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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Art of Story-Telling, by Marie L. Shedlock
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-Title: The Art of Story-Telling
-
-Author: Marie L. Shedlock
-
-Commentator: Professor John Adams
-
-Release Date: February 8, 2020 [EBook #61340]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ART OF STORY-TELLING ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by MFR, Eleni Christofaki and the Online
-Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
-file was produced from images generously made available
-by The Internet Archive)
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-Transcriber's Note.
-
-A list of the changes made can be found at the end of the book.
-Formatting and special characters are indicated as follows:
-
- _italic_
- =bold=
-
-
-
-
-THE ART OF STORY-TELLING
-
-
-
-
- THE ART
- OF STORY-TELLING
-
- BY MARIE L. SHEDLOCK
-
- WITH A PREFACE BY
- PROFESSOR JOHN ADAMS
- CHAIR OF EDUCATION, UNIVERSITY OF LONDON
-
- LONDON
- JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.
- 1915
-
-
-
-
-ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS.
-
-
- PAGE
-
- PREFACE vii
-
- INTRODUCTION 1
-
- Chapter I. THE DIFFICULTIES OF STORY-TELLING CONNECTED WITH LIBRARIES
- AND CLUBS 6
-
- ” II. THE ESSENTIALS OF STORY-TELLING 25
-
- ” III. THE ARTIFICES OF STORY-TELLING 32
-
- ” IV. ELEMENTS TO AVOID 42
-
- ” V. ELEMENTS TO SEEK 61
-
- ” VI. HOW TO OBTAIN AND MAINTAIN THE EFFECT 89
-
- ” VII. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 117
-
- ” VIII. LIST OF STORIES TOLD IN FULL 138
-
- LIST OF TITLES OF INDIVIDUAL STORIES AND OF COLLECTIONS OF STORIES 210
-
- INDEX 235
-
-
-
-
-PREFACE.
-
-By PROFESSOR JOHN ADAMS,
-
-_Chair of Education, University of London_.
-
-
-THOSE who do not love schoolmasters tell us that the man who can do
-something supremely well contents himself with doing it, while the man
-who cannot do it very well must needs set about showing other people
-how it should be done. The masters in any craft are prone to magnify
-their gifts by maintaining that the poet--or the stove-pipe maker--is
-born, not made. Teachers will accordingly be gratified to find in the
-following pages the work of a lady who is at the same time a brilliant
-executant and an admirable expositor. Miss Shedlock stands in the very
-first rank of story-tellers. No one can claim with greater justice that
-the gift of Scheherazade is hers by birthright. Yet she has recognised
-that even the highest natural gifts may be well or ill manipulated:
-that in short the poet, not to speak of the stove-pipe maker, must take
-a little more trouble than to be merely born.
-
-It is well when the master of a craft begins to take thought and to
-discover what underlies his method. It does not, of course, happen
-that every master is able to analyse the processes that secure him
-success in his art. For after all the expositor has to be born as well
-as the executant; and it is perhaps one of the main causes of the
-popularity of the born-not-made theory that so few people are born both
-good artists and good expositors. Miss Shedlock has had this rare
-good fortune, as all those who have both read her book and heard her
-exemplify her principles on the platform will readily admit.
-
-Let no one who lacks the gift of story-telling hope that the following
-pages will confer it. Like Comenius and like the schoolmaster in
-Shakespeare, Miss Shedlock is entitled to claim a certain capacity or
-ingenuity in her pupils, before she can promise effective help. But
-on the other hand let no successful story-teller form the impression
-that he has nothing to learn from the exposition here given. The best
-craftsmen are those who are not only most able but most willing to
-learn from a fellow master. The most inexperienced story-teller who has
-the love of the art in his soul will gather a full harvest from Miss
-Shedlock's teaching, while the most experienced and skilful will not go
-empty away.
-
-The reader will discover that the authoress is first and last an
-artist. “Dramatic joy” is put in the forefront when she is enumerating
-the aims of the story-teller. But her innate gifts as a teacher will
-not be suppressed. She objects to “didactic emphasis” and yet cannot
-say too much in favour of the moral effect that may be produced by the
-use of the story. She raises here the whole problem of direct _versus_
-indirect moral instruction, and decides in no uncertain sound in
-favour of the indirect form. There is a great deal to be said on the
-other side, but this is not the place to say it. On the wide question
-Miss Shedlock has on her side the great body of public opinion among
-professional teachers. The orthodox master proclaims that he is, of
-course, a moral instructor, but adds that in the schoolroom the less
-_said_ about the matter the better. Like the authoress, the orthodox
-teacher has much greater faith in example than in precept: so much
-faith indeed that in many schools precept does not get the place it
-deserves. But in the matter of story-telling the artistic element
-introduces something that is not necessarily involved in ordinary
-school work. For better or for worse modern opinion is against the
-explicitly stated lesson to be drawn from any tale that is told. Most
-people agree with Mark Twain's condemnation of “the moral that wags its
-crippled tail at the end of most school-girls' essays.”
-
-The justification of the old-fashioned “moral” was not artistic but
-didactic. It embodied the determination of the story-teller to see
-that his pupils got the full benefit of the lesson involved. If the
-moral is to be cut out, the story-teller must be sure that the lesson
-is so clearly conveyed in the text that any further elaboration would
-be felt as an impertinent addition. Whately assures us that men
-prefer metaphors to similes because in the simile the point is baldly
-stated, whereas in the metaphor the reader or hearer has to be his own
-interpreter. All education is in the last resort self-education, and
-Miss Shedlock sees to it that her stories compel her hearers to make
-the application she desires.
