A Cultural Analysis of The Frog Prince from Germany, Korea, and China
Fairytales are characteristically full of magic, often involving upper class characters—princes, princesses, kings, and queens. The Frog Prince is no exception; the story is about a handsome prince trapped in the repulsive body of a frog, but who nevertheless overcomes and transcends this bewitched state through his wit, perseverance, and magic. Its variants in German (the Grimm’s version), Korean, and Chinese are selected here for a cultural analysis. Among the three tales, the basic allegorical casting of the frog as a figure socially debased and physically repulsive remains the same. There are, however, differing cultural subtleties on a plot level: (1) the role/demeanor of the father-in-law; (2) the temperament of the princess/bride; (3) the level/type of magical elements deployed by the frog; and (4) the denouement/moral of the tale. If the common thread among the three variants—the lowly depiction of the frog—kindles a certain sense of collective consciousness in the reader, the cultural disparity/uniqueness replete in the texts, on the other hand, makes known the vast world of cultural diversity that calls for respect and tolerance, if not acceptance. For example, The Frog Prince of Germany exemplifies the Western chivalric tradition of “romance” and “code of honor.” Yet, Korean version illuminates “the rigid class system” and “filiality” of the East. Finally, the Chinese version explores something entirely unique to China—the military prowess and political savvyness that are essential in one’s staying power in a culture that is historically overstretched with political turmoil and dissonance among its countless provinces in a boundless continent.
What is embedded in the seemingly simple fairytales—the three variants of The Frog Prince that represent the cultures of Germany, Korea, and China—are the sociopolitical backgrounds that each story entails. These geo-culturally varied tales stimulate, cultivate, and enhance the reader’s cross-cultural collective consciousness. Correspondingly, Eugen Weber in “Fairies and Hard Facts: The Reality of Folktales,” corroborates to this effect: She believes that “fairy tales, can tell us a great deal about [the] real conditions [of the] world” which it represents (Weber 96). However, before immersing into an analysis of what Weber calls “the real conditions” that each tales represent, it helps to first recognize the common thread among the three that connects the culturally diverse variants together.
Most conspicuously, the common feature in all three frog tales is the lowly depiction of the frog. There is an immense socio-economic gap between the frog and his bride-to-be in all three tales. In the Grimm version, the frog’s bride-to-be is the youngest princess of a king. Similarly, in Chinese version, she is a daughter of a powerful emperor. In Korean version, the father of the bride is not a king/emperor, but a rich nobleman. Thus, in all three tales, the fact that the frog’s object of desire (his bride) is a daughter of higher status than that of the frog heightens the social paltriness of the frog in relation to the bride’s social stature.
Whereas the socio-cultural status of the three frogs are uniformly that of the lowest stature, their phenotypical physicality are given varying degrees of human qualities. For example, in the Grimm’s version, the frog remains as an animal until the spell is lifted, literally and metaphorically aligning his status with that of “inconsequential member” of the animal kingdom and human society. In contrast, Korean and Chinese texts anthropomorphize the frog as an adopted-son of a poor fisherman or a biological-son of a peasant, respectively. For instance, in Korean version, a childless couple receives the enchanted frog that follows the fisherman (the husband) into their house. The wife raises him like her own child. Chinese version, on the other hand, is a bit more radical. Here, a poor man’s wife goes into labor as the husband leaves home to find a living somewhere far away. The wife delivers the “child” while he is away, not a human, but a frog. She raises him as her own. One day the husband returns and is shocked; he is unwilling to accept the frog as his own son until he sees that the frog has certain supernatural powers. Thus, in Asian tales, the frog’s nascent humanization takes place before it confronts matrimonial issues (and fully matures or metamorphoses into a human being after the marriage). Irrespective of the frog’s human/non-human qualities, its socio-economic standing nonetheless occupies the lowest of the social hierarchy in all three tales, underscoring the class barrier and the inaccessibility of the bride.
