Vladimir Propp - Excerpts (Rough)
Morphology of the Folktale By V. Propp Translated by Laurence Scott With an introduction by Svatava Pirkova-Jakobson
Table of Contents (those highlghted are given below, including the crucial III.)
· Preface to the Second Edition
· Introduction to the Second Edition
· Introduction to the First Edition
· Author's Foreword
· I. On the History of the Problem
· II. The Method and Material
· III. The Functions of Dramatis Personae
· IV. Assimilations: Cases of the Double Morphological Meaning of a Single Function
· V. Some Other Elements of the Tale
o A. Auxiliary Elements for the Interconnection of Functions
o B. Auxiliary Elements in Trebling
o C. Motivations
· VI. The Distribution of Functions Among Dramatis Personae
· VII. Ways in Which New Characters Are Introduced into the Course of Action
· VIII. On the Attributes of Dramatis Personae and their Significance
· IX. The Tale as a Whole
o A. The Ways in Which Stories Are Combined
o B. An Example of Analysis of a Tale
o C. The Problem of Classification
o D. On the Relationship of Particular Forms of Structure to the General Pattern
o E. The Problem of Composition and Theme, and of Themes and Variants
o F. Conclusion
Introduction to the Second Edition
Since the appearance of the English translation of Vladímir Propp's Morphology of the Folktale in 1958, there has been an ever increasing interest in attempting structural analyses of various folklore genres. In view of the enormous impact Propp's study has had on folklorists, linguists, anthropologists, and literary critics, one can only regret that there was a thirty-year time lag between Propp's completion of the Morphology in 1928 and the time that most European and American scholars read it.
The stimulating effect of Propp's seminal ideas is indicated in part by the number of studies it has inspired (Lévi-Strauss 1960, Dundes 1962a, 1964b, Bremond 1964, Greimas 1966b:172-221). To be sure, some of the studies are critical (cf. Taylor 1964), but from the criticism has come even more insight (e.g., Fischer 1963:288-289). Even though the flurry of activity initiated by the publication of Propp's Morphology has really barely begun, some preliminary comments may be made.
First of all, there seem to be at least two distinct types of structural analysis in folklore. One is the type of which Propp's Morphology is the exemplar par excellence. In this type, the structure or formal organization of a folkloristic text is described following the chronological order of the linear sequence of elements in the text as reported from an informant. Thus if a tale consists of elements A to Z, the structure of the tale is delineated in terms of this same sequence. Following Lévi-Strauss (1964: 312), this linear sequential structural analysis we might term "syntagmatic" structural analysis, borrowing from the notion of syntax in the study of language (cf. Greimas 1966a:404). The other type of structural analysis in folklore seeks to describe the pattern (usually based upon an a priori binary principle of opposition) which allegedly underlies the folkloristic text. This pattern is not the same as the sequential structure at all. Rather the elements are taken out of the "given" order and are regrouped in one or more analytic schema. Patterns or organization in this second type of structural analysis might be termed "paradigmatic" (cf. Sebag 1968:75), borrowing from the notion of paradigms in the study of language.
The champion of paradigmatic structural analysis is Claude Lévi-Strauss and it should be noted that he presented a paradigmatic model as early as 1955, that is, well before the English translation of Propp's work. The hypothetical paradigmatic matrix is typically one in which polar oppositions such as life/death, male/female are mediated. Lévi-Strauss is certainly aware of the distinction between Propp's syntagmatic structure and his paradigmatic structure. In fact, Lévi-Strauss's position is essentially that linear sequential structure is but apparent or manifest content, whereas the paradigmatic or schematic structure is the more important latent content. Thus the task of the structural analyst, according to Lévi-Strauss, is to see past or through the superficial linear structure to the "correct" or true underlying paradigmatic pattern of organization Lévi-Strauss 1955: 482, 1958:18; 1964:313). Although some of the differences between syntagmatic and paradigmatic analyses have been pointed out (cf. Waugh 1966:161), most folklorists are not aware of them and they wrongly lump both Propp and Lévi-Strauss together in the same category. (Propp himself attempted to comment on Lévi-Strauss's extended critique of the Morphology but this exchange is available only in the 1966 Italian translation of Propp's work to which Lévi-Strauss's 1960 critique and Propp's rejoinder are appended.) Generally speaking, the syntagmatic approach tends to be both empirical and inductive, and its resultant analyses can be replicated. In contrast, paradigmatic analyses are speculative and deductive, and they are not as easily replicated. (For examples of paradigmatic analyses, see the studies by Greimas, Leach, Sebag, and Köngäs and Maranda.)
One of the most important differences in emphasis between the syntagmatic and paradigmatic brands of structural analysis has been the concern or lack of concern with context. Propp's syntagmatic approach has unfortunately dealt with the structure of text alone, just as literary folklorists generally have considered the text in isolation from its social and cultural context (cf. Dundes 1964c). In this sense, pure formalistic structural analysis is probably every bit as sterile as motif-hunting and word-counting. In contrast, Lévi-Strauss has bravely attempted to relate the paradigm(s) he "finds" in myth to the world at large, that is, to other aspects of culture such as cosmology and world view. It is in this light that Lévi-Strauss's approach has helped lead to the new notion of myth (and other forms of folklore) as models. (Note that Malinowski's basically diachronic conception of myth as charter [set back in primeval time] has had to be updated to include a more synchronic conception of myth as model. The intellectual shift from "myth as charter" to "myth as model" is surely one significant consequence of synchronic structural analysis.) However, the emphasis upon context is rather one of application of the results of structural analysis than one inherent in the paradigmatic approach. The problem is that Propp made no attempt to relate his extraordinary morphology to Russian (or Indo-European) culture as a whole. Clearly, structural analysis is not an end in itself ! Rather it is a beginning, not an end. It is a powerful technique of descriptive ethnography inasmuch as it lays bare the essential form of the folkloristic text. But the form must ultimately be related to the culture or cultures in which it is found. In this sense, Propp's study is only a first step, albeit a giant one. For example, does not the fact that Propp's last function is a wedding indicate that Russian fairy-tale structure has something to do with marriage? Is the fairy tale a model, a model of fantasy to be sure, in which one begins with an old nuclear family (cf. Propp's typical initial situation "The members of a family are enumerated" or Function 1, "One of the members of a family is absent from home") and ends finally with the formation of a new family (Function 31, "The hero is married and ascends the throne")? Whether this is so or not, there is certainly no reason in theory why the syntagmatic structure of folktales cannot be meaningfully related to other aspects of a culture (such as social structure).
Many other fruitful areas of investigation are opened up by Propp's study. To what extent is Propp's Morphology an analysis of Russian fairy tales (as opposed to the fairy tales of other cultures)? Many, if not all, of the tales are Aarne-Thompson tale types and thus Propp's analysis is clearly not limited to Russian Materials. On the other hand, Propp's Morphology provides a useful point of departure for studies attempting to identify oicotypes. Von Sydow's notion of oicotype (1948:243) meaning a recurrent, predictable cultural or local variant must be amended in view of Propp's work to include oicotypes of structure as well as of content. Thus in addition to local penchants for specific content (motifs) within stable cross-cultural frames (such as Aarne-Thompson tale types), there may be culturally favored structural patterns (motifemic sequences) as well (cf. Dundes 1962b, 1964b:99-100).
Some of the other questions arising from Propp's work include: to what extent is Propp's analysis applicable to forms of the folktale other than the fairy tale? The English title Morphology of the Folktale is misleading. Propp limits his analysis to only one kind of folktale, that is, to fairy tales or Aarne-Thompson tale types 300-749. What about the other Aarne-Thompson folktale types? If, for example, Von Sydow is correct in grouping Aarne-Thompson tale types 850-879 under what he calls chimerates (the major portion of which are Aarne-Thompson types 300-749), then presumably Propp's analysis should also apply to this group of tales (cf. Von Sydow 1948:70). There is also the question of whether Propp's analysis might be applicable to non-Indo-European folktales. Attempts to study African tales (Paulme) and American Indian tales (Dundes 1964b) suggest that parts of Propp's Morphology may be cross-culturally valid.
Another question concerns the extent to which Propp's analysis applies to forms of folk narrative other than the folktale. For example, what is the relationship of Propp's Morphology to the structure of epic? (In this connection, it is noteworthy that the last portion of the Odyssey is strikingly similar to Propp's functions 23-31.) To what extent does Propp's analysis apply to genres of folklore other than those of folk narrative? It would appear that the structure of folk dances and games may be illuminated by Propp's analysis (Dundes 1964a). And what of the structure of nonfolkloristic materials? If there is a pattern in a culture, it is by no means necessary that it be limited to only one aspect of that culture. Quite the contrary. Culture patterns normally manifest themselves in a variety of cultural materials. Propp's analysis should be useful in analyzing the structure of literary forms (such as novels and plays), comic strips, motion-picture and television plots, and the like. In understanding the interrelationship between folklore and literature, and between folklore and the mass media, the emphasis has hitherto been principally upon content. Propp's Morphology suggests that there can be structural borrowings as well as content borrowings.
Propp's Morphology may also have important implications for studies of thinking and learning processes. To what extent is the structure of the fairy tale related to the structure of the ideal success story in a culture? (This also asks whether actual behavior is critically influenced by the type of fairy-tale structure found in a given culture.) And how precisely is fairy-tale structure learned? Does the child unconsciously extrapolate fairy-tale structure from hearing many individual fairy tales? Do children become familiar enough with the general nature of fairy-tale morphology to object to or question a deviation from it by a storyteller? (This kind of question may be investigated by field and laboratory experiments. For example, part of an actual or fictitious (=nontraditional) fairy tale containing the first several functions of Propp's analysis could be presented to a child who would be asked to "finish" the story. His completion could be checked against the rest of Propp's functions. Or a tale could be told with a section left out, e.g., the donor sequence, functions 12-14, and the child asked to fill in the missing portion. Such tests might also be of value in studies of child psychology. Presumably, the kinds of choices made by a child might be related to his personality. For example, does a little boy select a female donor figure to aid him against a male villain? Does a little girl select a male donor figure to assist her against her wicked stepmother?) In any case, while there have been many studies of language learning, there have been very few dealing with the acquisition of folklore. Certainly children "learn" riddle structure almost as soon as they learn specific riddles. Propp's Morphology thus provides an invaluable tool for the investigation of the acquisition of folklore.
Finally, Propp's scheme could also be used to generate new tales. In fact, Propp's Morphology has been programmed for a computer (Dundes 1965). Such techniques might be of interest to those seeking new species of literature based on folk form and content, or to those seeking to show the traditional nature and limited number of the combinations of narrative motifs actually found in oral tradition as opposed to the total number of theoretically possible combinations. In addition, analysis of the "rules" by which tales or portions (Propp's moves) of tales are generated or transformed is clearly another research prospect made possible by Propp's pioneering study.
There can be no doubt that Propp's analysis is a landmark in the study of folklore. Despite the fact that there is no mention of it in the standard treatises on the folktale, Propp's Morphology will in all probability be regarded by future generations as one of the major theoretical breakthroughs in the field of folklore in the twentieth century.
I. On the History of the Problem
Scholarly literature concerning the tale is not especially rich. Apart from the fact that few works are being published, bibliographical sources present the following picture: mostly texts themselves are published; there are quite a number of works concerning particular problems; there are no general works on the tale. Such works as do exist are of an informational rather than an investigatory nature. Yet it is precisely questions of a general character which, more than all others, awaken interest. Their resolution is the aim of scholarship. Professor M. Speránskij characterizes the existing situation in the following way: "Without dwelling on conclusions already reached, scientific anthropology continues its investigations, considering the material already collected as still insufficient for a generalized doctrine. Science, therefore, once again sets about the task of collecting material and evaluating it in the interests of future generations. But what general conclusions will be made and when they can be made is still unknown."
What is the reason for this helplessness, and why has the study of the tale found itself up a blind alley?
Speránskij places the blame on an insufficiency of material. But ten years have elapsed since the above lines were written. During this period the major three-volume work of Bolte and Polívka, Anmerkungen zu den Kinder- and Hausmdrchen der Brilder Grimm, has been completed. In this study, each tale is presented with its variants from the entire world. The last volume ends with a bibliography which lists sources, i.e., all collections of tales and other materials which contain tales that are known to the authors. This listing consists of about 1200 titles. It is true that among these materials there are those which are incidental and insignificant. But there are also major collections, such as the Thousand and One Nights, or the 400 texts of the Afanás'ev collection. But that is not all. An enormous amount of tale material has not yet been published, and, in part, not even described. It is in private hands or stored in the archives of various institutions. Specialists do have access to some of these collections. The Folktale Commission of the Geographic Society, in its Research Survey for the Year 1926, registers 531 tales as being available to its members. The preceding survey cites approximately three times as many examples. Thanks to this, the material of Bolte and Polivka can, in certain instances, be augmented. If this is so, then just how great is the number of tales that we have at our disposal in general? And moreover, how many researchers are there who have fully covered even the printed sources?