-
-In two other points modern opinion is prepared to give our authoress
-rein where our forefathers would have been inclined to restrain
-her. The sense of humour has come to its proper place in our
-schoolrooms--pupils' humour, be it understood, for there always was
-scope enough claimed for the humour of the teacher. So with the
-imagination. The time is past when this “mode of being conscious” was
-looked at askance in school. Parents and teachers no longer speak
-contemptuously about “the busy faculty,” and quote Genesis in its
-condemnation.
-
-Miss Shedlock has been well advised to keep to her legitimate subject
-instead of wandering afield in a Teutonic excursion into the realms of
-folk-lore. What parents and teachers want is the story as here and now
-existing and an account of how best to manipulate it. This want the
-book now before us admirably meets.
-
- JOHN ADAMS.
-
-
-
-
-INTRODUCTION.
-
-
-STORY-TELLING is almost the oldest Art in the world--the first
-conscious form of literary communication. In the East it still
-survives, and it is not an uncommon thing to see a crowd at a
-street-corner held by the simple narration of a story. There are signs
-in the West of a growing interest in this ancient art, and we may yet
-live to see the renaissance of the troubadours and the minstrels whose
-appeal will then rival that of the mob orator or itinerant politician.
-One of the surest signs of a belief in the educational power of the
-story is its introduction into the curriculum of the Training-College
-and the classes of the Elementary and Secondary Schools. It is just at
-the time when the imagination is most keen--the mind being unhampered
-by accumulation of facts--that stories appeal most vividly and are
-retained for all time.
-
-It is to be hoped that some day stories will only be told to school
-groups by experts who have devoted special time and preparation
-to the art of telling them. It is a great fallacy to suppose that
-the systematic study of story-telling destroys the spontaneity of
-narrative. After a long experience, I find the exact converse to be
-true, namely, that it is only when one has overcome the mechanical
-difficulties that one can “let oneself go” in the dramatic interest of
-the story.
-
-By the expert story-teller I do not mean the professional elocutionist.
-The name--wrongly enough--has become associated in the mind of the
-public with persons who beat their breast, tear their hair, and
-declaim blood-curdling episodes. A decade or more ago, the drawing-room
-reciter was of this type, and was rapidly becoming the bugbear of
-social gatherings. The difference between the stilted reciter and
-the simple story-teller is perhaps best illustrated by an episode in
-Hans C. Andersen's immortal story of the Nightingale.[1] The real
-Nightingale and the artificial Nightingale have been bidden by the
-Emperor to unite their forces and to sing a duet at a Court function.
-The duet turns out most disastrously, and whilst the artificial
-Nightingale is singing his one solo for the thirty-third time, the
-real Nightingale flies out of the window back to the green wood--a
-true artist, instinctively choosing his right atmosphere. But the
-bandmaster--symbol of the pompous pedagogue--in trying to soothe
-the outraged feelings of the courtiers, says, “Because, you see,
-Ladies and Gentlemen, and, above all, Your Imperial Majesty, with the
-real nightingale you never can tell what you will hear, but in the
-artificial nightingale everything is decided beforehand. So it is, and
-so it must remain. It cannot be otherwise.”
-
-And as in the case of the two nightingales, so it is with the stilted
-reciter and the simple narrator: one is busy displaying the machinery,
-showing “how the tunes go”--the other is anxious to conceal the art.
-Simplicity should be the keynote of story-telling, but (and here the
-comparison with the Nightingale breaks down) it is a simplicity which
-comes after much training in self-control, and much hard work in
-overcoming the difficulties which beset the presentation.
-
-I do not mean that there are not born story-tellers who _could_ hold
-an audience without preparation, but they are so rare in number that
-we can afford to neglect them in our general consideration; for this
-work is dedicated to the average story-tellers anxious to make the
-best use of their dramatic ability, and it is to them that I present
-my plea for special study and preparation before telling a story to a
-group of children--that is, if they wish for the far-reaching effects
-I shall speak of later on. Only the preparation must be of a much less
-stereotyped nature than that by which the ordinary reciters are trained
-for their career.
-
-Some years ago, when I was in the States, I was asked to put into
-the form of lectures my views upon the educational value of telling
-stories. A sudden inspiration seized me. I began to cherish a dream of
-long hours to be spent in the British Museum, the Congressional Library
-in Washington and the Public Library at Boston--and this is the only
-portion of the dream which has been realized. I planned an elaborate
-scheme of research work which was to result in a magnificent (if musty)
-philological treatise. I thought of trying to discover by long and
-patient researches what species of lullaby were crooned by Egyptian
-mothers to their babes, and what were the elementary dramatic poems in
-vogue among Assyrian nursemaids which were the prototypes of “Little
-Jack Horner,” “Dickory, Dickory Dock,” and other nursery classics. I
-intended to follow up the study of these ancient documents by making
-an appendix of modern variants, showing what progress we had made--if
-any--among modern nations.
-
-But there came to me suddenly one day the remembrance of a scene from
-Racine's “Plaideurs” in which the counsel for the defence, eager to
-show how fundamental is his knowledge, begins his speech:--
-
-“Before the Creation of the World”--And the Judge (with a touch of
-weariness tempered by humour) suggests:--
-
-“Let us pass on to the Deluge.”
-
-And thus I, too, have “passed on to the Deluge.” I have abandoned an
-account of the origin and past of stories which at the best would
-only have displayed a little recently-acquired book-knowledge. When
-I thought of the number of scholars who could treat this part of the
-question so infinitely better than myself, I realized how much wiser
-it would be--though the task is much more humdrum--to deal with the
-present possibilities of story-telling for our generation of parents
-and teachers, and, leaving out the folk-lore side, devote myself to the
-story itself.