While the colossal class gap between the frog and his bride-to-be runs parallel in all three variants, the role/demeanor of the bride’s father offers insights that are unique to each culture. For instance, the German king not only stresses the moral of “keeping one’s word” which reflects his heroic culture, but also seems to overlook/encourage sexual courtship of the frog and his daughter, exemplifying the romantic mentality of the West. The king, for example, when his daughter (the princess) complains to him about the importunate frog, unsympathetically instructs her “that which [she] ha[s] promised must [she] perform” (Hunt 2). Throughout the text, though the princess is continually uncooperative with and cruel to the frog, she obeys her father and “open[s] the door” for the frog that has been knocking relentlessly. The frog, upon gaining his entry, makes his romantic passes/threats to the princess, such as “carry me into your little room and…we will both lie down and go to sleep” (Hunt 2). Otherwise, the frog says, “[he] will tell [her] father” (Hunt 2). Thus, because the courtship is sanctioned by the king, the frog’s only obstacle is the princess herself. He pines after her affection, and schemes to have sex with her without fearing her father’s disapproval/censure. The king’s laissez-faire attitude, in regards to his daughter’s courtship, suggests his endorsement of the Western romantic tradition. Likewise, his acts of upholding and enforcing the verbal pact between his daughter and the frog are representative of the Western heroic culture.
In Korean version, however, the tension produced as a result of the frog’s absurd desire (who is of the peasant class) to marry a nobleman’s daughter is directly played out between the aristocratic iron-willed father of the bride and the frog itself, demonstrating the class and power structure of Korean culture. For instance, the frog in Korean version asks his mother to go to the neighboring noble to initiate a marriage proposal to one of his daughters. The stanch noble, however, is “furiously angry at such a preposterous suggestion and order[s] his servant to beat the toad’s foster-mother,” manifesting the immense power the noble has over those of the peasant status (Zong 2). Thwarted by the bride’s father, the frog tricks the noble into thinking his home is cursed because he refused the frog’s proposal. Only after believing his house is cursed, the alarmed father asks his youngest daughter to marry the frog. In other words, the bride’s father forestalls the marriage as long as possible until the issue exacerbates beyond his control. Thus, in terms of matrimonial issues, the struggle between the peasant-class frog and the noble father of the bride exposes the un-crossable rigid class system of Korean society, and the enormous power/violence the Korean aristocrats can wield against its lower-class counterparts.
Unlike the Korean Frog Prince, Chinese version subordinates the romance/marriage concerns of the princess and the frog under the political issues. It foregrounds, rather, the political dynamics exchanged between the bride’s father who is a powerful emperor and the frog that has a mysterious militant prowess, implicating the primacy of the political issues above the civilian matters. One day the frog sees “the imperial decree” that promises marriage to the princess for any man “who can drive away the enemy” (Chuang 2). Desiring to marry the princess, the frog single-handedly defeats the enemy. The king, however, while praising the frog’s heroism, about the promise he made regarding “the princess he sa[ys] nothing, for he ha[s] not the slightest intention of letting his daughter marry a frog” (Chuang 3). He reinvents his original decree and re-announces a difficult contest that includes anyone who—irregardless to their military contributions during the invasion—aspires to marry the princess. However, when the frog easily wins the contest again, the emperor once more deflects from the earlier reinvented rule by now restricting the winner to be human beings only: “No beast may do so,” he says (Chuang 3). Here, the king is, in effect, the trickster who tricks the frog; he circumvents, cheats, and defies his own imperial decree. Thus, the political drama played out between the bride’s father (the emperor) and the frog (the warrior) in the Chinese version epitomizes the tumultuous militant milieu of its society.
In addition to the culturally unique demeanor/role the father of the bride plays, the bride’s characteristics portrayed in each of the variants correspond to her distinct socio-cultural construction. In Grimm’s version, for example, the princess’s physicality is overtly stressed as it is a prized value in Western chivalric tradition: she is “so beautiful that [even] the sun itself…[i]s astonished whenever it sh[ows] in her face” (Hunt 1). Her free-engaging dialogue with the frog is also indicative of liberal sociality of the West that is more inducive to women’s free expression than that of its Eastern counterparts. For example, it is she, not her father, who avails herself to the frog. She allows the frog to “be [her] companion…and sleep in [her] little bed,” if the frog will “bring [her the] golden ball” from the well (Hunt 1). Although it is evident that she fears and obeys her father, yet she exhibits strong self-expression in the absence of her father’s presence. For instance, when she is alone with the frog, she not only mocks the frog to “be quiet” and calls him “odious frog,” but also throws the frog “with all her might against the wall” (Hunt 2). Then again, as the frog’s spell is broken by her throwing action and the frog transforms before her very eyes into a handsome prince, she willingly “sleeps” with him until “the sun aw[akes] them,” suggesting premarital intercourse (Hunt 3). Thus, the temperament of the frog’s bride-to-be (the princess) captures in part the self-expressive lady of the chivalric tradition.