It is impossible, under these circumstances, to say that "the material already collected is still insufficient." What matters is not the amount of material, but the methods of investigation. At a time when the physical and mathematical sciences possess well-ordered classification, a unified terminology adopted by special conferences, and a methodology improved upon by the transmission from teachers to students, we have nothing comparable. The diversity and the picturesque multiformity of tale material make a clear, accurate organization and solution of problems possible only with great difficulty. Let us examine the manner in which the study of the tale has been carried out and the difficulties which confront us. The present essay does not have the aim of systematically recounting the history of the study of the tale. It is impossible to do so in a brief, introductory chapter; nor is this necessary, since this history has already been treated more than once 4 We shall try only to elucidate critically several attempts at the solution of some basic problems in the study of the tale and at the same time introduce them to the reader.
It is scarcely possible to doubt that phenomena and objects around us can be studied from the aspect of their composition and structure, or from the aspect of those processes and changes to which they are subject, or from the aspect of their origins. Nor is it necessary to prove that one can speak about the origin of any phenomenon only after that phenomenon has been described.
Meanwhile the study of the tale has been pursued for the most part only genetically, and, to a great extent, without attempts at preliminary, systematic description. We shall not speak at present about the historical study of the tale, but shall speak only about the description of it, for to discuss genetics, without special elucidation of the problem of description as it is usually treated, is completely useless. Before throwing light upon the question of the tale's origin, one must first answer the question as to what the tale itself represents.
Since the tale is exceptionally diverse, and evidently cannot be studied at once in its full extent, the material must be divided into sections, i.e., it must be classified. Correct classification is one of the first steps in a scientific description. The accuracy of all further study depends upon the accuracy of classification. But although classification serves as the foundation of all investigation, it must itself be the result of certain preliminary study. What we see, however, is precisely the reverse: the majority of researchers begin with classification, imposing it upon the material from without and not extracting it from the material itself. As we shall see further, the classifiers also frequently violate the simplest rules of division. Here we find one of the reasons for the "blind alley" of which Speránskij speaks. Let us consider a few examples.
The most common division is a division into tales with fantastic content, tales of everyday life, and animal tales. At first glance everything appears to be correct. But involuntarily the question arises, "Don't tales about animals sometimes contain elements of the fantastic to a very high degree?" And conversely, "Don't animals actually play a large role in fantastic tales?" Is it possible to consider such an indicator as sufficiently precise? Afanás'ev, for instance, places the tale about the fisherman and the fish among animal tales. Is he correct or not? If not, then why not? Later on we shall see that the tale ascribes with great ease identical actions to persons, objects, and animals. This rule is mainly true for so-called fairy tales, but it is also encountered 1n tales in general. One of the best-known examples in this regard is the tale about the sharing of the harvest ("I, Misa, get the heads of the grain; you get the roots"). In Russia, the one deceived is the bear; in the West, the devil. Consequently, this tale, upon introduction of a Western variant, suddenly drops out of the group of animal tales. Where does it belong? It is obviously not a tale of everyday life either, for where in everyday life does one find a harvest divided in such a way? Yet this is also not a tale with a fantastic content. It does not fit at all within the described classification.
Nevertheless, we shall affirm that the above classification is basically correct. Investigators here have proceeded according to instinct, and their words do not correspond to what they have actually sensed. Scarcely anyone will be mistaken in placing the tale about the firebird and the grey wolf among the animal tales. It is also quite clear to us that even Afanás'ev was wrong concerning the tale about the goldfish. But we see this not because animals do or do not figure in tales, but because fairy tales possess a quite particular structure which is immediately felt and which determines their category, even though we may not be aware of it. Every investigator who purports to be classifying according to the above scheme is, in fact, classifying differently. However, in contradicting himself, he actually proceeds correctly. But if this is so, if in the basis of classification there is subconsciously contained the structure of the tale, still not studied or even delineated, then it is necessary to place the entire classification of tales on a new track. It must be transferred into formal, structural features. And in order to do this, these features must be investigated.
However, we are getting ahead of ourselves. The situation described remains unclarified to the present day. Further attempts have not brought about any essential improvements. In his famous work The Psychology of Peoples, Wundt proposes the following division: (1) mythological tale-fables (Mythologische Fabelmärchen); (2) pure fairy tales (Refine Zaubermärchen); (3) biological tales and fables (Biologische Märchen and Fabeln); (4) pure animal fables (Reine Tierfabeln); (5) "genealogical" tales (Abstammungsmärchen); (6) joke tales and fables (Scherzmärchen and Scherzfabeln); (7) moral fables (Moralische Fabeln)
This classification is much richer than the one previously quoted, but it, too, provokes objections. The "fable" (a term which one encounters five times in seven classes), is a formal category. The study of the fable is just beginning. It is unclear what Wundt meant by it. Furthermore the term "joke tale" is in general unacceptable, since the same tale might be treated both heroically and comically. Still further, the question is raised as to the difference between a "pure animal fable" and a "moral fable." In what way are the "pure fables" not "moral" and vice versa?
The classifications discussed deal with the distribution of tales into categories. Besides the division into categories, there is a division according to theme.
If a division into categories is unsuccessful, the division according to theme leads to total chaos. We shall not even speak about the fact that such a complex, indefinite concept as "theme" is either left completely undefined or is defined by every author in his own way. Jumping ahead, we shall say that the division of fairy tales according to themes is, in general, impossible. Like the division into categories, it too must be placed on a new track. Tales possess one special characteristic: components of one tale can, without any alteration whatsoever, be transferred to another. Later on this law of transference will be elucidated in greater detail; meanwhile we can limit ourselves to pointing out that Bába Jagá, for example, might appear in the most diverse tales, in the most varied themes. This trait is a specific characteristic of the tale. At the same time, in spite of this characteristic, a theme is usually defined in the following fashion: a part of a tale is selected (often haphazardly, simply because it is striking), the preposition "about" is added to it, and the definition is established. In this way a tale which includes a fight with a dragon is a tale "about fights with dragons"; a tale in which Koscéj appears is a tale "about Koscéj," and so on, there being no single principle for the selection of decisive elements. If we now recall the law of transference, it is logically inevitable that the result will be confusion, or, more accurately, an overlapping classification. Such a classification always distorts the essence of the material under examination. To this is added an inconsistency in the basic principle of division, i.e., one more elementary rule of logic is violated. This situation has continued to the present day.
We shall illustrate this situation by giving two examples. In 1924 there appeared a book on the tale by Professor Vólkov of Odessa. Vólkov states, from the very first pages of his work, that the fantastic tale comprises fifteen themes. These are as follows: (1) about those unjustly persecuted; (2) about the hero-fool; (3) about three brothers; (4) about dragon fighters; (5) about procuring brides; (6) about a wise maiden; (7) about those who have been placed under a spell or bewitched; (8) about the possessor of a talisman; (9) about the possessor of magic objects; (10) about an unfaithful wife; etc.
How these fifteen themes were arrived at is not indicated. If one looks into the principle of this division, one obtains the following: the first class is determined by the complication (what the complication actually is we shall see later); the second class is determined by the character of the hero; the third, by the number of heroes; the fourth, by one moment in the course of the action, and so forth. Thus, a consistent principle of division is totally lacking. The result is actually chaos. Do not tales exist in which three brothers (third category) procure brides for themselves (fifth category)? Does not the possessor of a talisman, with the aid of this talisman, punish his unfaithful wife? Thus, the given classification is not a scientific classification in the precise sense of the word. It is nothing more than a conventional index, the value of which is extremely dubious. Can such a classification be even remotely compared with a classification of plants or animals which is carried out not at first glance, but after an exact and prolonged preliminary study of the material?
Having broached the questiop of the classification of themes, we cannot pass over Aarne's index of tales without comment. Aarne is one of the founders of the so-called Finnish school. The works of this school form the peak of studies of the tale in our time. This is not the place to give due evaluation to this movement. I shall only point out the fact that a rather significant number of articles and notes on the variants of individual themes exist in scholarly literature. Such variants are sometimes obtained from the least expected sources. A great number of them have been gradually accumulating, but they have not been worked over systematically. It is chiefly to this that the attention of the new trend is directed. Representatives of this school seek out and compare variants of separate themes according to their world-wide distribution. The material is geo-ethnographically arranged according to a known, previously developed system, and then conclusions are drawn as to the basic structure, dissemination, and origins of the themes. This method, however, also evokes a series of objections. As we shall see later on, themes (especially the themes of fairy tales) are very closely related to each other. In order to determine where one theme and its variants end and another begins, one must first have made a comparative study of the themes of the tales, and have accurately established the principle of the selection of themes and variants. However, nothing of the kind exists. The transference of elements is not taken into account here either. The works of this school proceed from the subconscious premise that each theme is something organically whole, that it can be singled out from a number of other themes and studied independently.
At the same time, the fully objective separation of one theme from another and the selection of variants is by no means a simple task. Themes of the tale are so closely linked to one another, and are so mutually interwoven, that this problem requires special preliminary study before they can be extracted. Without such study the investigator is left to his own taste, since objective extraction is not yet possible.
Let us take one example. Among the variants of the tale "Frau Holle," Bolte and Polívka quote tale No. 102 from Afanás'ev (the well-known tale, "Bába Jagá). They also include a number of other Russian tales—even those in which the witch is replaced by mice or a dragon. But they do not include the tale "Morózko." Why not? For here we have the same expulsion of the stepdaughter and her return with gifts, the same sending of the real daughter and her punishment. Moreover, both "Morózko" and "Frau Holle" represent the personification of winter, even though in the German tale we have the personification in a female form, and in the Russian one, in a male form. But apparently "Morózko," because of the artistic vividness of the tale, became subjectively fixed as a special type of tale, a special independent theme which can have its own variants. In this way we see that there are no completely objective criteria for the separation of one theme from another. Where one researcher sees a new theme, another will see a variant, and vice versa. I have given a very simple example, but difficulties increase with the extension and augmentation of the material.
Be that as it may, the methods of this school, first of all, needed a list of themes. This was the task undertaken by Aarne.
His list entered into international usage and rendered the study of the tale an enormous service. Thanks to Aarne's index, a coding of the tale has been made possible. Aarne calls themes types, and each type is numbered. A brief, conventional designation of tales (in this instance: by reference to a number in the index), is very convenient. In particular, the Folktale Commission could not have described its material wtihout this list, since the synopsis of 530 tales would have required much space, and in order to become acquainted with this material it would have been necessary to read through all of the synopses. Now, one need only look at the numbers and everything is clear at first glance.
But along with these commendable features, the index also reveals a number of real insufficiencies. As a classification it is not free of the same mistakes that Vólkov makes. The basic categories are as follows: (1) animal tales, (2) tales proper, (3) anecdotes. We easily recognize the previous devices changed to a new form. (It is a bit strange that animal tales are apparently not recognized as tales proper.) Furthermore, one feels like asking, "Do we have such precise knowledge of the concept of the anecdote to permit our employing it with complete confidence?" (Cf., the term "fables" used by Wundt.)
We shall not enter into the details of this classification, but shall consider only the fairy tales, which Aarne places in a subclass. I should note here that the introduction of subclasses is one of the services rendered by Aarne, since until his time there had been no thorough working out of a division into genus, species, and varieties. The fairy tales comprise, according to Aarne, the following categories: (1) a supernatural adversary; (2) a supernatural husband (wife); (3) a supernatural task; (4) a supernatural helper; (5) a magic object; (6) supernatural power or knowledge; (7) other supernatural motifs. Almost the same objections pertaining to Vó1kov's classification can be repeated here. What, for instance, of those tales in which a supernatural task is resolved by a supernatural helper (which occurs very often), or those in which a supernatural spouse is also a supernatural helper?
True, Aarne does not really attempt to establish a scientific classification. His index is important as a practical reference and, as such, it has a tremendous significance. But Aarne's index is dangerous for another reason. It suggests notions which are essentially incorrect. Clear-cut division into types does not actually exist; very often it is a fiction. If types do exist, they exist not on the level indicated by Aarne, but on the level of the structural features of similar tales, about which we shall speak later. The proximity of plots, one to another, and the impossibility of a completely objective delimitation leads to the fact that, when assigning a text to one or another type, one often does not know what number to choose. The correspondence between a type and' a designated text is often quite approximate. Of the 125 tales listed in the collection of A. I. Nikíforov, 25 tales (i.e., twenty percent) are assigned to types approximately and conditionally, which Nikiforov indicates by brackets. If different investigators begin to attribute the same tale to various types, what will be the result? On the other hand, since types are defined according to the presence of one or another striking incident in them, and not on the basis of the construction of the tales, and since one tale is capable of containing several such incidents, then one tale can sometimes be related to several types at once (up to five numbers for one tale). This does not at all indicate that a given text consists of five tales. Such a method of delineation is, in reality, a definition according to components. For a certain group of tales, Aarne even departs from his principles and quite unexpectedly, and somewhat inconsistently, switches from a division according to themes to a division by motifs. This is the manner in which he designates one of his subclasses, a group which he entitles "About the stupid devil." But this inconsistency again represents an instinctively chosen correct approach. Later I shall try to show that study on the basis of small component parts is the correct method of investigation.