-
-My objects in urging the use of stories in the education of children
-are at least five-fold:
-
-_First_, to give them dramatic joy, for which they have a natural
-craving. _Secondly_, to develop a sense of humour, which is really
-a sense of proportion. _Thirdly_, to correct certain tendencies by
-showing the consequences in the career of the hero in the story. (Of
-this motive the children must be quite unconscious, and there must be
-no didactic emphasis.) _Fourthly_, by means of example, not precept,
-to present such ideals as will sooner or later (I care not which) be
-translated into action. _Fifthly_, to develop the imagination, which
-really takes in all the other points.
-
-So much for the purely educational side of the book. But the art of
-story-telling, quite apart from the subject, appeals not only to the
-educational world or to parents as parents, but also to a wider outside
-public, who may be interested in the purely human point of view.
-
-In great contrast to the lofty scheme I had originally proposed to
-myself, I now simply place before all those who are interested in
-the Art of Story-telling in any form the practical experience I have
-had in my travels across the United States and through England; and,
-because I am confining myself to personal experience which must of
-necessity be limited, I am very anxious not to appear dogmatic or to
-give the impression that I wish to lay down the law on the subject. But
-I hope my readers may profit by my errors, improve on my methods, and
-thus help to bring about the revival of an almost lost art--one which
-appeals more directly and more stirringly than any other method to the
-majority of listeners.
-
-In Sir Philip Sidney's “Defence of Poesy” we find these words:
-
- “Forsooth he cometh to you with a tale, which holdeth children from
- play, and old men from the chimney-corner, and pretending no more,
- doth intend the winning of the mind from wickedness to virtue even
- as the child is often brought to take most wholesome things by
- hiding them in such other as have a pleasant taste.”
-
- MARIE L. SHEDLOCK.
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[1] See p. 138.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER I.
-
-THE DIFFICULTIES OF THE STORY.
-
-
-I PROPOSE to deal in this chapter with the difficulties or dangers
-which beset the path of the Story-teller, because, until we have
-overcome these, we cannot hope for the finished and artistic
-presentation which is to bring out the full value of the story.
-
-The difficulties are many, and yet they ought not to discourage the
-would-be narrators, but only show them how all-important is the
-preparation for the story, if it is to have the desired effect.
-
-I propose to illustrate by concrete examples, thereby hoping to achieve
-a two-fold result: one to fix the subject more clearly in the mind
-of the student--the other to use the Art of Story-telling to explain
-itself.
-
-I have chosen one or two instances from my own personal experience. The
-grave mistakes made in my own case may serve as a warning to others,
-who will find, however, that experience is the best teacher. For
-positive work, in the long run, we generally find out our own method.
-On the negative side, however, it is useful to have certain pitfalls
-pointed out to us, in order that we may save time by avoiding them: it
-is for this reason that I sound a note of warning. These are:--
-
-I.--_The danger of side issues._ An inexperienced story-teller is
-exposed to the temptation of breaking off from the main dramatic
-interest in a short exciting story, in order to introduce a side issue,
-which is often interesting and helpful, but should be reserved for a
-longer and less dramatic story. If the interest turns on some dramatic
-moment, the action must be quick and uninterrupted, or it will lose
-half its effect.
-
-I had been telling a class of young children the story of Polyphemus
-and Ulysses, and, just at the most dramatic moment in it, some impulse
-prompted me to go off on a side issue to describe the personal
-appearance of Ulysses.
-
-The children were visibly bored, but with polite indifference they
-listened to my elaborate description of the hero. If I had given them
-an actual description from Homer, I believe that the strength of
-the language would have appealed to their imagination (all the more
-strongly because they might not have understood the individual words)
-and have lessened their disappointment at the dramatic issue being
-postponed; but I trusted to my own lame verbal efforts, and signally
-failed. Attention flagged, fidgeting began, the atmosphere was rapidly
-becoming spoiled, in spite of the patience and toleration still shown
-by the children. At last, however, one little girl in the front row, as
-spokeswoman for the class, suddenly said: “If you please, before you go
-any further, do you mind telling us whether, after all, that Poly ...
-(slight pause) that (final attempt) _Polyanthus_ died?”
-
-Now, the remembrance of this question has been of extreme use to me in
-my career as a story-teller. I have realized that in a short dramatic
-story the mind of the listeners must be set at ease with regard to the
-ultimate fate of the special “Polyanthus” who takes the centre of the
-stage.
-
-I remember too the despair of a little boy at a dramatic representation
-of “Little Red Riding-Hood,” when that little person delayed the
-thrilling catastrophe with the Wolf, by singing a pleasant song on her
-way through the wood. “Oh, why,” said the little boy, “does she not
-get on?” And I quite shared his impatience.
-
-This warning is only necessary in connection with the short dramatic
-narrative. There are occasions when we can well afford to offer short
-descriptions for the sake of literary style, and for the purpose of
-enlarging the vocabulary of the child. I have found, however, in these
-cases, it is well to take the children into your confidence--warning
-them that they are to expect nothing particularly exciting in the way
-of dramatic event: they will then settle down with a freer mind (though
-the mood may include a touch of resignation) to the description you are
-about to offer them.[2]
-
-II.--_The danger of altering the story to suit special occasions._
-This is done sometimes from extreme conscientiousness, sometimes from
-sheer ignorance of the ways of children; it is the desire to protect
-them from knowledge which they already possess and with which they
-(equally conscientious) are apt to “turn and rend” the narrator. I
-remember once when I was telling the story of the siege of Troy to
-very young children, I suddenly felt anxious lest there should be
-anything in the story of the Rape of Helen not altogether suitable for
-the average age of the class--namely, nine years. I threw therefore, a
-domestic colouring over the whole subject, and presented an imaginary
-conversation between Paris and Helen, in which Paris tried to persuade
-Helen that she was a strong-minded woman, thrown away on a limited
-society in Sparta, and that she should come away and visit some of
-the institutions of the world with him, which would doubtless prove
-a mutually instructive journey.[3] I then gave the children the view
-taken by Herodotus that Helen never went to Troy, but was detained in
-Egypt. The children were much thrilled by the story, and responded most
-eagerly when, in my inexperience, I invited them to reproduce for the
-next day the tale I had just told them.