In the Asian tales, however, because the availability of the bride is mostly arranged by the parents, especially in noble families, the bride’s individuality is less explored. The bride’s disposition in Korean version (the youngest daughter of the nobleman) is textually delineated as merely being obedient, without expounding on her other qualities. For example, when her father talks to his daughters about how one of his daughters needs to marry the frog, otherwise “the whole family [will be] in a most difficult position,” the narrator simply informs that the youngest daughter obeys the father’s command (Zong 2). At other times, the narrative casts her elder sisters—who “rush…from the room in fury and humiliation”—as foils to her submissive character (Zong 3). Unlike her sisters, she “agree[s] to marry the toad without the slightest hesitation” (Zong 3). While the youngest daughter’s acquiescent nature is textually emphasized, contrary to her German counterpart, however, her physicality (her beauty, for example) is ignored; it is never mentioned. In other words, her filial domestic qualities are textually magnified while her unique individuality is eclipsed by the tense power struggle played out between the two male characters—the frog and her father. Thus, in Korean version, the youngest daughter who is docile and dutiful with few words—spoken only to say, “yes I’ll obey”—is epitomized as an Eastern female virtue.
Likewise, in Chinese version, it would be unfathomable for the princess to promise herself in a marriage on her own, for she is the king’s political pawn to be pledged/rewarded wisely. Textually, the princess of China’s character is the least developed/exposed among the three tales. Like the Korean version, not only her physicality/beauty is never mentioned, but also her inner qualities are abstruse as well, for there is no dialogue between her and the king (or with anyone else, for that matter) to discern her personality. As a result, the reader is clueless as to whether she even has other siblings like that of her Korean counterpart. Thus, out of three tales, she is the most politically commoditized object for both the frog and the king. Comparatively then, the provocative bed scene of the Grimm’s version and the acquiescent filial scene of the Korean version grant more female voice than their Chinese counterpart. Chinese princess is completely devoid of individual will. Textually, her underdeveloped individuality seems to reflect China’s protracted warrior history that invariably would have considered women’s vulnerable physicality at least in couple of ways: (1) as someone who needs to be protected, and thus must be guarded and cannot be exposed; and/or (2) as an object/pawn that can be traded for political ends thus needing no voice nor character development.
Apart from the socio-culturally different brides, the varying intensity of tension exchanged between the bride’s father and the frog in the variants correlates with the type/level of the magical elements staged by the frog. The Grimm’s version, due to the frog’s rather peaceful relation with the bride’s father, contains the least amount of supernatural element. The only enchanting scene conjured up (presumably) by the frog is that of peace and romance after it has transformed into a handsome prince. The morning after the frog and the princess’s sleeping scene, “a carriage came…with eight white horses,” and carries them to the kingdom of the prince’s royal parents (3). Consequently, the fact that there is a minimum level of magical elements present in the Grimm’s version coupled with the fact that there is a lack of conflict between the frog and the bride’s father seems to illustrate the interrelationship between the two.