Thus we see that the problem of classification of the tale finds itself in somewhat sorry state. Yet classification is one of the first and most important steps of study. We need merely recall what a great significance Linnaeus' first scientific classification for botany. Our studies are still in their "pre-Linnaen" stage.
Let us move on to another most important area of tale investigation: to its factual description. Here we can observe the following picture: very often the investigators, in touching upon questions of description, do not bother with classification (Veselóvskij). On the other hand, classifiers do not always describe a tale in detail, but study only certain aspects of it (Wundt). if an investigator is interested in both approaches, then classification does not follow description, but description is carried on within the framework of a preconceived classification.
Veselóvskij said very little about the description of the tale, but what he did say has enormous significance. Veselóvskij means by "theme" a complex of motifs. A motif can be ascribed to different themes. ("A theme is a series of motifs. A motif de. velops into a theme." "Themes vary: certain motifs make their way into themes, or else themes combine with one another." "By theme I mean a subject in which various situations, that is, motifs, move in and out.") For Veselóvskij, motif is something primary, theme secondary. A theme is, for him, a creative, unifying act. From this we realize that study must be concerned not so much with themes as with motifs.
Had scholarship concerning the tale acquainted itself better with Veselóvskij's precept—"separate the question of motifs from the question of themes" (Veselóvskij's italics)—then many vague matters would already have been done away with.
Yet Veselóvskij's teaching on motifs and themes represents only a general principle. His concrete interpretation of the term "motif" cannot be applied anymore. According to Veselóvskij, a motif is an indivisible narrative unit. ("By the term 'motif' I mean the simplest narrative unit." "The feature of a motif is its figurative, monomial schematism; such are those elements incapable of further decomposition which belong to lower mythology and to the tale.") However, the motifs which he cites as examples do decompose. If a motif is something logically whole, then each sentence of a tale gives a motif. (A father has three sons: a motif; a stepdaughter leaves home: a motif; Iván fights with a dragon: a motif; and so on.) This would not be so bad if motifs were really indivisible; an index of motifs would then be made possible. But let us take the motif "a dragon kidnaps the tsar's daughter" (this example is not Veselóvskij's). This motif decomposes into four elements, each of which, in its own right, can vary. The dragon may be replaced by Koscéj, a whirlwind, a devil, a falcon, or a sorcerer. Abduction can be replaced by vampirism or various other acts by which disappearance is effected in tales. The daughter may be replaced by a sister, a bride, a wife, or a mother. The tsar can be replaced by a tsar's son, a peasant, or a priest. In this way, contrary to Veselóvskij, we must affirm that a motif is not monomial or indivisible. The final divisible unit, as such, does not represent a logical whole. While agreeing with Veselóvskij that a part is more primary for description than the whole (and according to Veselóvskij, a motif is, even by its origin, more primary than the theme), we shall eventually have to solve the problem of the extraction of certain primary elements in a different way than does Veselóvskij.
Other investigators have proved as unsuccessful as Veselóvskij. An example of a methodologically valuable approach can be found in the methods of Bédier. The value of Bédier's methods lies in the fact that he was the first to recognize that some relationship exists in the tale between its constants and variables. He attempts to express this schematically. The constant, essential units he calls elements, giving them the sign Ω. He labels the variables with Latin letters. The scheme of one tale, in this manner, gives Ω+a+b+c; another, Ω+a+b+c+n; a third, Ω+m+1+n; and so forth. But his essentially correct idea falls apart in its inability to specify the exact meaning of omega. What Bédier's elements are in reality and how to separate them remains unclarified.
The problems of the description of the tale have been relatively neglected in favor of the concept of the tale as something finished, or given. Only at the present time is the idea of the need for an exact description growing ever wider, although the forms of the tale have already long been discussed. And actually, at a time when minerals, plants, and animals are described and classified precisely according to their structure, at a time when a whole range of literary genres (the fable, the ode, drama, etc.) have been described, the tale continues to be studied without such a description. Sklóvskij has shown to what absurdities the so-called genetic studies of the tale have sometimes gone to when they fail to consider its forms. As an example he cites the well-known tale about the measurement of land by means of a hide. The hero of the tale obtains permission to take as much land as he is able to encompass with an ox hide. He cuts up the hide into strips and encompasses more land than the deceived party expected. V. F. Mílller and others tried to detect here the traces of a judicial act. Sklóvskij writes: "It appears that the deceived party (and in all its variants the tale is concerned with deception) did not protest against the seizure of the land because land was generally measured in this manner. The result is an absurdity. If, at the moment of the supposed performance of the tale's action, the custom of measuring land 'by as much as one can encircle with a belt' existed and was known both to the seller and to the purchaser, then not only is there no deception, but also no theme, since the seller knew what to expect." Thus, the relegation of the story to historical reality, without taking into account the particulars of the story as such, leads to false conclusions, in spite of the investigators' enormous erudition.
The methods of Veselóvskij and Bédier belong to a more or less distant past. Although these scholars worked, in the main, as historians of folklore, their methods of formal study represented new achievements which are essentially correct but which have not been worked out or applied by anyone. At the present time the necessity of studying the forms of the tale evokes no objections whatsoever.
Yet present-day scholarship sometimes goes too far in this regard. In the above-mentioned book of Vólkov, one finds the following mode of description: tales first of all decompose into motifs. Qualities of the heroes ("two wise sons-in-law and the third a fool"), their number ("three brothers"), the deeds of heroes ("the injunction of a father for someone to keep watch over his grave after his death, an injunction which is carried out by the fool alone"), objects (a hut on chicken legs, talismans), and so forth, are all considered to be motifs. Each such motif is given a conventional sign—a letter and a number, or a letter and two numbers. More or less similar motifs are marked by one letter with different numbers. At this point just how many motifs does one obtain by being really consistent and marking the entire content of a tale in this way? Vólkov gives about 250 designations (there is no exact listing). It is obvious that there is much omitted and that Vólkov did do some selecting, but how he did it is unknown. Having isolated motifs in this manner, Vólkov proceeds to transcribe tales, mechanically translating motifs into signs and comparing schemes. Similar tales, it is clear, give similar schemes. Transcriptions fill the whole book. The only "conclusion" that can be drawn from this transcription h is that similar tales resemble each other—a conclusion which is completely noncommittal and leads nowhere.
We see the nature of the problems investigated by scholars. The less experienced reader may ask: "Doesn't science occupy itself with abstractions which in essence are not at all necessary? Isn't it all the same whether the motif is or is not decomposable? Does it matter how we isolate basic elements, how we classify a tale, and whether we study it according to motifs or themes?" Involuntarily one feels like raising more concrete, tangible questions, questions closer to the average person who simply likes tales. But such a requirement is based on delusion. Let us draw an analogy. Is it possible to speak about the life of a language without knowing anything about the parts of speech, i.e., about certain groups of words arranged according to the laws of their changes? A living language is a concrete fact—grammar is its abstract substratum. These substrata lie at the basis of a great many phenomena of life, and it is precisely to this that science turns its attention. Not a single concrete fact can be explained without the study of these abstract bases.
Scholarship has not limited itself to the problems dealt with here. We have spoken only of those questions related to morphology. In particular, we have not touched upon the enormous field of historical research. This historical research may outwardly be more interesting than morphological investigations, and here a great deal has been done. But the general question of the origin of the tale is, on the whole, unresolved, even though here too there are undoubtedly laws of origin and development which still await elaboration. Instead, all the more has been done on specific questions. The mere enumeration of names and works makes no sense. We shall insist that as long as no correct morphological study exists, there can be no correct historical study. If we are incapable of breaking the tale into its components, we will not be able to make a correct comparison. And if we do not know how to compare, then how can we throw light upon, for instance, Indo-Egyptian relationships,. or upon the relationships of the Greek fable to the Indian, etc.? If we cannot compare one tale with another, then how can we compare the tale to religion or to myths? Finally, just as all rivers flow into the sea, all questions relating to the study of tales lead to the solution of the highly important and as yet unresolved problem of the similarity of tales throughout the world. How is one to explain the similarity of the tale about the frog queen in Russia, Germany, France, India, in America among the Indians, and in New Zealand, when the contact of peoples cannot be proven historically? This resemblance cannot be explained if we have wrong conceptions of its character. The historian, inexperienced in morphological problems, will not see a resemblance where one actually exists; he will omit coincidences which are important to him, but which he does not notice. And conversely, where a similarity is perceived, a specialist in morphology will be able to demonstrate that compared phenomena are completely heteronomous.
We see, then, that very much depends upon the study of forms. We shall not refuse to take upon ourselves the crude, analytical, somewhat laborious task which is further complicated: by the fact that it is undertaken from the viewpoint of abstract, formal problems. Such crude, "uninteresting" work of this kind is a way to generalize "interesting" constructions.
II. The Method and Material
Let us first of all attempt to formulate our task. As already stated in the
foreword, this work is dedicated to the study of fairy tales. The existence of fairy
tales as a special class is assumed as an essential working hypothesis. By “fairy
tales” are meant at present those tales classified by Aarne under numbers 300 to
749. This definition is artificial, but the occasion will subsequently arise to give a
more precise determination on the basis of resultant conclusions. We are
undertaking a comparison of the themes of these tales. For the sake of
comparison we shall separate the component parts of fairy tales by special
methods; and then, we shall make a comparison of tales according to their
components. The result will be a morphology (i.e., a description of the tale
according to its component parts and the relationship of these components to
each other and to the whole).
What methods can achieve an accurate description of the tale? Let us
compare the following events:
1. A tsar gives an eagle to a hero. The eagle carries the hero away to another
2. An old man gives Súcenko a horse. The horse carries Súcenko away to
3. A sorcerer gives Iván a little boat. The boat takes Iván to another kingdom.
4. A princess gives Iván a ring. Young men appearing from out of the ring carry
Iván away into another kingdom, and so forth.1
Both constants and variables are present in the preceding instances. The
names of the dramatis personae change (as well as the attributes of each), but
neither their actions nor functions change. From this we can draw the inference
that a tale often attributes identical actions to various personages. This makes
possible the study of the tale according to the functions of its dramatis personae.
We shall have to determine to what extent these functions actually represent
recurrent constants of the tale. The formulation of all other questions will depend
† “Car’ daet udal’cu orla. Orcl unosit udal’ca v inoe carstvo” (p. 28). Actually, in the
tale referred to (old number 104a = new number 171), the hero’s future bride, Poljusa,
tells her father the tsar that they have a ptica-kolpalica (technically a spoonbill, although
here it may have meant a white stork), which can carry them to the bright world. For a
tale in which the hero flies away on an eagle, see 71a (= new number 128). [Louis A.
upon the solution of this primary question: how many functions are known to the
Investigation will reveal that the recurrence of functions is astounding. Thus
Bába Jagá, Morózko, the bear, the forest spirit, and the mare’s head test and
reward the stepdaughter. Going further, it is possible to establish that characters
of a tale, however varied they may be, often perform the same actions. The actual
means of the realization of functions can vary, and as such, it is a variable.
Morózko behaves differently than Bába Jagá. But the function, as such, is a
constant. The question of what a tale’s dramatis personae do is an important one
for the study of the tale, but the questions of who does it and how it is done
already fall within the province of accessory study. The functions of characters
are those components which could replace Veselóvskij’s “motifs,” or Bédier’s
“elements.” We are aware of the fact that the repetition of functions by various
characters was long ago observed in myths and beliefs by historians of religion,
but it was not observed by historians of the tale (cf. Wundt and Negelein2). Just
as the characteristics and functions of deities are transferred from one to another,
and, finally, are even carried over to Christian saints, the functions of certain tale
personages are likewise transferred to other personages. Running ahead, one may
say that the number of functions is extremely small, whereas the number of
personages is extremely large. This explains the two-fold quality of a tale: its
amazing multiformity, picturesqueness, and color, and on the other hand, its no
less striking uniformity, its repetition.
Thus the functions of the dramatis personae are basic components of the tale,
and we must first of all extract them. In order to extract the functions we must
define them. Definition must proceed from two points of view. First of all,
definition should in no case depend on the personage who carries out the
function. Definition of a function will most often be given in the form of a noun
expressing an action (interdiction, interrogation, flight, etc.). Secondly, an action
cannot be defined apart from its place in the course of narration. The meaning
which a given function has in the course of action must be considered. For
example, if Iván marries a tsar’s daughter, this is something entirely different
than the marriage of a father to a widow with two daughters. A second example:
if, in one instance, a hero receives money from his father in the form of 100
rubles and subsequently buys a wise cat with this money, whereas in a second
case, the hero is rewarded with a sum of money for an accomplished act of
bravery (at which point the tale ends), we have before us two morphologically
different elements—in spite of the identical action (the transference of money) in
both cases. Thus, identical acts can have different meanings, and vice versa.
Function is understood as an act of a character, defined from the point of view of
its significance for the course of the action.
The observations cited may be briefly formulated in the following manner:
1. Functions of characters serve as stable, constant elements in a tale,
independent of how and by whom they are fulfilled. They constitute the
fundamental components of a tale.
2. The number of functions known to the fairy tale is limited.
If functions are delineated, a second question arises: in what classification
and in what sequence are these functions encountered?