-
-A small child in the class presented me, as you will see, with the
-ethical problem from which I had so laboriously protected _her_. The
-essay ran:
-
- “Once upon a time the King of Troy's son was called Paris. And he
- went over to _Greace_ to see what it was like. And here he saw the
- beautiful Helen_er_, and likewise her husband Menela_yus_. And
- one day, Menelayus went out hunting, and left Paris and Helener
- alone, and Paris said: ‘Do you not feel _dul_ in this _palis_?’ And
- Helener said: ‘I feel very dull in this _pallice_,[4] and Paris
- said: 'Come away and see the world with me.’ So they _sliped_ off
- together, and they came to the King of Egypt, and _he_ said: ‘Who
- _is_ the young lady?’ So Paris told him. ‘But,’ said the King, ‘it
- is not _propper_ for you to go off with other people's _wifes_. So
- _Helener_ shall stop here.’ Paris stamped his foot. When Menelayus
- got home, _he_ stamped his foot. And he called round him all his
- soldiers, and they stood round Troy for eleven years. At last they
- thought it was no use _standing_ any longer, so they built a wooden
- horse in memory of Helener and the Trojans and it was taken into
- the town.”
-
-Now the mistake I made in my presentation was to lay particular stress
-on the reason for elopement by my careful readjustment, which really
-called more attention to the episode than was necessary for the age of
-my audience; and evidently caused confusion in the minds of some of the
-children who knew the story in its more accurate original form.
-
-Whilst travelling in the States, I was provided with a delightful
-appendix to this story. I had been telling Miss Longfellow and her
-sister the little girl's version of the Siege of Troy, and Mrs. Thorpe
-made the following comment, with the American humour whose dryness adds
-so much to its value:
-
-“I never realised before,” she said, “how glad the Greeks must have
-been to sit down even inside a horse, when they had been _standing_ for
-eleven years.”
-
-III.--_The danger of introducing unfamiliar words._ This is the very
-opposite danger of the one to which I have just alluded; it is the
-taking for granted that children are acquainted with the meaning of
-certain words upon which turns some important point in the story. We
-must not introduce (without at least a passing explanation) words
-which, if not rightly understood, would entirely alter the picture we
-wish to present.
-
-I had once promised to tell stories to an audience of Irish peasants,
-and I should like to state here that, though my travels have brought
-me into touch with almost every kind of audience, I have never found
-one where the atmosphere is so “self-prepared” as in that of a group
-of Irish peasants. To speak to them (especially on the subject of
-Fairy-tales) is like playing on a delicate harp: the response is so
-quick and the sympathy is so keen. Of course the subject of Fairy-tales
-is one which is completely familiar to them and comes into their
-every-day life. They have a feeling of awe with regard to fairies,
-which in some parts of Ireland is very deep.[5]
-
-On this particular occasion I had been warned by an artist friend
-who had kindly promised to sing songs between the stories, that my
-audience would be of varying age and almost entirely illiterate. Many
-of the older men and women, who could neither read nor write, had
-never been beyond their native village. I was warned to be very simple
-in my language and to explain any difficult words which might occur
-in the particular Indian story I had chosen for that night, namely,
-“The Tiger, The Jackal and the Brahman.”[6] It happened that the older
-portion of the audience had scarcely ever seen even the picture of wild
-animals. I profited by the advice, and offered a word of explanation
-with regard to the Tiger and the Jackal. I also explained the meaning
-of the word Brahman--at a proper distance, however, lest the audience
-should class him with wild animals. I then went on with my story, in
-the course of which I mentioned the Buffalo. In spite of the warning
-I had received, I found it impossible not to believe that the name of
-this animal would be familiar to any audience. I therefore went on with
-the sentence containing this word, and ended it thus: “And then the
-Brahman went a little further and met an old Buffalo turning a wheel.”
-
-The next day, whilst walking down the village street, I entered into
-conversation with a thirteen-year-old girl who had been in my audience
-the night before, and who began at once to repeat in her own words the
-Indian story in question. When she came to the particular sentence I
-have just quoted, I was greatly startled to hear _her_ version, which
-ran thus: “And the priest went on a little further, and he met another
-old gentleman pushing a wheelbarrow.” I stopped her at once, and not
-being able to identify the sentence as part of the story I had told, I
-questioned her a little more closely. I found that the word Buffalo had
-evidently conveyed to her mind an old “_buffer_” whose name was “Lo”
-(probably taken to be an Indian form of appellation, to be treated with
-tolerance though it might not be Irish in sound). Then, not knowing of
-any wheel more familiarly than that attached to a barrow, the young
-narrator completed the picture in her own mind--which, doubtless, was a
-vivid one--but one must admit that it had lost something of the Indian
-atmosphere which I had intended to gather about it.
-
-IV.--_The danger of claiming the co-operation of the class by means of
-questions._ The danger in this case is more serious for the teacher
-than the child, who rather enjoys the process and displays a fatal
-readiness to give any sort of answer if only he can play a part in the
-conversation. If we could depend on the children giving the kind of
-answer we expect, all might go well, and the danger would be lessened;
-but children have a perpetual way of frustrating our hopes in this
-direction, and of landing us in unexpected bypaths from which it is not
-always easy to return to the main road without a very violent reaction.