Unlike the Grimm’s version, the frog in Korean version must deal with the resolute father-in-law-to-be who adamantly rejects the frog’s marriage proposal to his youngest daughter. Therefore, the degree of magic contrived and matched by the frog to level with and gain the consent from the unyielding father-in-law is more consuming than his German counterpart. However, the type of the magic employed by the frog to gain the approval of the bride’s father is more a trickery than real magic, though the recipients believe it is real magic or some type of supernatural phenomena. For example, after being cruelly rejected by the rich nobleman, the frog catches “a hawk and…Late that night he tie[s] a lighted lantern to its foot and cre[eeps] stealthily to the rich man’s house.” Then the frog stages the following trickery spectacle which the nobleman later describes it as a “nocturnal proclamation from the sky” (Zong 3):
He tie[s] a long string to the hawk’s foot and then climb[s] a tall persimmon tree which stood by the house. Then he h[olds] the end of the string in his hand and release[s] the hawk to fly over the house. As it fl[ies] into the air he solemnly declare[s] in a loud voice, ‘the master of this house shall listen to my words, for I have been dispatched by the Heavenly King. To-day you rejected a proposal of marriage, and now you shall be punished for your arrogance. I shall give you one day to reconsider your decision. I advise you to accept the toad’s proposal, for if you do not, you, your brothers, and your children shall be utterly destroyed.’ (Zong 3)
Oblivious to the fact that this is a trick maneuvered by the frog, the nobleman believes that his house is hunted by a supernatural being. Frightfully, he thus hands over his youngest daughter to be wed to the frog. Interestingly, the first night after (not before) the wedding, the frog reveals his true identity to his wife by having her remove his skin, thereby exuding more magical presence than the previous trick scene. Thus, in Korean version, the frog heavily relies on his magical scam to gain a wife who is above his status, illustrating the sheer difficulty of an aspiring social climber who seeks to promote himself in Korean culture.
Among the three variants, the frog in Chinese version exerts the most amount of magical power, not only because he needs to outwit his cunning and powerful father-in-law-to-be (the emperor), but because the issues at hands are of much greater magnitude—a political unrest and war. The Chinese frog is born with supernatural power, and in his vision sees great imminent peril for the country. He volunteers as a soldier who can defend the empire single-handedly. When “the emperor ask[s]..how many men and horses he would need,” the frog says “not a single horse or a single man,” but “a heap of hot, glowing embers.” Then the frog continues to display the following mystical power/bravado with the combustible items he has requested (Chuang 3):
The frog s[i]ts before the fire devouring the flames by the mouthful for three days and three nights. He [eats] till his belly [i]s as big and round as a bladder full of fat. By now the city [i]s in great danger…The emperor [i]s terribly apprehensive, but the frog…calmly [goes] on swallowing fire and flame. Only after the third day had passed d[oes] he go to the top of the city wall and look at the situation. There, ringing the city, [are] thousands of soldiers and horses…As soon as the gate…open[s] the invaders pour[s] in. The frog [i]s above them in the gate tower and, as they pass…underneath, he coolly and calmly sp[its] fire down on them, searing countless men and horses. They [the enemy] fle[e] back in disorder. (Chuang 3).
Just as he had alleged, the frog wins the war without a single horse or man, and “the emperor [i]s overjoyed” (Chuang 3). The emperor, however, violates his own imperial decree by summoning a new contest, whereby only human beings are allowed to win and claim the princess. This time, the frog meets the king’s ploy by outwitting him with magical metamorphosis; he disguises himself as a stalwart man, wins the contest, and marries the princess. Yet after the marriage, he changes back to a frog, which distresses the king gravely. Still, at night before the princess, he secretly transforms back into a handsome man, thus dizzily shifting his magical power back and forth to distraught the king, while pleasing the princess. Hence, if the nature/scale of the frog’s magic varies among the three tales, what remains constant is that it is used to augment its romantic stance—to overcome the bride’s father’s opposition (except for the Grimm’s version).
If the magical elements deployed by the three culturally diverse frogs are distinctive, the different endings of the variants are just as divergent. The ending of the Grimm’s version, for example, introduces an unexpected character called the “Faithful Henry,” the young king’s faithful servant, who “had been [so] unhappy when his master was changed into a frog that he had caused three iron bands to be laid round his heart, lest it should burst with grief and sadness” (Hunt 3). This character conducts the carriage of eight white horses, ushering the prince and princess into the kingdom. The inclusion of the “eleventh-hour character” (the Faithful Henry) in the last scene, who resembles a courteous faithful knight, reinforces both the heroic and romantic Western culture.