A word, first, about sequence. The opinion exists that this sequence is
accidental. Veselóvskij writes, “The selection and order of tasks and encounters
(examples of motifs) already presupposes a certain freedom.” Sklóvskij stated
this idea in even sharper terms: “It is quite impossible to understand why, in the
act of adoption, the accidental sequence [Sklóvskij italics] of motifs must be
retained. In the testimony of witnesses, it is precisely the sequence of events
which is distorted most of all.” This reference to the evidence of witnesses is
unconvincing. If witnesses distort the sequence of events, their narration is
meaningless. The sequence of events has its own laws. The short story too has
similar laws, as do organic formations. Theft cannot take place before the door is
forced. Insofar as the tale is concerned, it has its own entirely particular and
specific laws. The sequence of elements, as we shall see later on, is strictly
uniform. Freedom within this sequence is restricted by very narrow limits which
can be exactly formulated. We thus obtain the third basic thesis of this work,
subject to further development and verification:
3. The sequence of functions is always identical.
As for groupings, it is necessary to say first of all that by no means do all
tales give evidence of all functions. But this in no way changes the law of
sequence. The absence of certain functions does not change the order of the rest.
We shall dwell on this phenomenon later. For the present we shall deal with
groupings in the proper sense of the word. The presentation of the question itself
evokes the following assumption: if functions are singled out, then it will be
possible to trace those tales which present identical functions. Tales with
identical functions can be considered as belonging to one type. On this
foundation, an index of types can then be created, based not upon theme features,
which are somewhat vague and diffuse, but upon exact structural features.
Indeed, this will be possible. If we further compare structural types among
themselves, we are led to the following completely unexpected phenomenon:
functions cannot be distributed around mutually exclusive axes. This
phenomenon, in all its concreteness, will become apparent to us in the succeeding
and final chapters of this book. For the time being, it can be interpreted in the
following manner: if we designate with the letter A a function encountered
everywhere in first position, and similarly designate with the letter B the function
which (if it is at all present) always follows A, then all functions known to the tale
will arrange themselves within a single tale, and none will fall out of order, nor
will any one exclude or contradict any other. This is, of course, a completely
unexpected result. Naturally, we would have expected that where there is a
function A, there cannot be certain functions belonging to other tales. Supposedly
we would obtain several axes, but only a single axis is obtained for all fairy tales.
They are of the same type, while the combinations spoken of previously are
subtypes. At first glance, this conclusion may appear absurd or perhaps even
wild, yet it can be verified in a most exact manner. Such a typological unity
represents a very complex problem on which it will be necessary to dwell further.
This phenomenon will raise a whole series of questions.
In this manner, we arrive at the fourth basic thesis of our work:
4. All fairy tales are of one type in regard to their structure.
We shall now set about the task of proving, developing, and elaborating these
theses in detail. Here it should be recalled that the study of the tale must be
carried on strictly deductively, i.e., proceeding from the material at hand to the
consequences (and in effect it is so carried on in this work). But the presentation
may have a reversed order, since it is easier to follow the development if the
general bases are known to the reader beforehand.
Before starting the elaboration, however, it is necessary to decide what
material can serve as the subject of this study. First glance would seem to
indicate that it is necessary to cover all extant material. In fact, this is not so.
Since we are studying tales according to the functions of their dramatis personae,
the accumulation of material can be suspended as soon as it becomes apparent
that the new tales considered present no new functions. Of course, the
investigator must look through an enormous amount of reference material. But
there is no need to inject the entire body of this material into the study. We have
found that 100 tales constitute more than enough material. Having discovered
that no new functions can be found, the morphologist can put a stop to his work,
and further study will follow different directions (the formation of indices, the
complete systemization, historical study). But just because material can be
limited in quantity, that does not mean that it can be selected at one’s own
discretion. It should be dictated from without. We shall use the collection by
Afanás’ev, starting the study of tales with No. 50 (according to his plan, this is
the first fairy tale of the collection), and finishing it with No. 151.† Such a
† Tales numbered 50 to 151 refer to enumeration according to the older editions of
Afanás’ev. In the new system of enumeration, adopted for the fifth and sixth editions and
limitation of material will undoubtedly call forth many objections, but it is
theoretically justified. To justify it further, it would be necessary to take into
account the degree of repetition of tale phenomena. If repetition is great, then one
may take a limited amount of material. If repetition is small, this is impossible.
The repetition of fundamental components, as we shall see later, exceeds all
expectations. Consequently, it is theoretically possible to limit oneself to a small
body of material. Practically, this limitation justifies itself by the fact that the
inclusion of a great quantity of material would have excessively increased the
size of this work. We are not interested in the quantity of material, but in the
quality of its analysis. Our working material consists of 100 tales. The rest is
reference material, of great interest to the investigator, but lacking a broader
1. See Afanás’ev, Nos. 171, 139, 138, 156.
2. W. Wundt, “Mythus und Religion,” Völkerpsychologie, II Section I; Negelein,
Germanische Mythologie. Negelein creates an exceptionally apt term,
utilized in this translation (cf. the Preface to the Second Edition, and Appendix V), the
correponding numbers are 93 to 270. [Louis A. Wagner]
III. THE FUNCTIONS OF DRAMATIS PERSONAE
In this chapter we shall enumerate the functions of the dramatis personae in the order dictated by the folktale itself. For each function we are given: 1) a brief summary of its essence, 2) an abbreviated definition in one word, and 3) its conventional sign. (The introduction of signs eventually shall permit
a schematic comparison of the structure of various folktales.) Then follow examples. These examples far from exhaust our material. I cite them only as models. They are distributed into certain groups. These groups are in relation to the definition as "species" to "genus." The basic task is clearly the extraction of "genera." An examination of species cannot be included in the problems of general morphology. Species can be further subdivided into "varieties." Here we have the beginning of systematization. 'The arrangement to be given later will not pursue similar goals. The citation of examples should only illustrate the presence of the function as a certain generic unit. As was already mentioned, all functions are bound up within one consecutive story. The groups of functions to be given here form a morphological basis for the study of fairy tales in general.
A folktale usually begins with some sort of initial situation. The members of a family are enumerated, or else the future hero is introduced (i.e., a soldier) in some manner; either his name is revealed or his status is indicated. Although this situation does not, in itself, constitute a function, it nevertheless is an important morphological element. The species of folktale beginnings can be examined only at the end of the present work. We shall designate this element as the "initial situation," giving it the sign a.
Functions follow the initial situation:
I. One of the members of a family is absent from home. (Definition: absence.)
1. The person absent can be a member of the older generation. Parents leave for work (64). "The prince had far to travel, to abandon his wife in foreign lands" (148). "The merchant goes away, as to foreign lands" (115). Usual forms of absenting oneself in folktales: going to work, going to the forest, departing in order to trade, leaving for war, "on business."
2. An intensified form of absence is represented by the death of parents ((12 ).
3. Sometimes members of the younger generation absent themselves (R3 ). They ride (or walk) to someone as guests (57); they leave to go fishing (62);
they go for a walk (77); they go out to gather berries (137).
II. An interdiction is addressed to the hero. (Definition: interdiction.)
1. "You dare not look in this pantry" (94). "Take care of your brother, do not venture forth from the courtyard" (64). "If Baba Jaga comes, say nothing, and be silent" (61). "Often did the prince try to persuade her and order her not to leave the high tower" (148). Interdiction not to go out is often given a forceful note, or is replaced by putting children in a tower (117). Sometimes, on the contrary, an interdiction is evidenced in a weaker form, as a request or bit of advice: a mother warns her son not to go out fishing, "you're still a youngster," etc. (62). The folktale generally begins with an absence, and then proceeds with the interdiction. The sequence of events, of course, actually-Turis in the reverse. Interdictions can also be made without being connected with an absence: "do not pick the apples" (127); "do not pickup the golden feather" (103); "do not open the drawer"; "do not kiss the sisters" (125).
2. An interdiction in the form of an address to someone is either an injunction or a proposal (y2). "Bring breakfast out into the field" (74)." "Take your brother with you to the woods" (137).
Here, for the sake of a better understanding of the matter at hand, a small digression may perhaps be made. The folktale further presents a sudden (yet not without a traceable form of preparation) emergence of misfortune. In connection with this, the initial situation gives a description of particular, often plainly stated prosperity to follow. For example, the king has a wonderful garden in which golden apples grow, and so on. A particular form is agrarian prosperity: a peasant and his sons achieve a wonderful haying. One often encounters the description of sowing with excellent shoots. This prosperity naturally serves as a contrasting background, since misfortune already hovers invisibly over the heads of the happy family. From this situation stems the interdiction, for example, not to go out into the street, and so forth. The very absence of the parents prepares for the oncoming misfortune, creating the opportune moment for its emergence. The children, either upon the departure of parents or after their death, are left on their own. An order often plays the role of interdiction. If the children are urged to go out into the field or in the forest, the fulfilment of this injunction produces the same consequences as an interdiction not to go to the forest or out into the field.
III. The interdiction is violated (Definition: violation.)
The forms of violation correspond to the forms of interdiction. Functions II and III form a twin element. The second half can sometimes exist without the first (the princesses go into the garden ; they are late in returning home). Here the interdiction of tardiness is omitted. A fulfilled injunction corresponds, as demonstrated, to a violated prohibition.
At this point a new personage, who perhaps can be termed the villain, enters the folktale. His role is that of the disturber of the peace of a happy family, the cause of some form of misfortune or harm. The villain (s) may be a dragon, a devil, bandits, a witch, or a stepmother, etc. (the question of how new personages, in general, enter into the scheme of action of a folktale will be discussed in a special chapter). Here, the villain enters the scene. He comes on foot, sneaks up on, or flies down upon a particular setting, etc., and begins the performance of his role.
IV. The villain makes an attempt at reconnaissance. (Definition: reconnaissance.)
The reconnaissance has as its aim the obtaining of information about, for example, where certain children reside, the location of precious objects, etc.
(E1). Examples: a bear: "Who will tell me what has become of the king's children? Where did the children disappear?" (117); an employee: "Where do you get these precious stones?" (11-1); a priest inquires: "How were you able to make such a quick recovery?" (114); a princess: "Tell me, Ivan, the merchant's son, wherein does your wisdom lie?" (120); "With what does the bitch live?" Jagiga thinks. She sends One-Eye, Two-Eye, and Three-Eye to find out (56).
An invented form of reconnaissance is evidenced in the questioning by the villain of his intended victim (52). "Where is your death, Kozej?" (93). "What a swift steed you have ! Might you not get another somewhere that could outrun yours?" (95).
In separate instances one encounters forms of reconnaissance by means of other personages (3 ).
V. The villain receives information about his victim. (Definition: delivery.)
The villain spontaneously receives an answer to his question. The chisel answers the bear: "Take me out into the courtyard and throw me down upon the ground; there where I stick into the ground will you also find the hive." The merchant's wife responds to the question about the precious stones, put to her by the employee, in the following manner: "Oh, may the hen lay eggs for us," etc. Once again we are confronted with twin functions. They often occur in the form of a dialogue. The dialogue between the stepmother and the mirror belongs to this category. Although she does not directly, here, question her stepdaughter, the mirror answers her: "There is no doubt of your beauty; and you have a stepdaughter, living with knights in the deep forest, and, truly, she is even more beautiful than you." As in similar instances, the second half of a twin function can exist without the first. In these cases the delivery
of information takes the form of an unwary, careless act: a mother calls her son home in a loud voice and thereby betrays his presence to a witch (62). An old man receives a marvelous bag; he gives the godmother a treat from the bag and` thereby gives away the secret of his talisman to her (109).
Inverse or other forms of information gathering evoke corresponding answers. Ko~~_ej reveals the secret of his death (93), the secret of the swift
steed (94), and so forth.
VI. The villain attempts to deceive his victim in order to take possession of him or of his belongings. (Definition: fraud.)
The villain, first of all, assumes a disguise. A dragon turns into a golden goat (97); or a handsome youth (118); a witch pretends to be a "sweet old lady" (148) and imitates the voice of the mother (62); a priest dresses himself in a goat's hide (144); a thief pretends to be a beggar (111). Then follows the function itself.
The villain makes an attempt at persuasion (6l). The witch tries to have a ring accepted (65); the witch suggests the taking of a steam bath (109), the removal of clothes (147), and the bathing in a pond (148); the beggar asks alms (111).
The villain proceeds to act by the direct application of magical means (12). The stepmother gives a sleeping potion to her stepchild (128). She sticks
a magic pin into his clothing (128).
The villain employs other means of deception or coercion (3). Evil sisters place knives and spikes around a window through which Finist is supposed
to fly (129). A dragon rearranges the wood shavings that are supposed to show a young girl the way to her brothers (74).
VII. The victim submits to deception and thereby unwittingly helps his enemy. (Definition: complicity.)
[The remainder is not yet edited.]
1. The hero agrees to all of the villain's persuasions (i.e., takes the ring, goes to steambathe, etc.). One notes that interdictions are always broken and deceitful proposals, conversely, are always accepted and fulfilled (01).