-As illustrative of this, I quote from “The Madness of Philip,” by
-Josephine Dodge Daskam Bacon, a truly delightful essay on Child
-Psychology, in the guise of the lightest of stories.
-
-The scene takes place in a Kindergarten--where a bold and fearless
-visitor has undertaken to tell a story on the spur of the moment to a
-group of restless children.
-
-She opens thus: “Yesterday, children, as I came out of my yard, what do
-you think I saw?”
-
-The elaborately concealed surprise in store was so obvious that
-Marantha rose to the occasion and suggested “an el'phunt.”
-
-“Why, no. Why should I see an elephant in my yard? It was not _nearly_
-so big as that--it was a little thing.”
-
-“A fish,” ventured Eddy Brown, whose eye fell upon the aquarium in the
-corner. The raconteuse smiled patiently.
-
-“Now, how could a fish, a live fish, get into my front yard?”
-
-“A dead fish,” says Eddy. He had never been known to relinquish
-voluntarily an idea.
-
-“No; it was a little kitten,” said the story-teller decidedly. “A
-little white kitten. She was standing right near a big puddle of water.
-Now, what else do you think I saw?”
-
-“Another kitten,” suggests Marantha, conservatively.
-
-“No; it was a big Newfoundland dog. He saw the little kitten near the
-water. Now, cats don't like water, do they? What do they like?”
-
-“Mice,” said Joseph Zukoffsky abruptly.
-
-“Well, yes, they do; but there were no mice in my yard. I'm sure you
-know what I mean. If they don't like _water_, _what_ do they like?”
-
-“Milk,” cried Sarah Fuller confidently.
-
-“They like a dry place,” said Mrs. R. B. Smith. “Now, what do you
-suppose the dog did?”
-
-It may be that successive failures had disheartened the listeners. It
-may be that the very range of choice presented to them and the dog
-alike dazzled their imagination. At all events, they made no answer.
-
-“Nobody knows what the dog did?” repeated the story-teller
-encouragingly. “What would you do if you saw a little kitten like that?”
-
-And Philip remarked gloomily:
-
-“I'd pull its tail.”
-
-“And what do the rest of you think? I hope you are not as cruel as that
-little boy.”
-
-A jealous desire to share Philip's success prompted the quick response:
-
-“I'd pull it too.”
-
-Now, the reason of the total failure of this story was the inability
-to draw any real response from the children, partly because of the
-hopeless vagueness of the questions, partly because, there being no
-time for reflection, the children said the first thing that comes into
-their head without any reference to their real thoughts on the subject.
-
-I cannot imagine anything less like the enlightened methods of the best
-Kindergarten teaching. Had Mrs. R. B. Smith been a real, and not a
-fictional, person, it would certainly have been her last appearance as
-a _raconteuse_ in this educational institution.
-
-V.--_The difficulty of gauging the effect of a story upon the
-audience._ This rises from lack of observation and experience; it
-is the want of these qualities which leads to the adoption of such
-a method as I have just presented. We learn in time that want of
-expression on the faces of the audience and want of any kind of
-external response does not always mean either lack of interest or
-attention. There is often real interest deep down, but no power, or
-perhaps no wish, to display that interest, which is deliberately
-concealed at times so as to protect oneself from questions which may be
-put.
-
-I was speaking on one occasion in Davenport in the State of Iowa. I had
-been engaged to deliver a lecture to adults on the “Fun and Philosophy”
-of Hans C. Andersen's Fairy Tales. When I arrived at the Hall, I was
-surprised and somewhat annoyed to find four small boys sitting in
-the front row. They seemed to be about ten years old, and, knowing
-pretty well from experience what boys of that age usually like, I felt
-rather anxious as to what would happen, and I must confess that for
-once I wished children had the useful faculty, developed in adults,
-of successfully concealing their feelings. Any hopes I had conceived
-on this point were speedily shattered. After listening to the first
-few sentences, two of the boys evidently recognised the futility of
-bestowing any further attention on the subject, and consoled themselves
-for the dulness of the occasion by starting a “scrap.” I watched this
-proceeding for a minute with great interest, but soon recalled the
-fact that I had not been engaged in the capacity of spectator, so,
-addressing the antagonists in as severe a manner as I could assume, I
-said: “Boys, I shall have to ask you to go to the back of the hall.”
-They responded with much alacrity, and evident gratitude, and even
-exceeded my instructions by leaving the hall altogether.
-
-My sympathy was now transferred to the two remaining boys, who sat
-motionless, and one of them never took his eyes off me during the whole
-lecture. I feared lest they might be simply cowed by the treatment
-meted out to their companions, whose joy in their release had been
-somewhat tempered by the disgrace of ejection. I felt sorry that I
-could not provide these model boys with a less ignominious retreat,
-and I cast about in my mind how I could make it up to them. At the end
-of the lecture, I addressed them personally and, congratulating them
-on their quiet behaviour, said that, as I feared the main part of the
-lecture could scarcely have interested them, I should conclude, not
-with the story I had intended for the adults, but with a special story
-for them, as a reward for their good behaviour. I then told Hans C.
-Andersen's “Jack the Dullard,” which I have always found to be a great
-favourite with boys. These particular youths smiled very faintly, and
-left any expression of enthusiasm to the adult portion of the audience.
-My hostess, who was eager to know what the boys thought, enquired of
-them how they liked the lecture. The elder one said guardedly: “I liked
-it very well, but I was _piqued_ at her underrating my appreciation of
-Hans Andersen.”
