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Justice in the end: Rump finally pulls the long straw
Have you noticed the trend towards making fairy tales politically correct? The alterations can be minor, such as this: Little Red Riding Hood now takes tea instead of wine to her grandmother. Or, they can be entirely plot-altering in nature: the Big Bad Wolf is actually a vegetarian employed by the government to test homes for durability in the face of gale-force winds. Why are the pigs so afraid, then? Perhaps they owe taxes on their unfortunate real estate investments. Although these stories may be more palatable and easier on the conscience, after all the greed, lust, villains, and violence have been sapped out of the stories, what’s left for the kids to enjoy? They might as well watch the nightly news or read their Bibles to get their fill.
My kids have always loved the Rumpelstiltskin story, but I wonder what values this fairy tale imparts. You’d have to agree that Rump (am I being too informal?) has been given a bad rap in literature, or pardon the puns, the short end of the straw. Why is he depicted as such a villain?
Let’s lay out the facts of Rump’s case. An old man claims his daughter can spin gold out of straw. Now, over-exaggeration of a child’s abilities is a phenomenon that occurs in some parents, but this miller seems to be afflicted quite severely. Actually, he crosses the line of exaggeration and steps into threshold of plain, old-fashioned lying. And he’s a pretty bold-faced liar, too. Consider that fact that he’s not content to casually boast over his neighbor’s fence. No, that’s not high enough for him. He has to take his tale (tail?) to the highest office in the land, directly to the ears of the king himself.
The father thinks the king will be so impressed with his daughter’s physical beauty (things haven’t changed much, I’m afraid) that he will immediately drop to his royal knees with a proposal of marriage (well, maybe they have in some respects). Boom - the payoff - an annuity and perhaps a summer cottage for the royal father-in-law, retired miller and yarn spinner extraordinaire. If alive today, the miller would be in hot demand to manage any number of political campaigns.
The king is described as a greedy man because he immediately sets the daughter to work. Well, duh. The king is not just going to accept every fantastical thing he hears. He’s going to do a little test drive first. And if, in the bargain, he can convert piles of straw into gold (think: PBS Antiques Roadshow), then why not? Is this greed or wisdom?
So here’s the damsel in distress. The miller’s daughter (notice that none of the other characters in this story even has a name – no wonder they’re so keen on taking even that away from the poor little guy) is in despair, locked into a room full of straw by the wise but greedy king. I am sure she is miserable enough. I only hope she doesn’t have allergies too. Rump shows up in her hour of darkness and solitude. He saves her skin by offering to exchange a sentimental piece of gold for loads of the stuff. What need does a gold-spinning fellow have for her little necklace? Already, you can see he’s in love with her. He just wants some token from her, that’s all.
Granted, he is vertically challenged. (“Dwarf” is no longer an acceptable term, is it?) But surely we have progressed beyond the old fairy-tale notion that unattractive people are evil and vice versa. Actually, Rump is a downright nice guy, and willing to do anything to win this girl.
He rescues her a second time from a bigger crisis. On the third night, when she has nothing left to give, he does not ask her to compromise her honor. As she has nothing left to give, he asks for a future pledge of faith: her first-born child. She is horrified by the idea, but not actually horrified enough to decline his help.
The miller’s daughter, lured by the promise of fame and fortune, plans to get the goods now and then exercise the convenient memory loss that accompanies holding office. Will she confess the truth to the king? Of course not. Remember, she is a product of the miller, and what is a little suppression of the truth when compared with his outright lies?
Let’s examine motives here. Why does Rump want a child? Perhaps it is his way only way of remembering the love of his life. (This story takes place before cameras and YouTube, remember?) Yes, I’ve thought about the lock of hair that he might have requested, but he had probably picked plenty out of all that straw he recycled.
In the end, when Rump comes to collect on the goods, he’s treated like some vindictive criminal who is out after serving time. (Has anyone seen “Cape Fear”?) Even so, this little man is big-hearted; he graciously gives her three chances to get out of her end of the agreement. He has waited patiently for at least a year while Her Majesty has been enjoying her royal self! But, corrupted by power, the Queen cheats. She sends spies all over the place; poor Rump has his privacy invaded when he wasn’t even using a cell phone! After having a secret stolen so someone could weasel out of an agreement, I would have been hopping mad too. Too bad his temper gets the best of him and he disappears right down the floorboards. Who is the royal contractor, by the way, and is everything in the palace made of straw?
So, Rumpelstiltskin makes an exit in this violent freak accident while everyone else continues to live happily ever after. (I think this is supposed to cure young children from having fits and stamping their feet.) Even if you don’t mourn the loss of this unfortunate character, you must agree that it is a tragic waste of talent. Couldn’t the king and queen have employed the little man to help out in the nursery, since he loved little children so much? In the evenings, he could have retired to his rooms, which could conveniently have been filled with straw furniture. If they had treated him well that day, perhaps he might surprise them the next morning with his little Midas touch redecorating service.
In its original form, Rumpelstiltskin is more of an “unfairy” tale. If you don’t mind an altered version, read Rumpelstiltskin’s Daughter by Diane Stanley. (I’m going to place a request that our library purchase this for the children’s collection.) The pictures are beautiful and exquisitely detailed, as in her numerous picture biographies that our library does have. Here, the miller’s daughter ditches the idea of marrying the avaricious king for the kindhearted Rumpelstiltskin, admitting that she has always had a weakness for short men. This one is a completely charming version of an old yarn, even in spite of its political correctness.
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