2-3. The hero mechanically reacts to the employment of magical or other means (i.e., falls asleep, wounds himself, etc.). It is possible to observe that this function can also exist separately. No one lulls the hero to sleep: he suddenly falls asleep by himself in order, of course, to facilitate the villain's dirty work (0Z -03 ).
The deceitful agreement constitutes a special form of deceitful proposal and assent ("Give away that which you do not know you have in your house."). Assent in these instances is compelled, the villain taking advantage of some difficult situation in which his victim is caught: a scattered flock, extreme poverty, etc. The villain, on another occasion, induces these very same difficulties for the hero: the bear seizes the king by the beard (117). This element may be defined as "preliminary misfortune." (Designation: differentiating between this and other forms of deception.)
VIII. The villain causes harm or injury to one member of a family. (Definition: villainy. Designation: A.)
This function is exceptionally important, since, by means of it, the actual_ movement of the folktale is created. Absence, the 'creaking of an interdiction, delivery, the success of a deceit, all prepare the way for this function, create its possibility of occurrence, or else simply facilitate its happening. Therefore, the first seven functions may be regarded as the preparatory section of the folktale, whereas the plot is begun by an act of villainy. The forms of villainy are exceedingly varied. ,
1. The villain abducts a person (AL). A dragon kidnaps the king's daughter (72), the daughter of a peasant (74); a witch kidnaps a boy (62); older brothers abduct the bride of a younger brother (102).
2. The villain abducts or steals a magical agent (AZ). The "uncomely chap" steals a magic coffer (111); the princess steals a magic shirt (120); the little peasant makes off with a magic steed.
2a. The forcible seizure of a magical helper creates a special subclass of this form (All). The stepmother orders the killing of the miraculous cow (56, 57). The employee orders the slaying of a magic duck or chicken (114, 115).
3. The villain plunders or spoils the crops (A3 ). The mare eats up the haystack (60). The bear steals the oats (82). The crane steals the peas (108).
4. The villain steals the daylight (A4). (This occurs only once  .)
5. The villain performs abduction in other forms (AS ) . The object of a theft fluctuates to an enormous degree, and there is really no necessity for registering all of its many forms. The object of a theft, as will be demonstrated later on, does not influence the process of action. It would be much more logically correct to consider all thievery, generally,
as one form of villainy, and all constituent forms of thievery (subdivided according to their objects and objectives) not as classes, but as subclasses. Nevertheless, it is technically more useful to isolate several of its most important forms while, on the other hand, generalizing about those remaining. Examples: the fire bird steals the golden apples (102); the burrowing beast each night eats animals
from the king's menagerie (73); the general steals the king's (nonmagical) sword (145), and so forth. 6. The villain causes bodily injury (A6). The servant girl cuts out the eyes of her mistress (70). The princess chops off Katoma's legs (116). It is-interesti~j4 llote that these forms (from a morphological point off view), are also forms of stealing. The eyes, for example, are placed by the servant girl in a pocket and are carried away, in the same manner as other stolen objects when put in their place. This is also true in the case of a heart that has been torn out of someone's breast.
7. The villain effects a sudden disappearance (A7). Usually this disappearance is the result of the application of bewitching or magical means; the stepmother lulls her stepson to sleep-his bride disappears forever (128). Sisters place knives and needles in the window through which Finist is supposed to fly-he wounds his wings and disappears forever (129). A wife flies away from her husband forever upon a magic carpet (113). Folktale No. 150 demonstrates an interesting form. There, disappearance is effected by the hero himself: he sets fire to the jacket of his bewitched wife, and she disappears forever. A special occurrence in folktale No. 125 might, conditionally, be placed in the same class: a bewitched man's kiss causes his bride's total loss of memory. In this case the victim is the bride, who loses her betrothed (Avii),
8. The villain demands or tricks his victim (A8). Usually this form constitutes the result of a deceitful agreement. The kipg of the sea demands his
son, who leaves his house (125).
9. The villain expels someone (A9): The stepmother drives her daughter out (52); the priest expels his grandson (82).
10. The villain orders someone to be thrown into the sea (A1°). The king places his daughter and son-in-law in a barrel and orders the barrel to be
thrown into the sea (100). Parents launch a small boat, carrying their sleeping son, into the sea (138). 11. The villain casts a spell upon someone or something (All). At this point one must take note of the fact that the villain often causes two or three harmful-acts at once. There are forms which rarely are encountered independently and which show a marked propensity for uniting with other forms. The casting of spells belongs to this group. For example: a wife turns her husband into a mare
and then drives him out (i.e., A91; 139); the stepmother turns her stepdaughter into a lynx and proceeds to drive her out (149). Even in instances when a bride is changed into a duck and flies away, we actually are presented with a case of expulsion, although, as such, it is not expressly stated (147, 148).
12. The villain effects a substitution (A12). This form also is mostly concommitant. The nursemaid changes the bride into a duckling and substitutes
her own daughter in the bride's place (A,,. ; 70 ). The maid blinds the king's bride and pretends to be the bride.
13. The villain orders a _murder to be committed (A13). This form is in actuality intensified variation of expulsion: the stepmother orders a servant to kill her stepdaughter while they are out walking (121). The princess orders her servants
to take her husband away into the forest and, there, to kill him (113). It is usual, in such cases, that the heart and liver of the victim be taken after the murder has taken place.
14. The villain commits murder (A14). This form is usually a component of other kinds of villainous acts or crimes and serves to intensify them: the princess steals her husband's magic shirt and then proceeds to murder him (i.e.,A14; 120). Elder brothers kill a younger brother and steal his bride (i.e., A14;102). The sister steals her brother's berries and then kills him (137).
15. The villain incarcerates, imprisons (A15 ). The princess imprisons Ivan in a dungeon (107). The king of the sea jails Semen as a prisoner (142).
16. The villain threatens forcible matrimony (A16). The dragon demands the princess as his wife (68). 16a. The same form among relatives (Axvi). The brother demands his sister for a wife (65).
17. The villain makes a threat of cannibalism (A17). The dragon demands the princess as his dinner (104). The dragon ate all the people in the village and threatens the last living person, a peasant, with the same fate (85).
17a. The same form among relatives (Axvii). The sister desires to devour her brother (50).
18. The villain torments at night (A1a). A dragon (113) and a devil (66) torment the princess at night; a witch flies to a maiden at night and sucks at her breast.
19. The villain declares war (A19). The neighbouring king declares war (96); similarly, a dragon brings a kingdom to ruin (77).
With this, the forms of villainy are exhausted within the confines of the selected material. However, far from all folktales begin with an affliction or misfortune. \There are, as well, other beginnings which often present the same development as folktales which begin with A. On examining this phenomenon, we will observe that these folktales contain a certain situation of insufficiency, or lack, which provokes quests analogous to those in the case of villainy. We conclude from this that lack can be considered as the morphological equivalent of, for example, abduction. Let us consider the following cases: the princess steals Ivan's talisman. The result of this abduction is that Ivan lacks the talisman. And so we see that a folktale, in omitting villainy, very often begins directly with a lack: Ivan desires to have a magical sabre or a magical steed, etc. Insufficiency, just as abduction, defines- the following, moment of initial plot: Ivan sets out on a quest. The same may be said in reference to the abducted bride, etc. In the first instance, a certain act is given, the result of which creates an insufficiency and provokes a quest; in the second instance a ready-made insufficiency is presented which also provokes a quest. _In the first instance, a lack is created from without; in the second it is realized from within.
We realize fully that the terms "insufficiency" and "lack" are not wholly satisfactory. But there are no words in the Russian language with which the given concept may be expressed completely and exactly. The word "shortage" sounds better, but it bears a special meaning which is inappropriate for the given concept. This insufficiency can be compared to the zero which, in a series of figures, amounts to a definite value. The given moment may be fixed in the following manner:
VIIIa. One member of a family lacks something, he desires to have something. (Definition: lack. Designation: a. ) These instances lend themselves to a grouping only with difficulty. It would be possible to break them down according to the forms of the recognition of lack (see pages 66-67); but here it is possible to limit oneself to a distribution according to the objects lacking. It is possible to register the following forms: 1) lack
of a bride (or of a friend, generally a human being). This lack is sometimes delineated very strongly (the hero intends to search for a bride), and sometimes it is not even mentioned verbally. The bachelor hero sets out to find a bride and thereby a beginning is given to the moment of the action ( al). 2) A magical agent is needed, for example, apples, water, horses, sabres, etc. (a2). z
3) Wonders are lacking (without magical power), as, the fire bird, ducks with golden feathers, a wonder-of-wonders, etc. (a3). 4) a specific form: the magical egg containing Kog~!ej's death (and the love of the princess) is lacking (a4 ). 5) Rationalized forms, money, the means of existence, are insufficient, etc. (ca s ). We note that similar beginnings from daily living sometimes develop quite fantastically; 6) various other forms (a6) .
The form of the folktale is not determined by the object of an abduction, nor by what is lacking. In consequence, there is no necessity for systematizing all instances for the sake of general morphological goals. One can limit oneself to the important ones, while those remaining may be generalized.
Here the following problem necessarily arises: far from all folktales begin either with misfortune or with the beginning just described. The tale of Emel the fool begins with the fool's catching a pike, not with a villainy. In comparing a large number of folktales, it becomes apparent, however, that the elements peculiar to the middle of the folktale are sometimes transferred to the beginning, in the manner mentioned here. The catching and pitying of an animal is a typical middle element, as we shall observe later on. Generally, elements A or a are required for each folktale of the class being studied. Other forms of initial plot do not exist.
IX. Misfortune or shortage is made known: the hero is either approached with a request and responds to it of his own accord, or is commanded and dispatched,
(Definition: mediation, the connective [conjunctive] moment. Designation: B.)
This function brings the hero into play. Under the closest analysis, this function may be subdivided into a number of components, but for our purposes this is not mandatory. The folktale
hero may be one of two types: 1) if a young girl is kidnapped, and her father disappears beyond the horizon (both of the young girl in question and of the reader), and if Ivan goes off in search of her, then the hero of the tale is Ivan (and not the kidnapped girl). Heroes of this type may be termed "seekers." 2) If a young girl or boy is kidnapped or driven out, and the thread of the narrative is linked to his or her fate and not to those who remain behind,
then the hero of the tale is, in effect, the kidnapped boy or young girl. Heroes of this variety may be called "victim- heroes."3 Seekers are absent from such tales. The problem of whether tales develop in the same manner when either type of hero is present will be treated further on. Suffice it to say, for the moment, that there is absolutely no instance, in our material, in which the narrative follows both seekers and victim-heroes in the same tale (cf. "Ruslan and Ludmila"). The topic of mediation is present in both cases. The meaning of this topic lies in the fact that it constitutes the signal for the hero's departure from home.
1. A call for help is given (with the resultant dispatch of the hero) (B1). The call usually comes from the king and is accompanied by promises.
2. The hero is immediately dispatched (B?). Dispatch is presented either in the form of a command or a request. In the former instance, it is often coupled with threats; in the latter case, with promises. Sometimes, as well, both threats and promises are given.
3. The hero departs from home (B3). In this instance the initiative for departure is often taken by the hero himself, apart from a sender or dispatcher. Parents bestow their blessing. The hero sometimes does not explain his genuine aims for leaving: he may, for example, ask for permission to go out walking, while, actually, intending to set off for a fight.
4. Misfortune is announced (B4). A mother tells her son about the abduction of her daughter that took place before his birth. The son sets out in search of his sister, without having been asked to do so by his mother (74). More often, however, the story of a particular misfortune does not come from parents but, rather, from various old women or passers-by, etc.
These four preceding forms are all attributed to seeker-heroes. The forms following are directly in relation to the victim hero type. ; The structure of the folktale makes it necessary for
the hero to home for one reason or another. If this is not accomplished by means of some form of villainy, then the connective moment is employed to this end."
5. The banished hero is taken away from home (B5):
The father leads his daughter, banished by her stepmother, into the forest. This form is interesting in a number of ways. Logically, the father's action is not necessary. The daughter could, herself, go to the forest. But the folktale insists upon parent-senders in the connective moment. It is possible to show that the form in question is a secondary formation; but this does not enter into the attempt of a general morphology. One must, as well, take note of the fact that abduction also adapts itself in relation to the princess, threatened by
the dragon. In such cases, she is transported to
the seashore. Yr,t, concurrently, a call for rescue \ ,
is issued. The process of action is determined by the call and not by the abduction to the seashore. This explains why abduction, in these instances, cannot be attributed to the connective moment.
6. The hero condemned to death is secretly freed (B6 ). A cook or an archer spares the young girl (or boy), frees her, and instead of killing her, slays an animal in order to be able to exhibit a heart and a liver as proof of the murder (121, 114). Moment B is defined as the factor provoking the setting out of the hero from home. If a dispatch presents the necessity for setting out, then, in this case, the possibility of departure is granted. The first instance is characteristic of the seeker-hero. The second applies to the victim-hero.
7. A lament is sung (B7). This form is specifically for a murdered person (and is sung by the remaining kin, by a brother, etc.), for one bewitched and banished, or for someone who has been replaced by a different person. Misfortune, by means of a lament, becomes known and calls forth counteraction.