-
-I was struck with the entirely erroneous impression I had received of
-the effect I was producing upon the boys. I was thankful at least that
-a passing allusion to Schopenhauer in my lecture possibly provided some
-interest for this “young old” child.
-
-I felt somewhat in the position of a Doctor of Divinity in Canada to
-whom a small child confided the fact that she had written a parody on
-“The Three Fishers,” but that it had dropped into the fire. The Doctor
-made some facetious rejoinder about the impertinence of the flames in
-consuming her manuscript. The child reproved him in these grave words:
-“Nature, you know, _is_ Nature, and her laws are inviolable.”
-
-VI.--_The danger of over illustration._ After long experience, and
-after considering the effect produced on children when pictures are
-shown to them during the narration, I have come to the conclusion
-that the appeal to the eye and the ear at the same time is of
-doubtful value, and has, generally speaking, a distracting effect;
-the concentration on one channel of communication attracts and holds
-the attention more completely. I was confirmed in this theory when I
-addressed an audience of blind people for the first time, and noticed
-how closely they attended, and how much easier it seemed to them,
-because they were so completely “undistracted by the sights around
-them.”[7]
-
-I have often suggested to young teachers two experiments in support
-of this theory. They are not practical experiments, nor could they
-be repeated often with the same audience, but they are intensely
-interesting and they serve to show the _actual_ effect of appealing to
-one sense at a time. The first of these experiments is to take a small
-group of children and suggest that they should close their eyes whilst
-you tell them a story. You will then notice how much more attention
-is given to the intonation and inflection of the voice. The reason
-is obvious: because there is nothing to distract the attention, it
-is concentrated on the only thing offered to the listeners (that is,
-sound), to enable them to seize the dramatic interest of the story.
-
-We find an example of the dramatic power of the voice in its appeal
-to the imagination, in one of the tributes brought by an old pupil to
-Thomas Edward Brown (Master at Clifton College):
-
- “My earliest recollection is that his was the most vivid teaching I
- ever received: great width of view and poetical, almost passionate,
- power of presentment. We were reading Froude's History, and I shall
- never forget how it was Brown's words, Brown's voice, not the
- historian's, that made me feel the great democratic function which
- the monasteries performed in England: the view became alive in his
- mouth.”
-
-And in another passage:
-
- “All set forth with such dramatic force and aided by such a
- splendid voice, left an indelible impression on my mind.” (_Letters
- of T. E. Brown_, p. 55.)
-
-A second experiment, and a much more subtle and difficult one, is to
-take the same group of children on another occasion, telling them a
-story in pantomime form, giving them first the briefest outline of
-it. In this case this must be of the simplest construction, until
-the children are able (if you continue the experiment) to look for
-something more subtle.
-
-I have never forgotten the marvellous performance of a play given
-in London, many years ago, entirely in pantomime form. The play was
-called _L'Enfant Prodigue_, and was presented by a company of French
-artists. It would be almost impossible to exaggerate the strength of
-that “silent appeal” to the public. One was so unaccustomed to reading
-meaning and development of character into gesture and facial expression
-that it was really a revelation to most present--certainly to all
-Anglo-Saxons.
-
-I cannot touch on this subject without admitting the enormous dramatic
-value connected with the kinematograph. Though it can never take
-the place of an actual performance, whether in story form or on
-the stage, it has a real educational value in its possibilities of
-representation which it is difficult to over-estimate, and I believe
-that its introduction into the school curriculum, under the strictest
-supervision, will be of extraordinary benefit. The movement, in its
-present chaotic condition, and in the hands of a commercial management,
-is more likely to stifle than to awaken or stimulate the imagination,
-but the educational world is fully alive to the danger, and I am
-convinced that in the future of the movement good will predominate.
-
-The real value of the cinematograph in connection with stories is that
-it provides the background that is wanting to the inner vision of the
-average child, and does not prevent its imagination from filling in
-the details later. For instance, it would be quite impossible for the
-average child to get an idea from mere word-painting of the atmosphere
-of the Polar regions, as represented lately on the film in connection
-with Captain Scott's expedition; but any stories told later on about
-these regions would have an infinitely greater interest.
-
-There is, however, a real danger in using pictures to illustrate the
-story--especially if it be one which contains a direct appeal to the
-imagination of the child (as quite distinct from the stories which deal
-with facts)--which is that you force the whole audience of children
-to see the same picture, instead of giving each individual child the
-chance of making his own mental picture, which is of far greater joy,
-and of much greater educational value, since by this process the child
-co-operates with you instead of having all the work done for it.
-
-Queyrat, in his work on “La Logique chez l'Enfant” quotes Madame
-Necker de Saussure:[8] “To children and animals actual objects present
-themselves, not the terms of their manifestations. For them thinking
-is seeing over again, it is going through the sensations that the real
-object would have produced. Everything which goes on within them is
-in the form of pictures, or rather, inanimate scenes in which Life is
-partially reproduced.... Since the child has, as yet, no capacity for
-abstraction, he finds a stimulating power in words and a suggestive
-inspiration which holds him enchanted. They awaken vividly-coloured
-images, pictures far more brilliant than would be called into being by
-the objects themselves.”
-
-Surely, if this be true, we are taking from children that rare power of
-mental visualisation by offering to their outward vision an _actual_
-picture.
-
-I was struck with the following note by a critic of the “Outlook,”
-referring to a Japanese play but bearing directly on the subject in
-hand.
-
-“First, we should be inclined to put insistence upon appeal by
-_imagination_. Nothing is built up by lath and canvas; everything has
-to be created by the poet's speech.”
-
-He alludes to the decoration of one of the scenes, which consists
-of three pines, showing what can be conjured up in the mind of the
-spectator.