In Korean version, the tale’s ending has extraordinary filial strings attached; the son (the frog) loves his parents equally (if not more than) as his bride. The following passage shows that the handsome young man (previously frog) ascending to heaven carrying both his wife and his parents:
The bridegroom stripped off his toad skin and became a man…and waved his hand in the air. Then a white haired old man appeared and he bade him bring one hundred deer. When the deer came he drove them homeward…Then he released all the deer and rose up to Heaven, carrying his bride on his back and his parents on his arms. (Emphasis added, Zong 3).
This spectacle of “strong family bondage” theatrically demonstrates how a good son in Korea never neglects his parents, even when he is yet in a state of honeymoon bliss. What’s amply stressed in this last scene is that not only Korean sons must love their earthly parents, but also physically care for them. Thus, in Korean version, “the virtue of filial son” is the moral of The Frog Prince.
Lastly, the ending of Chinese version is not romantic nor filial, but political; it entails frog’s brilliantly executed coup de tat. Because the frog after winning the marriage with the princess transforms back into a frog, the king is tremendously distressed (He is unaware of the fact that at night, the frog is a handsome husband for the princess). One day, the princess, unable to hold the secret any longer, reveals it to her father. Upon this revelation, the king begs the frog not to wear the frog skin during the day, as well. The frog cunningly rejects the appeal by saying that the frog skin helps him maintain his youth and live for thousands of years. The king, who, too, wants to live for thousands of years, demands the frog: “Let me try it on!” (Chuang 5). “‘Yes, Sire,’ replies the frog and ma[kes] haste to discard his skin. The emperor smile[s] gleefully. [as] He t[akes] off his dragon-embroidered robe and put[s] on the frog-skin. But then he could not take it off again! [Meanwhile,] the frog put[s] on the imperial robe and bec[omes] the emperor. His father-in-law remain[s] a frog forever” (Chuang 6). Thus, the denouement of the Chinese tale shows that the politically strategic and persevering frog ousts the deceptive emperor, and he, himself becomes the next emperor of China.
Of this bamboozling ending of Chinese Frog Prince, Kun Mchog Dge Legs, who has surveyed Chinese fairytale characters, sheds light onto why this frog prince, who is politically driven, “at times act[s]..as [a] trickster” (Legs 6). Legs’s report lists extensive examples of Tibetan fairytale heroes who are political tricksters/rebels (probably due to Tibetan’s precarious political stance it occupies in China) (Legs 6). Among the Tibetan fairytale heroes, for example, Nyi, not only struggles for equality, but regularly tricks the king: “in the story of ‘The king Imitates a Dog and Barks,’ Nyi…tricks the king into barking like a dog and, in ‘White Excrement from the Sky,’ he tricks the king into eating his excrement’ (Kun 58). By understanding that the trickster heroes are a common component of Chinese fairytales due to its sociopolitical milieu, one can better grasp the implicit meanings embedded in the Chinese tales.
As the cultural analysis of the three variants of The Frog Prince has thus shown, it is by examining the differences unique to each culture, rather than what is similar, that most powerfully inspires and enlarges multicultural sensibility in the reader. If the Grimm’s version embodies the values of the Western chivalric culture, the Korean version reveals its social structure and values of the East, such as class and filiality. By the same token, understanding the historical subtexts of Chinese fairytales such as The Frog Prince, one can extract hidden meanings behind the story—China’s politically discordant milieu that engenders revels, satirists, or tricksters. Thus, by reading fairytales with geo-political perspective, one not only broadens his/her cultural views, but can experience an increase of multicultural tolerance and acceptance at heart.
Works Cited
Carlyon, David. “The Trickster as Academic Comfort Food.” Journal of American & Comparative Cultures. 25 (2002):14-18.
Chuang. “The Frog Who Became an Emperor.” Folk Tales From China. Peking: Foregin Languages Press, 1958
Hunt, Margaret. The Frog Prince. Brothers Grimm
Legs, Shis, and Stuart, Kevin. “Tibetan Tricksters.” Asian Folklore Studies. 58 (1999): 5-30.
Ondoru, Yawa. “The Toad-Bridegroom.” Folk Tales From Korea. Zong Bog-Sun. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1952
Weber, Eugen. “Fairies and Hard Facts: The Reality of Folktales.” Journal of the History of Ideas. 42 (1981): 93-113.
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