X. The seeker agrees to or decides upon counteraction. (Definition: beginning counteraction. Designation: C.)
This moment is characterized in such words, for instance, as the following: "Permit us to go in search of your daughters, the princesses." In certain cases this moment is not expressed in words; but, naturally, a volitional decision precedes the search. This moment is characteristic only of those folktales in which the hero is a seeker. Banished, vanquished, bewitched, and substituted heroes demonstrate no volitional aspiration toward freedom, and in such cases this element of decision or agreement is lacking.
The hero leaves home. (Definition: departure. Designation: t . )
Departure, here, denotes something different from the temporary absence element, designated by (3. The departures of seeker heroes and victim-heroes are also various. The former have "the search" as their goal; the latter travel along a route in which a search is not involved, which, instead, prepares a series of adventures for them. It is necessary to keep the following in mind: if a young girl is abducted and a seeker goes in pursuit of her, then two characters have left home. Yet the route followed by the story and on which action is developed is actually the route of the seeker. If, for example, a girl is driven out and no seeker is present in a given tale, then the narrative is developed along the route of the victim-hero. The sign t designates the route of the hero, regardless of type. In several folktales a special transference of the hero is completely absent. The entire flow of action takes place in one location. Sometimes, quite to the contrary, departure is intensified to the point of assuming the character of flight.
i he elements ABC t present the inaugurations of the plot on which the course of action develops further.
At this juncture a new character enters the folktale: this personage might be termed the "donor, " or, more precisely, the provider. Usually he is encountered accidentally, in the forest, along the roadway, etc. (cf. Chapter VI, forms of appearance of folktale characters). It is from him that the seeker-hero obtains some means (usually magical) to be used in the eventual liquidation of misfortune. Prior to this, however, the hero experiences a number of different adventures which all lead to the moment when he eventually obtains a magical agent.
XII. The hero is tested, interrogated, attacked, etc. in preparation for receiving either a magical agent or helper. (Definition: the first function of the donor. Designation: D.)
1. The donor tests the hero (Dl). A witch gives a girl household chores to tend to (58). The forest knights propose that the hero serve them for three years (123). The hero is to serve three years in the service of a merchant (66). The hero is supposed to serve as a ferryman for three years, without remuneration (71). The hero must listen to the playing of the gusla without falling asleep (123). The apple tree, the river, and the stove offer a very simple meal (64). A witch proposes
an evening in bed with her daughter (104). A dragon suggests the raising of a heavy stone (71). (The former request is often written on the stone itself, and brothers, on finding it, attempt to raise it of their own accord.) A witch proposes the guarding of a herd of mares (94), and so forth.
2. The donor greets and interrogates the hero (DZ ). This form may be considered as a weakened method of testing. Greeting and interrogation is, of course, present, as well, in the forms mentioned above; but in these cases the elements did not have the character of a test but, rather, preceded same. In the examples to follow, direct testing is absent, and interrogation assumes the character of testing indirectly. If the hero answers rudely he receives nothing, but if he responds politely he is rewarded with a steed, a sabre, and so on.
3. A dying or deceased person's request for the rendering of a service or favor (D 3 ). This form sometimes takes on the character of a trial. For example, a cow asks the following: "Eat not of my meat, but gather up my bones. Tie them in a kerchief and bury them in the garden. Forget me not, and water them each morning" (56). A similar request is made by the ox in tale No. 117. Another type of last wish is evident in tale No. 105. Here, a dying father instructs his sons to spend three nights beside his grave.
4. A prisoner asks for his freedom (D4 ). The brazen little peasant is held captive and asks to be freed (68). A devil sits in a tower as a prisoner; he begs a soldier to free him (130). A jug fished out of water begs to be broken, i.e., the spirit imprisoned within the jug asks for its liberty (114).
4. The same as the preceding, stipulating, here, the preliminary imprisonment of the donor (*D4 ) . If, for example, as in tale No. 67, a wood goblin is caught and confined, the deed of capture and imprisonment cannot be considered an independent function: it merely sets the stage for the subsequent request of the captive.
5. The hero is approached with a request for mercy (DS ). This form might be considered as a subclass of the preceding class (4). It occurs either before capture or while the hero takes aim at a particular animal with the intention of killing it. Examples: the hero catches a pike who begs him to let her go (100b); the hero aims at animals
who beg to be spared (93).
6. Disputants request a division of property (D6). Two giants ask that a crutch and a broom be divided between them ( 107). Disputants do not always voice their request: the hero often proposes a division of some sort on his own initiative (d6). Beasts are incapable of dividing carrion; the hero apportions it for them (97).
7. Other requests (D7). Strictly speaking, requests constitute an independent class and their individual types, subclasses; but, in order to avoid an unwieldy system of designation, it is possible, on certain conditions, to consider all such varieties as classes
in themselves. :-saving defined the basic forms in question, one can generalize about those remaining: Mice ask to be fed (58); a thief asks the robbed person to carry the stolen goods for him (131). Further, a happening takes place which can be immediately divided into two classes: A fox is caught; it begs, "Don't kill me (a request for mercy, D5), cook a chicken with a little butter, it's fatter than me" (second request, D7). And, since imprisonment preceded this incident, the designation for the complete happening is =` D . Here is an example
of another occurrence of still a different character, though also preceded by a suppliant's either being threatened with, or caught up in, a helpless situation: the hero steals the clothes of a lady bather who begs him to return them (131). Sometimes a helpless situation occurs without the pronouncement of a request (fledglings become soaked in the rain, children torment a cat). The hero is presented, on these occasions, with the possibility of rendering assistance. Objectively, this amounts to a test, although subjectively the hero does not sense it per se (d7).
8. A hostile creature attempts to destroy the hero
(De). A witch tries to place the hero in an oven (62). A witch attempts to behead the hero during the night (60). A host attempts to feed his guests to rats at night (122). A magician tries to exhaust the hero, leaving him alone on a mountain (136).
9. A hostile creature joins in combat with the hero (D9 ). A witch fights with the hero, for example. Combat of one sort or another, taking place between the hero and various inhabitants of the forest in a forest hut, is a frequently recurring element. Combat, here, has the character of an
out and out brawl.
10. The hero is shown a magical agent which is offered as an exchange (D1°). A robber shows a cudgel (122); an old man reveals a sword (151). They propose these things as an exchange.
XIII. The hero reacts to the actions of the future donor. (Definition: the hero's reaction. Designation: E.) In the majority of instances, the reaction of the hero is either clearly positive or clearly negative.
1. The hero sustains (or does not sustain) an ordeal (E1).
2. The hero answers (or does not answer) a greeting (E z ).
3. He performs a favor (or does not) for a dead person (E 3 ).
4. He frees a captive (E4).
5. He shows mercy to a suppliant (E5).
6. He apportions something between disputants and reconciles them (E6 ). The request of disputants (or simply an argument with a stated request) more often evokes a different reaction. The hero deceives the disputants into running after an arrow which he shoots into the distance; and, in the meantime, he escapes with the disputed objects (Evi).
7. The hero performs other forms of services, favors (E7). Sometimes these services are performed
in response to requests; sometimes, as well, they are done purely through the generosity of the hero (a young girl feeds passing beggars ). A special subclass might be made by forms of services of a religious nature: the hero lights incense to
the glory of God. To this group one instance of a prayer might also be relegated (66).
8. The hero saves himself from an attempt on his life by employing the same tactics used by his adversary (E$). He puts the witch in the stove, ordering her to show how to climb in (62). The heroes change clothes with the daughters of the witch in secret; she proceeds to kill them instead of the heroes (60). The magician himself remains on the mountain where he wanted to abandon the hero (136).
9. The hero vanquishes (or does not vanquish) this adversary (E9 ).
10. The hero agrees to an exchange but immediately employs the magic power of the object exchanged against the barterer (E1°). An old man offers to
trade his magic sword to a cossack for a magic cask. The cossack agrees to the exchange, whereupon he orders the sword to cut off the old man's head while he, in the meanwhile, retrieves his cask (151).
XIV. A magical agent at the disposal of the hero. (Definition: the provision, receipt of a magical agent. Designation: F.)
The following things are capable of serving as magical agents: 1) animals (a horse, an eagle, etc.); 2) objects out of which helpers appear (a fire kindler containing a steed, a ring containing young
men, etc.); 3) objects possessing a magical property such as, cudgels, swords, gusla, balls, and so forth; ')qualities or capacities which are directly given, such as, the power of transformation into animals forms, etc. All of these objects of transmission we shall conditionally term magical agents.' The forms by which they are transmitted are the following:
1. The agent is directly transferred (Fl). Similar acts of transference often have the character of a reward: an old man presents a horse as a gift; forest animals offer their offspring, etc. Quite often the hero, instead of receiving a certain animal directly for his own use, obtains the power of turning himself into it at will (cf. Chapter VI). Several folktales end on the note of a reward. In these instances the gift amounts to something of innate material value and not a magical agent (f 1) . If a hero's reaction is negative, then the transference is not actuated (F neg.), or some form of fierce retribution can follow as a result of refusal. In cases such as these the hero may be devoured, frozen, may have his back injured, or may be thrown under a stone, etc (F contr.).
2. The agent is made known (F Z). An old woman shows the hero an oak tree under which lies a flying ship (83). An old man points out a peasant
from whom a magic steed may be obtained (78).
3. The agent is prepared (F3). "The magician went out on the shore, drew a boat in the sand and said: `Well, brothers, do you see this boat?' 'We do see it.' `Then get into it."' (78).
4. The agent is sold, purchased (F'). The hero buys a magic hen (114); he buys a magic dog and cat
(112), etc. The intermediate form between purchase and preparation is "preparation on order": The hero orders a chain to be made by a blacksmith, for example (60). (The designation for this 4
instance: F3 .)
5. The agent falls into the hands of the hero by chance (is found by him) (FS ). Ivan sees a horse in the field and proceeds to mount him (73); he comes upon a tree bearing magic apples (113).
6. The agent appears independently, of its own accord (F6 ). A staircase suddenly appears, leading up a mountain side (93). Agents sprouting out of the ground constitutes a special form of independent appearance (Fvi), by which magical bushes (56, 57), branches, dogs and horses (117), as well as dwarfs alike, make themselves available.
7. The agent is drunk or eaten (F7). This is not, strictly speaking, a form of transference, although it may be coordinated, conditionally, with such instances. Examples: three beverages provide the drinker with unusual strength (68); the eating of a bird's entrails endows the hero with various magical capacities (114).
8. The agent is stolen (F8). The hero steals a horse from a witch (94); he steals the objects of the disputants' quarrel (115). The application of magical agents on the person who exchanged them as a barter, and the seizing of given objects also constitute forms of stealing.
9. Various characters place themselves at the disposal of the hero (F9). An animal, for example, may either present its offspring or offer itself in the service of the hero, making, as it were, a present of itself. Compare the following incident: a steed does not always present himself directly, or by means of a kindling tool. Sometimes the donor informs the hero simply of anincantatory formula with which the hero may invoke the steed to appear. In this instance, Ivan is not actually given anything: he only receives the right to a helper. Another instance of this type is present when the donor offers Ivan the right to make use of him:
the pike informs Ivan of a formula by which he may call on the pike for help ("Say only this pike-command...." etc). If, finally, no formula is mentioned and, instead, the animal simply says, "Sometime I'll prove useful, " then, at that moment, the hero is assured of the aid of a magical agent in the form of the animal itself. Later on it will become Ivan's helper (f9). It often happens that various magical
creatures appear without warning, are met on a journey, offering their services and eventually becoming helpers (Fg). Mostly all of these are heroes either with extraordinary attributes, or in control of various magical means ~ (Obedalo, Opivalo, Moroz-Treskun).
Here, before continuing with the further registration of functions, the following question should be taken into consideration: in what combination does one encounter the types contained in the elements D (preparation of transmission), and F (transmission itself)?5 One need only state that, in the face of a negative reaction on the part of the hero, one encounters F neg. (the transmission ;does not take place), or F contr. (the unfortunate hero is punished). Under the condition of the hero's positive reaction, one encounters the combinations shown in Figure 1.
One can see from this scheme that the connections are exceptionally varied and that, in general, a wide range of substitution of certain variations for others is plausibly traceable. Yet if one examines this scheme with care, one immediately becomes aware of the absence of several connections. This absence is in part explained by the insufficiency of material. Nevertheless, certain combinations would not prove logical. Therefore the conclusion to be made is that there exist types of connections. In proceeding according to the designation of types from the forms of transmission of a magical agent. one can isolate two types of connections:
1. The abduction of a magical agent, linked with an attempt to destroy the hero (burn, etc.), with a request for apportionment, and, finally, with a proposal for an exchange.
