Welcome to the world of traditional literature

What's traditional literature?

        You have probably heard of tales like 'Cinderella' and the 'Three Little Pigs', but do you know how many times they have been retold? Stories like these are part of the genre known as traditional literature, which are stories that have been passed down through generations. Much of traditional literature was initially told orally and written down later on. Because of this, the stories are often altered slightly in each retelling. For example, Cinderella's name in other versions has been 'Zezolla' and 'Cendrillon.' Nevertheless, the heart of the story will still remain.

The purpose of traditional literature is having the story be relatable to everyone. For this reason, universal themes are important to the genre. Some common themes include good versus evil, the weak versus the strong, the beautiful versus the ugly, and the rich versus the poor. Even if the characters are magical or nonhuman, the message of the story is always one that the majority of people can understand and value. HERE ARE SOME EXAMPLES ABOUT TRADITIONAL LITERATURE AROUND THE WORLD:

The Three Wood-fairies

The  great plain north of the Harz mountains was not always the smiling, fruitful tract of land the eye now beholds.

A great lake covered a large portion of it; the ground around this lake was swampy and unfruitful, and dense forests shut out the sunlight.

But the deep shadows of these woodlands, where the foot of man seldom wandered, this sacred stillness, undisturbed by the noise and bustle of human life, was notwithstanding peopled.

Creatures of tender form and rare beauty — not so ethereal as the air, not so material as man — danced lightly, as if borne by the breezes, through the woods, which were their possession, intimately interwoven with their existence, for they grew with the trees which they inhabited, and drooped and died with them.

When the moon mounted her blue throne, and cast her pure silvery glance over the silent and noble forests, it was as if a light shiver fell on the trees, as if they became animated, and assumed the forms of maidens, who in the pale light skipped on the mountains, or descended to the lake or the Bode, to visit their neighbours the mermaids, still and innocent as themselves, who swam the light waves radiant in the smile of the moon.

But as time went on these pleasant reunions were interrupted by the human race, which penetrated the forests, mercilessly cut down everything that stood in the way of its selfish ends, and made these peaceful regions the stare of its vain ambitions and aims, never dreaming that with every tree that was hewn down a life more pure and beautiful than its own was destroyed.

Soon the joy at these nightly assemblies was changed to sorrow, and when the moonlight called the fairy forms of wood-nymphs and mermaids into life, they wept together over their vanished sisters and friends, and not one was sure that the following day the same sad fate would not be her destiny.

A powerful kaiser was come into the district with a vast retinue and an army, had built himself a Burg on the banks of the Bode, and bestowed the land on his followers, who were to cut down trees, drain swamps, and transform the wilderness into a fruitful plain.

The woods gave place speedily to a bare tract, and the maiden circle grew ever smaller. There, on the mountain west of Thale, where in its bosom the antediluvian giant animal skeletons were found, an old warrior had received permission from the kaiser to clear the land.

He toiled unweariedly, dug the soil, felled the trees one after the other, till of the sacred grove only three trees were left standing.

"Now, only these three trees left," thought he to himself, stretched himself wearily in the grass to rest a minute and strengthen himself for the last stroke; but fatigue overcame him, so that he sank into a deep sleep, and only woke up when the moon and stars shone in the heavens.

Then he saw three maidens sitting under the green roof of a maple tree, silent and mournful; their eyes were wet as if dewdrops hung in the drooping eyelashes; they uttered complaining words in soft tones like the rustling of the night wind in the leaves.

"Let us take leave of each other," lisped softly the voice of one; "our time is come. When the rosy dawn awakes he will come who cut down our sisters; and as they are fallen, so must we. Desolate will be the spot that saw us so oft united in joy, lonely the moonlight that shone on our dance. The nymphs of the lake and the mountain stream will look out for us, longing for our coming, and ask, 'Where are our friends of the mountain? Why do they not descend when the queen of the stars illuminates our palace?' Happy sisters, you are as yet safe from our mournful fate, for you are secure in your retreat from the barbarian!"

"Do not weep, sister!" said another, with light moaning; "do not weep over our inevitable destiny. To see that we must die grieves me not, for all our beloved are gone on before us; but that we are the last of our race, and our line becomes extinct with us, that fills my heart with woe.

"That our race might continue I would live on, and if I could appear in person to him who will come in the morning with his axe to annihilate us, I would entreat him for the blessing of life, and he would not refuse my entreaty.

"But only night makes us comprehensible to men; the day confines us stiff and without form in our narrow house."

"Ah! if we could only appear to him!" added the third; "if we could only appear and beg him for life, we should not plead in vain; I have seen him mourn too, have heard him lament the beautiful forest.

"And what benefit would it be to him to destroy us also? What benefit has it been to him that he has destroyed our sisters? Will the products of this soil repay the labour of tillage? But we would gladly, though invisible, help him to cultivate the land during the hours when we have a form, if he would take pity and spare the last of a great race."

The old soldier, who had listened in surprise to this singular conversation, could contain himself no longer.

"By the sword of my kaiser!" he cried; springing to his feet, "cursed be the hand that should do you an injury, you innocent beings; destroy you I won't, but protect and defend you with my goods, blood, and life.

"But who are you? Was it a dream that charmed my senses?"

Terrified, the maidens had vanished at his first words. Now their voices resound from the trees as they reply to his question.

"No dream has deceived you. You have seen the last of the wood-nymphs who adorn this mountain. If you will protect them, so spare the trees of the wood that still stand; they will thank you."

Dawn broke over the mountains, the voices were silent; they sighed in the morning wind, but the soldier could not understand the tones. At first he was inclined to hold all for a dream, but what he had heard stood so clear in his mind that he finally doubted no longer, and zealously defended the three trees.

On his dying bed he commended them to his sons, and charged them never to sell the land.

A long time the fields near the three trees thrived above all others, and at night three maiden forms could be seen following the plough in the moonlight.

But alas! The trees and land came into the hands of an owner who held the story of the three woodfairies for a fable, and he cut the trees down.

Since then the mountain has been barren and fruitless, and the three sisters have never been seen with the plough again.

The Five Chinese Brothers