-
- Ah, yes. Unfolding now before my eyes
- The views I know: the Forest, River, Sea
- And Mist--the scenes of Ono now expand.
-
-I have often heard objections raised to this theory by teachers dealing
-with children whose knowledge of objects outside their own little
-limited circle is so scanty that words we use without a suspicion that
-they are unfamiliar are really foreign expressions to them. Such words
-as sea, woods, fields, mountains would mean nothing to them, unless
-some explanation were offered. To these objections I have replied that
-where we are dealing with objects that can actually be seen with the
-bodily eyes, then it is quite legitimate to show pictures of those
-objects before you begin the story, so that the distraction between the
-actual and mental presentation may not cause confusion; but, as the
-foregoing example shows, we should endeavour to accustom the children
-to seeing much more than the mere objects themselves, and in dealing
-with abstract qualities we must rely solely on the power and choice of
-words and dramatic qualities of presentation, nor need we feel anxious
-if the response is not immediate, or even if it is not quick and
-eager.[9]
-
-VII.--_The danger of obscuring the point of the story with too many
-details._ This is not peculiar to teachers, nor is it only shown in
-the narrative form. I have often heard really brilliant after-dinner
-stories marred by this defect. One remembers the attempt made by Sancho
-Panza to tell a story to Don Quixote, and I have always felt a keen
-sympathy with the latter in his impatience over the recital.
-
- “‘In a village of Estramadura there was a shepherd--no, I mean
- a goatherd--which shepherd--or goatherd--as my story says, was
- called Lope Ruiz--and this Lope Ruiz was in love with a shepherdess
- called Torralva, who was daughter to a rich herdsman, and this rich
- herdsman----’
-
- ‘If this be thy story, Sancho,’ said Don Quixote, ‘thou wilt not
- have done these two days. Tell it concisely like a man of sense, or
- else say no more.’
-
- ‘I tell it in the manner they tell all stories in my country,’
- answered Sancho, ‘and I cannot tell it otherwise, nor ought your
- Worship to require me to make new customs.’
-
- ‘Tell it as thou wilt, then,’ said Don Quixote; ‘since it is the
- will of fate that I should hear it, go on.’
-
- Sancho continued:
-
- ‘He looked about him until he espied a fisherman with a boat
- near him, but so small that it could only hold one person and
- one goat. The fisherman got into the boat and carried over one
- goat; he returned and carried another; he came back again and
- carried another. Pray, sir, keep an account of the goats which the
- fisherman is carrying over, for if you lose count of a single one,
- the story ends, and it will be impossible to tell a word more....
- I go on, then.... He returned for another goat, and another, and
- another and another----’
-
- ‘_Suppose_ them all carried over,’ said Don Quixote, ‘or thou wilt
- not have finished carrying them this twelve months.’
-
- ‘Tell me, how many have passed already?’ said Sancho.
-
- ‘How should I know?’ answered Don Quixote.
-
- ‘See there, now! Did I not tell thee to keep an exact account?
- There is an end of the story. I can go no further.’
-
- ‘How can this be?’ said Don Quixote. ‘Is it so essential to the
- story to know the exact number of goats that passed over, that if
- one error be made the story can proceed no further?’
-
- ‘Even so,’ said Sancho Panza.”
-
-VIII.--_The danger of over-explanation._ Again, another danger lurks in
-the temptation to offer over much explanation of the story, which is
-common to most story-tellers. This is fatal to the artistic success of
-any story, but it is even more serious in connection with stories told
-from an educational point of view, because it hampers the imagination
-of the listener; and since the development of that faculty is one of
-our chief aims in telling these stories, we must let it have free play,
-nor must we test the effect, as I have said before, by the material
-method of asking questions. My own experience is that the fewer
-explanations you offer (provided you have been careful with the choice
-of your material and artistic in the presentation) the more readily the
-child will supplement by his own thinking power what is necessary for
-the understanding of the story.
-
-Queyrat says: “A child has no need of seizing on the exact meaning of
-words; on the contrary, a certain lack of precision seems to stimulate
-his imagination only the more vigorously, since it gives it a broader
-liberty and firmer independence.”[10]
-
-IX.--One special danger lies in the _lowering of the standard of the
-story_ in order to cater to the undeveloped taste of the child. I am
-alluding here only to the story which is presented from the educational
-point of view. There are moments of relaxation in a child's life, as in
-that of an adult, when a lighter taste can be gratified. I am alluding
-now to the standard of story for school purposes.
-
-There is one development of the subject which seems to have been very
-little considered either in the United States or in our own country,
-namely, the telling of stories to _old_ people, and that not only in
-institutions or in quiet country villages, but in the heart of the
-busy cities and in the homes of these old people. How often, when the
-young people are able to enjoy outside amusements, the old people,
-necessarily confined to the chimney-corner and many unable to read
-much for themselves, might return to the joy of their childhood by
-hearing some of the old stories told them in dramatic form. Here is
-a delightful occupation for those of the leisured class who have the
-gift, and a much more effective way of capturing attention than the
-more usual form of reading aloud.
-
-Lady Gregory, in talking to the workhouse folk in Ireland, was moved
-by the strange contrast between the poverty of the tellers and the
-splendours of the tale.
-
-She says: “The stories they love are of quite visionary things; of
-swans that turn into kings' daughters, and of castles with crowns
-over the doors, and of lovers' flight on the backs of eagles, and
-music-loving witches, and journeys to the other world, and sleeps that
-last for 700 years.”
-
-I fear it is only the Celtic imagination that will glory in such
-romantic material; but I am sure the men and women of the poorhouse are
-much more interested than we are apt to think in stories outside the
-small circle of their lives.