2. All other forms of transmission and receipt are linked with all other preparatory forms. The request for apportionment belongs to the second type if the division is actually accomplished. If it is not, and the disputants are deceived, then this form belongs to the first type. Further, it is possible to observe that a find, a purchase, and a sudden independent appearance of a magical agent or help are mostly encountered without the slightest preparation. These are rudimentary forms. If, however, they are prepared in some manner or another, then they belong to the second rather than to the first type. One might, in connection with these matters, touch on the question of the character of donors. The second type most often presents friendly donors (with the exception of those who surrender a magical agent unwillingly as the result of combat), whereas the first type exhibits villainous (or, at any rate, deceptive) donors. These are not donors in the true sense of the word, but, rather, characters who, against their will, furnish the hero with something. Within the forms of each type, all combinations are possible and logical, whether actually present or not. In this manner, for example, an exacting or grateful donor is capable of giving, revealing, selling, or preparing an agent, or he may tell the hero how to find the agent, etc. On the other hand, a magical agent in the possession of a deceptive donor can be obtained only through theft, abduction. Therefore, for example, it is not logical if a hero performs a difficult task for a witch and then proceeds to steal a colt from her. This is not, of course, to say that such combinations do not exist; but in these instances the story teller is obliged to motivate fully the heroes' actions. Here is another model of an illogical connection which is clearly motivated: Ivan fights with an old man. During the struggle the old man inadvertently permits Ivan to drink some strength giving water. The "inadvertence" of this situation becomes understandable when one compares this incident with those folktales in which a beverage is given to the hero by a friendly or grateful donor. In this light one readily sees that the apparent lack of logic of the story teller is perfectly resolved.
If one were to follow a purely empirical approach, one would be inclined to confirm the possibility of the substitution of all varied forms of elements D and F in relation to each other.
Below are several concrete examples of connection:
Type II: D'E'Fl. Jaga instructs the hero to pasture a herd of mares. After completing a second task, the hero receives a steed (95).
DZEZF?. An old man interrogates the hero. He answers rudely and receives nothing. Later, he returns and responds politely, whereupon he receives a horse (9Z).
DIES F1. A dying father requests his sons to spend three nights beside his grave. The youngest son fulfills the request and receives a horse (195).
D3 E3 Fvl. A young ox asks the king's children to kill him, burn him, and plant his ashes in three beds. The hero does these things. From one bed an apple tree sprouts forth; from the second
a dog; and from the third a steed (118). Brothers find a large stone. "Should it not be moved?" (trial without a tester). The elder brothers cannot manage to move it. The youngest moves it, revealing below it a vault in which there are three horses (77).
This list could be continued ad libitum. It is important only
to note that in similar situations other magical gifts besides horses are presented. The examples given here, which include steeds, were selected for the purpose of more sharply outlining a morphological kinship.
Type I: D6Ev1F8. Three disputants request the apportionment of magical objects. The hero instructs them to chase after one another, and, in the meanwhile, he makes off with the object (s) (a cap, a blanket, boots, etc.).
D8E8F8. Heroes come upon a witch's house. At night she plans to behead them. Instead, they put her daughters in their place and run away, the youngest brother making off with a magic kerchief (61).
D'OE'OF8. Smat-Razum, an invisible spirit, serves the hero. Three merchants offer a little chest (a garden), an axe (a boat), and a horn (an army) in exchange for the spirit. The hero agrees to the barter but later calls his helper back to him.
We observe that the substitution of certain aspects by others, within the confines of each type, is practiced on a large scale. But another question crops up at this point: are not the objects of transmissions in fact linked to particular known forms of transmission (i.e., isn't a horse always presented as a gift while a flying carpet is always stolen)? Although our examination pertains solely to functions per se, it is nevertheless possible to indicate that a norm such as this does not exist. For example, the steed, given as a gift in the majority of cases recorded, is stolen in tale No. 95, whereas the magical handkerchief which is usually stolen is, instead, given to the hero in tale No. 94, as well as in a number of other cases.
Let us return to the enumeration of the functions of dramatis personae. The employment of a magical agent usually follows its receipt by the hero; or, if the agent received is a living creature, it is immediately- placed at the disposal of the hero as a helper. With this the hero outwardly loses all meaning; he himself does nothing while his helper performs all manner of deeds. The morphological significance of the hero is nevertheless very great, since-his intentions create the pivot on which the narrative. is based. These intentions appear in the form of various commanus ~~hich the hero gives to his helpers. At this point it is possible to render a more exact definition of the hero than what has p_-eceded. The hero of a fairy tale is that character who either directly suffers from the action in the initial plot of the villain (resp., senses
=e_ o- th_o aj-ees to liauidate the misfortune o.- shortage of another person. In the process of action, the hero is the person who is supplied with a magical agent (a magical helper), and who makes use of it.
XV. The hero is transferred, reaches, or is led to the whereabouts of an object of search. (Definition: spatial translocation between two kingdoms, guidance. Designation: G.)
Generally the object of search is located in another or different kingdom. This kingdom may lie far beyond the horizon, or either very high above or very deep below the ground. The means of transportation may be identical in most cases; but specific forms exist for great heights and depths.
1. The hero flies through the air (G'): on a steed (104); on a bird (121); in the form of a bird (97); on board a flying ship (78); on a flying carpet (113); on the back of a giant or a spirit (121); in the carriage of a devil (91), and so forth. Flight on a bird is often accompanied by a detail. Since it is necessary to feed the bird, the hero provides himself with an ox for the purpose before the journey.
2. He travels on the ground or on water (GZ ): on the back of a horse of wolf (102); on board a ship (138); a handless person carries one legless (116); a cat swims a river on the back of a dog (112).
3. He is led (G3 ). A tiny ball shows the way (129); a fox leads the hero to the princess (98).
4. The route is shown to him (G41. The hedgehog.
5. He makes use of stationary means of Communication (G' ). lie climbs a stairway (93); he finds an underground passageway and makes use of it (81); he walks across the back of an enormous pike, as enough across a bridge (93); he descends by means of a strap or line, etc.
6. He walks following bloody tracks (G6 ). The hero defeats the inhabitant of a forest but who runs away, hiding himself under a stone. Following
his tracks the hero finds the way into another kingdom.
With the preceding example we exhaust the forms of transference of t'-,e hero. "Delivery," as a function in itself, is often eliminated: the hero simply walks to some spot or other (i.e., function G amounts to a natural continuation of function In the latter function, G is not pointed out.
XVI. The hero and the villain join in direct combat. (Definition: struggle. Designation: H.)
This form needs to be distinguished from the struggle (hand to hand skirmish) with a villainous donor. These two forms can be recognized and contrasted according to the effects they produce. If the hero obtains an agent, for the purpose of further seeking, as the result of combat with a villainous character, this would be element D. We_ would designate as element H. a, situation whereby y_.the" hero would receive, as the result of combat, the very object of quest for which he was dispatched. -
1. They fight in an open field (H1). Fights with dragons or with 1~udo-Juda (68), or, as well, with an enemy army or knight, etc. (122).
2. They engage in a competition (H2). In humorous tales a fight itself often does not occur. After a squabble of some sort (often completely analogous to the squabble that precedes an out and out fight), the hero and the villain engage in a competition. The hero wins, with the help of cleverness: a gypsy puts a dragon to flight by brandishing a piece of cheese as though it were a stone, striking blows, at the same time, with a club, etc. (85).
3. They play at cards (H3 ). The hero and a dragon (a devil) play at cards (113, 90).
4. Tale No. 50 presents a special form: a dragon proposes the following to the hero: "Let IvanTsarevi~! get on the scales with me; one of the two will outweigh the other." (6)
XVII. The hero is branded. (Definition: branding, marking. Designation: J.)
1. A brand is applied to the body (Jl). The hero receives a wound during the skirmish. The princess awakens him before the fight, brands hint with a knife, making a small mark on his cheek (68); the princess brands the hero on the forehead with a
signet ring (114); she kisses him, leaving a burning star on his forehead.
2. The hero receives a ring or a towel (J- ). Both forms are joined in the case of a hero's being wounded in battle and subsequently having the wound
bound in the kerchief of either a king or queen.
XVIII. The villain is defeated. (Definition: victory. Designation: 1.).
1. The villain is beaten on an open field (IL). 2. He is defeated in a contest (1 Z).
3. He loses at cards (I3).
4. He loses at being weighed (I4).
5. He is killed without a fight (IS ). The serpent is killed while asleep (81). Zmiulan hides in the hollow of a tree; he is found and killed (99).
6. He is immediately driven out (I6 ). The princess, possessed by a devil, places an image around her neck: "The evil power flew away in a puff of smoke" (66).
Victory is also encountered in a negative form. In a case of two or three heroes who have assembled for combat, one of them (a general) hides, while the other is victorious (designation: *h )
XIX. The initial misfortune or lack is liquidated. (Designation: K.) This function, together with villainy (A), constitutes a pair. The narrative reaches its peak in this function.
1. The object of a search is abducted by means of force or cleverness (K'). Here heroes sometimes employ the same means adopted by villains for the initial abduction. Ivan's steed turns into a beggar who goes asking alms. The princess gives it to him. Ivan hops out of the underbrush; they seize her and carry her away (107).
1a. The object is sometimes attained by two personages, one of whom orders the other to perform the actual business of catching or obtaining something (Ki). For example, a horse steps on a crab and orders it to bring him a bridal dress; a cat catches a mouse, then orders it to fetch a little ring (112).
2. The object of search is obtained by several personages at once, through a rapid interchange of individual actions (K2). The distribution of action in this case is created by a series of unsuccessful attempts on the part of the abducted person to escape. The seven Semionov brothers obtain a princess; the thief kidnaps her, and she flies away in the form of a swan; the archer shoots her down, and a third, in the guise of a dog, retrieves her from the water, etc. (84). Similarly, the egg containing Kog~ej's death is stolen by a hare, a duck, and a fish (running, flying, and swimming); a wolf, a raven, and a fish obtain it (93).
3. The object of search is obtained by the help of a lure (K3). This form is, in many instances, quite close in nature to K. The hero lures the princess on board a ship with the aid of golden objects, then he kidnaps her (135). A special subclass might be made out of a decoy in the form of a proposal for an exchange. A blinded girl sews a wonderful crown and sends it to her thief-servant girl. In exchange for the crown she gives her back her eyes.
4. The obtaining of a sought after thing occurs as the direct result of preceding actions (K4). If, for example, Ivan kills a dragon and later marries the princess whom he freed by liquidating the dragon, we are not confronted with an example of receipt as a special act, but, rather, as a function which is a sequence in the process of the action. The princess is neither seized nor abducted; but she is, nevertheless, "obtained." She is obtained as a result of a struggle. Quest fulfillment in these cases is a logical element. It may be realized as the result of acts other than personal struggles. Thus Ivan can find a princess as the result of journeying, etc .
5. The object of search is obtained instantly through the use of a magical agent (K5). Two young men (appearing from inside a magical book) obtain a golden horned stag in a whirlwind (122).
6. The use of a magical agent overcomes poverty
(K6). A magic duck presents golden eggs (114). The magic tablecloth which sets itself, and the horse who scatters gold both belong here (108). Another form of the self-setting tablecloth appears in the image of a pike: "By the pike command and God's blessing let the table be covered and the dinner ready!" (101).
7. The object of search is hunted (K7). This form is typical for agrarian plunderings. The hero hunts the mare who steals hay (60). He hunts the crane who was eating the beans (109).
8. Enchantment is broken (K8). This form is typical for All (enchantment). The breaking of an enchantment or spell takes place either by burning a fur
hide or by means of formulae: "Be a girl once again! "
9. A slain person revives (K9). A hairpin or a dead tooth appears from a head (118-119). The hero is sprinkled with deadly and life-giving waters.
9a. Like the above instance, with the incidence of one animal effecting another's actions: a wolf catches a raven and tells its mother to bring deadly and life-giving waters (102). This means of revival, preceded by the obtaining of water, may be singled out as a special, subclass (Kix) (7).
10. A captive is freed (K10) . A steed breaks open the doors of a dungeon and frees Ivan (107). This form does not morphologically contain any general implications. For example, just as the freeing of a wood spirit creates the basis for his grateful attitude toward the hero, and for the transmission of a magical agent, it also implies the liquidation of an initial misfortune. Tale No. 145 evidences a special form of liberation: here, the king of the sea always drags his prisoner out onto the shore at midnight. The hero begs the sun to free him. The sun is late on two occasions. On the third occasion "the sun showed forth its rays and the king of the sea no longer could drag him back into bondage."
11. The receipt of an object of search is often accomplished by means of the same forms present in the receipt of a magical agent (i.e., it is given as a
gift, its location is indicated, it is purchased, etc.). Designation of these occurrences: KF1, direct transmission; KFZ, indication, etc., as in the above mentioned example.
XX. The hero returns. (Definition: return. Designation: A return is generally accomplished by means of the same forms as an arrival. It is, however, impossible to distinguish a special function that follows a return, since returning, in itself, already implies a surmounting of space. This is not always true in the case of a departure. On the one hand, the giving of a magical agent (a horse, an eagle, etc.) follows the departure, and thereupon either a flight or other forms of travel take place. On the other hand, return takes place immediately, as does arrival, in most instances. A return often has the character of a flight from someone or something.
XXI. The hero is pursued. (Definition: pursuit, chase. Designation: Pr.)
1. The pursuer flies after the hero (Prl). A dragon chases Ivan (95); a witch flies after a boy (60); geese fly after a girl (64).
