Mouse & Moujik

STUART LITTLE--E. B. White--Harper ($2).

RUSSIAN FAIRY TALES--translated by Norbert Guterman--Pantheon ($7.50).

Over the lonely, intractable, life-giving land, the antagonist and provider, the primitive peasant labors achingly by day. At sundown, with his last strength, he feeds and beds the creatures for whom his concern must always be so much greater than for himself. Then night comes down--night which is even more mysterious than day. By the fire, in warmth and light, the man may rest. But he cannot forget the great darkness which is closing in. The forces of the earth, the impulses of growing vegetation, the flow of waters, the sweep of winds, the souls of animals, the souls of men good & evil, the living, the dead, press in upon him from, the night. He finds relief from their imminence in simple patterns of beauty and dread--and the primitive fairy tale is born.

Centuries later, the dryads have died from the trees and the naiads from the pools. Man seeks escape from pressures of another kind--the weight of desiccating factualism and the steel girders of civilization which he has built around him to shut out the night and the enemy, nature. Then, in his distress, the sophisticated fairy tale is born.

These two books exemplify both types of tale.

Stuart Little. "When Mrs. Frederick C. Little's second son was born, everybody noticed that he was not much bigger than a mouse. The truth was. the baby looked very much like a mouse in every way. He was only about two inches high; and he had a mouse's sharp nose, a mouse's tail, a mouse's whiskers, and the pleasant shy manner of a mouse. Before he was many days old he was not only looking like a mouse but acting like one, too--wearing a gray hat and carrying a small cane. . . . The doctor was delighted with Stuart and said that it was very unusual for an American family to have a mouse."

With this musine bow, Stuart Little pops out of the pocket of his creator, New Yorker writer E. B. White, and begins his adventures.

When Mrs. Little lost her ring down the bathtub drain, Mr. Little suggested that they lower Stuart into the drain on a string. Soon Stuart came up with the ring around his neck. "How was it down there?" asked Mr. Little, who was always curious about places he had never been to. "It was all right," said Stuart.

Stuart used to get up before the rest of the family. "To get to the wash basin, he had to climb a tiny rope ladder which his father had fixed for him. . . ." But he could not turn on the faucet. "So Stuart's father provided him with a very small, light hammer made of wood; and Stuart found that by swinging it three times around his head and letting it crash against the handle of the faucet, he could start a thin stream of water flowing--enough to brush his teeth in, anyway."

As a result of showing off to the Littles' cat, Stuart was rolled up in a window shade. The Littles thought he had disappeared down a mousehole (it was an obsession Mrs. Little had). So they got down on all fours "and put their mouths as close as possible to the mousehole. Then they all called: 'Stooooo-art!' "

The Littles lived near Manhattan's Central Park, where sailboat enthusiasts like to sail their miniature craft. In one of the headiest competitions since the America's Cup races, Stuart sailed the Wasp to victory.

On the window ledge Mrs. Little found a numbed bird and revived it. The bird's name was Margalo. With Stuart it was love at first sight. Later he saved Margalo's life by bravely shooting the family cat in the ear with an arrow. Margalo saved him from a garbage scow into which he had accidentally been dumped. Then Margalo disappeared. Stuart left home quietly, got himself a tiny automobile and went in search of her. And so he drives abruptly out of Author White's slim (131-page) book--one of the most lovable little boys (despite his mousiness) in literature. Stuart Little is a tale of few laughs and many smiles. Adults may read into it any meanings they like. Children will read and reread it for fun.

Russian Fairy Tales. There are nearly 200 stories in Translator Guterman's 662-page book. They were taken from the collection made in Czarist days by famed folklorist Alexander Nikolaievich Afanasiev.

Many of these tales have been told before in other lands, in other tongues. Ali Baba, Aladdin, Big Klaus and Little Klaus and many others are here in naturalized form. But the background of these Russian stories is the vast steppes, the dark conifer forests, the softly falling snow. They are dominated by strange creations of the Slav mind--Baba Yaga (the witch who lives in a little hut that stands on hen's legs), the Sea King (who rises from the depths to enslave human beings), Zhar-ptitsa (the Firebird), Koshchey the Deathless, who is really "little father death." These stories throb with a violence that makes the atrocities of German fairy tales seem tame. If you do not finish by morning, says the Czar curtly, assigning to the hero some impossible task, I will have you shot. A King, enraged at his wife, wishes to hang her. But his friends counsel moderation: "Rather, build a chapel next to the church, and put your wife in it; whoever goes to Mass is to spit in her face."

Nevertheless, the best of these tales have the fragile beauty, the perfection of form of snow crystals. Prince Ivan, the Firebird, and the Gray Wolf is typical:

"In a certain land in a certain kingdom, there lived a King called Vyslav Andronovich." The King had a garden with an apple tree that bore golden fruit. "The Firebird took to visiting King Vyslav's garden; her wings were golden and her eyes were like oriental crystals." Every night she stole the golden apples. King Vyslav called his sons: "My beloved children, which of you can catch the Firebird in my garden? To him who captures her alive I will give half my kingdom during my life, and all of it upon my death!" The princes answered with one voice: "Your Majesty, gracious sovereign, little father, with great joy will we try to take the Firebird alive!"

First Prince Dimitri tried, but he fell asleep. Prince Vasily fell asleep too. But Prince Ivan snatched one feather from the Firebird's tail as she tore herself from his grasp. "This feather was so marvelously bright that when it was placed in a dark room it made the whole room shine as if it were lit up by many candles. King Vyslav put the feather in his study as a keepsake, to be treasured forever." But the King still wanted the Firebird taken alive. So prince Ivan rode in search of her.

"He rode near and far, high and low, along bypaths and by-ways-- for speedily a tale is spun, but with less speed a deed is done-- until he came to a wide, open field, a green meadow. And there in the field stood a pillar, and on the pillar these words were written : 'Whosoever goes from this pillar on the road straight before him will be cold and hungry. Whosoever goes to the right side will be safe and sound, but his horse will be killed.'" What happened when Prince Ivan turned to the right, his adventures with Gray Wolf, King Dolmat, King Afron, Elena the Fair, and Death, are a story that is as ferally haunting as the flight and cry of wild swans.

For those who want a glimpse of the Russian peasant mind--and that is still the most numerous mind in Russia--this book is indispensable.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.