Charles Perrault (1628–1703) was well advanced in years when he built his greatest monument.
As first commissioner of royal buildings, he appointed his brother, an architect, to complete the work on the Louvre and to build the Paris Observatory. He served as secretary to the newly founded Academy of Inscriptions and Belles-Lettres, helped establish the Academy of Sciences, and held the post of chancellor at the French Academy.
Even before his retirement around age 55 from public service, Perrault was also a prolific writer of verse, often long poems with Christian themes. In addition, he composed a four-volume work defending the art and science of his day as opposed to those who cherished the culture of the ancient Greeks and Romans.
Despite Perrault’s engagement in public life, today only historians remember him for these many achievements. The rest of the world knows Charles Perrault as the father of the fairy tale.
In 1697, under the name of his youngest son—he feared criticism from his literary enemies—Perrault published “Tales and Stories of the Past With Morals“ (”Histoires ou Contes du Temps Passé“), also known by its subtitle “Tales of Mother Goose” (“Les Contes de Ma Mère l'Oie”). Originally having gathered together eight of these traditional oral stories, Perrault soon added three more to his “Mother Goose” collection.
At the time of his death, the books were selling wildly, purchased by an audience who had heard these stories in their childhood and wished to share them with their own children. Over a century later, between 1842 and 1913, some 230 editions of this collection found readers around the world.
The Standard: Perrault’s
Though variations exist, Perrault’s version remains the template for Cinderella stories.Here in his tale are the elements we know so well: the cruel stepmother, the two nasty stepsisters, and the fairy godmother who grants Cinderella’s wish to attend the royal ball. With her magic, the fairy godmother transforms a pumpkin into a coach, six mice into splendid horses, a rat into the coachman, and six lizards into footmen. Another touch of her magic wand, and Cinderella’s “clothes turned into cloth of gold and silver, all beset with jewels.”
And off our heroine goes to the ball, forewarned by her godmother that at the stroke of midnight all her finery, coach, and attendants would lose their magic and become just as they were. As soon as she enters the great hall of the royal palace, the dancing and the music stop, and the crowd falls silent, “so entranced was everyone with the singular beauties of the unknown newcomer.” The prince himself becomes so smitten by her beauty and grace that he “ate not a morsel.”
In Perrault’s telling, Cinderella leaves that ball before midnight, returns the next evening even more finely decked out, and again casts her spell of beauty over the attendees—but loses track of time and barely escapes before her gown and jewels revert to rags. She manages to arrive home with one of her glass slippers, but loses the other in her hasty retreat from the festivities.
The smitten prince decrees that the maiden whose foot fits the slipper will become his bride. Even though she is mocked by her stepsisters, Cinderella asks to try her foot in the slipper. When it fits perfectly, “as if it had been made of wax,” she pulls the other slipper from her pocket.
Her fairy godmother makes an appearance, touches her with the wand, and she glitters once more like the beauty at the ball. The stepsisters throw themselves at her feet and beg her forgiveness for their mistreatment. Cinderella embraces them and offers pardon, saying that she “wanted them always to love her.”
Cinderella Off the Page
Perrault’s “Cinderella” has not only appeared in hundreds of different editions, including anthologies, but has also attracted audiences through dance, plays, and film. Just this past October, for instance, choreographer Ben Stevenson directed the Philadelphia Ballet in Sergei Prokofiev’s “Cinderella.”From 1957, for instance, we have this remarkable event. Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II made a musical of “Cinderella” for television. This one-time show—television was then “live”—was watched by more than 107 million people, the largest TV audience in history up to that time, a number that made up 60 percent of the American population.
The cinematography is beautifully done, the costumes lavish, and the actors—particularly Lily James as Cinderella, Richard Madden as the prince, and Cate Blanchett as the stepmother—give outstanding performances. But surely the film’s most notable asset is its portrait of love, romance, and virtue.
The most refreshing thing about this film is that, at several turns, it portrays a world in which the virtuous choice is the beautiful choice, and the reason for a character’s likeability is not her spectacular good looks, but ultimately her pure and virtuous heart, according to fairly traditional standards.
The Moral of This Story Is ...
“I have to tell you a secret that will see you through all the trials that life can offer,” says her dying mother to Cinderella in Branagh’s film. “Have courage and be kind.”Moral: Beauty in a woman is a rare treasure that will always be admired. Graciousness, however, is priceless and of even greater value. This is what Cinderella’s godmother gave to her when she taught her to behave like a queen. Young women, in the winning of a heart, graciousness is more important than a beautiful hairdo. It is a true gift of the fairies. Without it nothing is possible; with it, one can do anything.
Another moral: Without doubt it is a great advantage to have intelligence, courage, good breeding, and common sense. These, and similar talents come only from heaven, and it is good to have them. However, even these may fail to bring you success, without the blessing of a godfather or a godmother.
A Message Especially for Us
From both Perrault’s story and Branagh’s movie, we moderns might draw one more lesson from Cinderella about the value and beauty of innocence. In an age such as ours, when so many people want children to be taught about sexuality as if it were a course in auto mechanics, and when even the definitions of a man and a woman are up for debate, the story of Cinderella can act as a counterweight.
Her story embodies the virtues of purity, a heart unsullied by resentment over her cruel treatment, and a heart that understands and longs for true love.
The cinematic “Cinderella” ends with these words: “And Ella continued to see the world not as it is, but as it could be, if only you believe in courage, and kindness, and occasionally, just a little bit ... of magic.”
Our children need that magic.
And so, as Charles Perrault might tell the rest of us, do we all.
