bart Simpson's humour, and nowadays every DreamWorks film has to contain at least one scatological gag - no surprise that DreamWorks adapted Captain Underpants!).