2. He demands the guilty person (Pr'). This form is mostly linked with a chase involving actual flight through the air: the father of a dragon dispatches
a flying boat. Calls for the extradition of the guilty one, "Guilty one! " are shouted from the boat (68). 3. He pursues the hero, rapidly transforming himself into various animals, etc. (Pr3). This form, at several stages, is also connected with flight: a magi_ cian pursues the hero in the forms of a wolf, a pike, a man, and a rooster (140).
4. Pursuers (dragons' wives, etc.) turn into alluring objects and place themselves in the path of the hero (Pr4). "I'll run ahead and make the day hot for
him, and I shall turn myself into a green meadow. In this green meadow, I'll change into a well, and in this well there shall swim a silver goblet.... here they'll be torn asunder like a poppy seed (76). She-dragons change into gardens, pillows, wells, etc. The folktale does not inform us, however, as to how they manage to run ahead of the hero in order to set their traps.
5. The pursuer tries to devour the hero (Pr 5) . A shedragon changes into a maiden who seduces the hero, whereupon it changes into a lioness bent on
devouring Ivan (92). A dragon mother opens her jaws from heaven to the earth (92).
6. The pursuer attempts to kill the hero (Pr' ). lie tries to strike him on the head with a dead tooth (118).
7. He tries to gnaw through the tree in which the hero is sleeping. (Pry).
XXII. The hero is rescued from pursuit. (Definition: rescue. Designation: Rs.)
1. He is carried away through the air (sometimes he is saved by lightning fast running) (Rsl). The hero flies away on a horse (95), on geese (62).
2. The hero runs away, placing obstacles in the path of his pursuer on the way (Rsz). He throws a brush, a comb, a towel, etc. They turn into mountains, forests, lakes, etc. Similarly, Vertogor 'Mountain- Turner' and Vertodub 'Oak-Turner' tear down and break up mountains and oak trees, placing them in the path of the she-dragon (50).
3. The hero, while in flight, changes into objects rendering him unrecognizable (Rs3). A princess turns herself, as well as the prince, into a well, a ladle,
a church, and a priest (125).
4. The hero hides himself during his flight from the pursuer (Rs4). A river, an apple tree, and a stove conceal a maiden (64).
5. The hero is hidden by blacksmiths (Rss). A dragon demands the guilty person. Ivan hides himself with blacksmiths who seize the dragon by the
tongue and beat it with their hammers (76). An incident in tale No. 90 undoubtedly is related to this form: devils are placed in a knapsack by a soldier, are carried to blacksmiths and beaten to death with heavy hammers.
6. The hero saves himself, while in flight, by means of rapid transformations into animals, stones, etc. (Rsb). The hero flees in the form of a horse, a
ruff, a ring, a seed, a falcon, etc. (140). Transformation is essential to this form. Flight may sometimes be omitted. (Such forms may be considered as a special subclass: a maiden is killed, and a garden springs forth from her remains. When the garden is cut down, it turns to stone, etc.  .)
7. He avoids the temptations of transformed she-dragons (Rs 7). Ivan cuts the garden, the well, and so forth, from which blood flows forth (77).
8. He avoids being devoured (Rs8) : Ivan jumps his horse over the she-dragon's jaws, recognizes the lioness as the she-dragon, and thereupon he kills her (92).
9. He avoids an attempt on his life (Rs9). Animals extract a deadly tooth from his head in the nick of time.
10. He jumps to another tree (Rslo).
A great many folktales end on the note of rescue from pursuit, The hero arrives home and subsequently marries (provided he has obtained a girl). Nevertheless, this is not generally prevalent.
A tale often may have another misfortune in store for the hero:
a villain may appear once again, may steal whatever Ivan has obtained, and may finally kill him. An initial villainy is, in a word, repeated either in the same form as in the beginning of a given tale or, as sometimes happens, in another, new form, corresponding to the case in point. With this a new story commences. There are no specific forms of repeated villainies (i.e., we are once again confronted with either an abduction, an enchantment, or a murder, etc.), but there are specific villains connected with the new misfortune(s), namely, Ivan's elder brothers. Shortly after his arrival home they steal his prize and often kill him. If they permit him to remain alive, it is for the sake of instigating another search, for which a special barrier must, somehow, again be placed between the hero and the object of search. This is accomplished by their throwing him into a chasm (into a pit, a subterranean kingdom, or, as sometimes is the case, into the sea), into which he may sometimes fall for three days on end. Thereupon, everything begins anew (i.e., again, an accidental meeting with a donor; a successfully completed ordeal [or; service rendered], etc.; the receipt of a magical agent, its employment, in order that the hero may return home to his own kingdom). From this moment onward, development is different from in the beginning of the tale (to which we return later).
This phenomenon attests to the fact that many folktales are composed of two kinds of functions which may be labelled "moves." , A new villainous act creates a new move, and, in this manner, sometimes a whole range of folktales. Nevertheless, the process of development to be described later does constitute the continuation of a given tale, despite the fact that it also creates a new move. In connection with this, one must eventually ask how to distinguish the number of tales in each text.
VIII (bis). Ivan's brothers steal his booty from him and cast him into a chasm.
Villainy has already been designated as A. If the brothers kidnap Ivan's bride, the designation for this act would be A1. If they steal a magical agent, one is confronted with an AZ incident. Theft accompanied by murder is termed Ali. Forms connected with the hero's t being thrown into a chasm shall be designated as ,A1, =:;A?, TA14, and so forth.
X-XI (bis). The hero once more sets out in search of something (Gt) (cf. X-XI).
This element is sometimes omitted here. Ivan wanders about and weeps, as though not thinking about returning. Element B (dispatch) is also always absent in such instances, since there is no reason for dispatching Ivan once his bride, for example, has been kidnapped from him.
XII (bis). The hero once again is the subject of actions leading to the receipt of a magical agent (D) (cf. XII ).
XIII (bis). The hero again reacts to the actions of the future donor (E) (cf. XIII).
XIV (bis). A new magical agent is placed at the hero's disposal (F) (cf. XIV).
XV (bis). The hero once again reaches by himself or is transported to the location of the object of the quest (G) (cf. XV ). In this case he reaches home.
From this point onward, the development of the narrative proceeds differently, and the tale gives evidence of new functions.
XXIII. The hero, unrecognized, arrives home or in another
country. (Definition: unrecognized arrival. DesignaC ti on: 6A)
Here, two classes are distinguishable: 1) arrival home, in which the hero stays with some sort of artisan (goldsmith, tailor, shoemaker, etc.), serving as an apprentice; 2) he arrives either as a cook or a groom. At the same time it is sometimes necessary to single out and designate even a simple arrival.
XXIV. A FALSE HERO PRESENTS UNFOUNDED CLAIMS. (Definition:
unfounded claims. Designation: L.)
If the hero arrives home, the false claims are presented by his brothers. If he
is serving in another kingdom, a general, a water-carrier, or others present them.
The brothers pose as capturers of the prize; the general poses as the conqueror of
a dragon. These two forms can be considered special classes.
XXV. A difficult task is proposed to the hero. (Definition: the difficult task. Designation: M.)
This is one of the folktale's favourite elements. Tasks are assigned, as well, outside the connections previously described; these connections will be dealt with somewhat later. In the meanwhile, let us rather take up the matter of the tasks per se. These tasks are so varied that each would need a special designation as a special case. There is, however, no need yet to go further into these details. Although no exact distribution will be made, I shall enumerate, here, all instances present in the material on hand, having approximately arranged them into groups:
Ordeal by food and drink: to eat a certain number of oxen or wagonloads of bread; to drink a great deal of wine (77, 78, 83).
Ordeal by fire: to bathe in a burning hot cast-iron tub. This form is always connected with the previous ordeal (77, 78, 83). Bathing mentioned otherwise: a bath in boiling water (103).
Riddle guessing and similar ordeals: to solve an unsolvable riddle (132); to recount and interpret a dream (134); to explain the meaning of ravens' croaking at the king's window, and to drive them away (138); to find out
(to guess) the distinctive marks of the king's daughter (131).
Ordeal of choice: to select the sought after person among twelve identical girls (or boys) (125, 126, 240).
Hide and seek: to hide and stay hidden, avoiding discovery (130).
To kiss the princess in a window (105, 106).
To jump up on the gates (57).
Test of strength, cleverness, and fortitude: the princess perfumes Ivan at night, or rubs his hand (116, 76); to lift the heads of decapitated dragons (104); to break in a horse (116); to milk dry a herd of wild mares (103); to triumph over an amazon (118); to defeat a rival (101).
Test of endurance: to spend seven years in the tin kingdom (151).
As tasks of delivery and manufacture: to deliver a medicine (67); to obtain a wedding dress, a ring, and shoes (73, 79, 93, 103); to deliver the hair of the king of the sea (77, 133); to deliver a flying boat (83); to deliver running water (83); to deliver a troop of soldiers (83); to deliver seventy-seven mares (103); to build a palace during one night (112) (and a bridge leading to it '1121]); "prinesti k moemu neznaemomu _pod paru."
As tasks of manufacture: to sew shirts (59, 150); to bake bread (150). As the third task, the king asks who dances better.
Other tasks: to pick berries from a certain bush or tree (56, 57); to cross a pit on a pole (77); to have a candle light by itself (114).
The method of differentiation of these tasks from other highly similar elements will be outlined in the chapter on assimilations.
XXVI. A task is accomplished. (Definition: solution. Designation: N.)
Forms of accomplishment correspond, of course, to the forms of tasks. Certain tasks are completed before they are set, or before the time required by the person assigning the task in question (i.e., the hero finds out the princess' distinctive marks before he is requested to guess what they are). Preliminary solutions of this type shall be designated by the sign *N.
XXVII. The hero is recognized. (Definition: recognition. Designation: Q.)
He is recognized by a mark, a brand (a wound, a star marking), or by a thing given to him (a ring, towel, etc.). In this case, recognition serves as a function, corresponding to branding and marking. The hero is also recognized through his accomplishment of a difficult task (in this case an unrecognized arrival of the hero almost always precedes recognition of him). Finally, the hero may be recognized immediately upon his appearance after a long period of absence. In the latter case, parents and children, brothers and sisters, may recognize one another, etc.
XXVIII. The false hero or villain is exposed. (Definition: exposure. Designation: Ex.)
This function is, in most cases, connected with the one preceding. Often, it is the result of an uncompleted task (the false hero is incapable of lifting the dragon's heads). More often than not, it is present in the form of a story ("Here the princess told all about how it was."). Sometimes all events are recounted from the very beginning in the form of a folktale. The villain is among the listeners, and he gives himself away by expressions of disapproval (115). Sometimes a song is sung, telling of a series of
events that have occurred and, in being sung, serves to expose the villain (137). Other individual instances of exposure are also in evidence (144).
XXIX. The hero is given a new appearance. (Definition: transfiguration. Designation: T.)
1. A new appearance is directly effected by means of the magical action of a helper (T1). The hero passes through the ears of a horse (or cow) and receives a new, handsome appearance.
2. The hero builds a marvelous palace (TZ). He resides in the palace himself, as the prince. A maiden suddenly awakens after spending a night there (70). Although the hero is not always transformed in these instances, he, nevertheless, does undergo a change in personal appearance.
3. The hero puts on new garments (T3). A girl dresses in a (magical) dress and hat and suddenly assumes a radiant beauty (129).
4. Rationalized and humorous forms (T4). These forms are partly explained by those preceding (as their transformations), and, in part, must be studied and explained in connection with the study
of folktale anecdotes, whence they originate. Actual changes of appearance do not take place in these cases: a new appearance is achieved by means of deception. For example, a fox brings Kuzinka, who is supposed to have fallen into a
ditch. The fox is given the royal garments. Kuzinka appears in the royal attire and is taken for the king's son. All similar instances may be formulated in the following manner: false evidence of wealth and beauty is accepted as true.
XXX. The villain is punished. (Definition: punishment. Designation: U.)
The villain is shot, banished, tied to the tail of a horse, commits suicide, and so forth. At times, one of these incidences is accompanied by a magnanimous pardon (U neg.). Usually only the villain and the false hero of the secondary narrative are punished, while the first villain is punished only in those cases in which a battle and pursuit are absent from the story. Otherwise, he is killed in battle or perishes during the pursuit (a witch bursts in an attempt to drink up the sea, etc.).
XXXI. The hero is married and ascends the throne. (Definition: wedding. Designation: W.)
1. A bride and a kingdom are awarded at once. Otherwise, he receives half a kingdom, with the stipulation that he will receive the remainder after the death of the bride's parents (W*;-,).
2. Sometimes the hero simply marries without obtaining a throne, due to the fact that his bride is not a princess
3. Sometimes, to the contrary, only accession to the throne is taken into consideration (W,,ti).
4.If a new act of villainy interrupts a tale shortly before a bethrothal, then the first stage of action ends with a promise of marriage (W1).
5. Opposite to the preceding case, a married hero loses his wife; the marriage is resumed as the result of a quest (designation for a resumed marriage: WZ).
6. The hero sometimes receives a monetary reward or some other form of compensation in place of the princess' hand (W°).