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[2] With regard to the right moment for choosing this kind of story, I
-shall return to the subject in a later chapter.
-
-[3] I venture to hope (at this long distance of years) that my language
-in telling the story was more simple than appears from this account.
-
-[4] This difference of spelling in the same essay will be much
-appreciated by those who know how gladly children offer an
-orthographical alternative, in hopes that one if not the other may
-satisfy the exigency of the situation.
-
-[5] I refer, of course, to the Irish in their native atmosphere.
-
-[6] See List of Stories.
-
-[7] This was at the Congressional Library at Washington.
-
-[8] Page 55.
-
-[9] In further illustration of this point see “When Burbage played”
-(Austin Dobson) and “In the Nursery” (Hans C. Andersen).
-
-[10] From “Les Jeux des Enfants,” page 16.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-THE ESSENTIALS OF THE STORY.
-
-
-IT would be a truism to suggest that dramatic instinct and dramatic
-power of expression are naturally the first essentials for success in
-the Art of Story-telling, and that, without these, no story-teller
-would go very far; but I maintain that, even with these gifts, no
-high standard of performance will be reached without certain other
-qualities--among the first of which I place _apparent_ simplicity,
-which is really the _art_ of _concealing_ the art.
-
-I am speaking here of the public story-teller, or of the teachers with
-a group of children--not the spontaneous (and most rare) power of
-telling stories at the fireside by some gifted village grandmother,
-such as Béranger gives us in his poem, _Souvenirs du Peuple_:
-
- Mes enfants, dans ce village,
- Suivi de rois, il passa;
- Voilà bien longtemps de ça;
- Je venais d'entrer en ménage.
- A pied grimpant le côteau,
- Où pour voir je m'étais mise.
- Il avait petit chapeau
- Avec redingote grise.
- Près de lui je me troublai!
- Il me dit: Bonjour, ma chère,
- Bonjour, ma chère.
- Il vous a parlé, grand'mère?
- Il vous a parlé?
-
-I am sceptical enough to think that it is not the spontaneity of the
-grandmother but the art of Béranger which enhances the effect of the
-story told in the poem.
-
-This intimate form of narration, which is delightful in its special
-surroundings, would fail to _reach_, much less _hold_, a large
-audience, _not_ because of its simplicity but often because of the want
-of skill in arranging material and of the artistic sense of selection
-which brings the interest to a focus and arranges the sidelights. In
-short, the simplicity we need for the ordinary purpose is that which
-comes from ease and produces a sense of being able to let ourselves go,
-because we have thought out our effects: it is when we translate our
-instinct into art that the story becomes finished and complete.
-
-I find it necessary to emphasise this point because people are apt
-to confuse simplicity of delivery with carelessness of utterance,
-loose stringing of sentences of which the only connections seem to be
-the ever-recurring use of “and” and “so,” and “er ...”--this latter
-inarticulate sound has done more to ruin a story and distract the
-audience than many more glaring errors of dramatic form.
-
-The real simplicity holds the audience because the lack of apparent
-effort in the artist has the most comforting effect upon the listener.
-It is like turning from the whirring machinery of process to the
-finished article, bearing no trace of manufacture except in the harmony
-and beauty of the whole, from which we realise that the individual
-parts have received all proper attention.
-
-And what really brings about this apparent simplicity which ensures the
-success of the story? It has been admirably expressed in a passage from
-Henry James's lecture on Balzac:
-
-“The fault in the Artist which amounts most completely to a failure of
-dignity is the absence of _saturation with his idea_. When saturation
-fails, no other real presence avails, as when, on the other hand, it
-operates, no failure of method fatally interferes.”
-
-I now offer two illustrations of the effect of this saturation, one to
-show that the failure of method does not prevent successful effect, the
-other to show that when it is combined with the necessary secondary
-qualities the perfection of art is reached.
-
-In illustration of the first point, I recall an experience in the North
-of England when the Head Mistress of an elementary school asked me to
-hear a young, inexperienced girl tell a story to a group of very small
-children.
-
-When she began, I felt somewhat hopeless, because of the complete
-failure of method. She seemed to have all the faults most damaging to
-the success of a speaker. Her voice was harsh, her gestures awkward,
-her manner was restless and melodramatic; but as she went on, I soon
-began to discount all these faults and, in truth, I soon forgot
-about them, for so absorbed was she in her story, so saturated with
-her subject, that she quickly communicated her own interest to her
-audience, and the children were absolutely spellbound.
-
-The other illustration is connected with a memorable peep behind the
-stage, when the late M. Coquelin had invited me to see him in the
-green-room between the first and second Acts of “L'Abbé Constantin,”
-one of the plays given during his last season in London, the year
-before his death. The last time I had met M. Coquelin was at a
-dinner-party, where I had been dazzled by the brilliant conversation
-of this great artist in the rôle of a man of the world. But on this
-occasion, I met the simple, kindly priest, so absorbed in his rôle
-that he inspired me with the wish to offer a donation for his poor,
-and on taking leave to ask for his blessing for myself. Whilst
-talking to him, I had felt puzzled: it was only when I had left him
-that I realised what had happened--namely, that he was too thoroughly
-saturated with his subject to be able to drop his rôle during the
-interval, in order to assume the more ordinary one of host and man of
-the world.
-
-Now, it is this spirit I would wish to inculcate into the would-be
-story-tellers. If they would apply themselves in this manner to their
-work, it would bring about a revolution in the art of presentation,
-that is, in the art of teaching. The difficulty of the practical
-application of this theory is the constant plea, on the part of the
-teachers, that there is not the time to work for such a standard in an
-art which is so apparently simple that the work expended on it would
-never be appreciated.
-
-My answer to this objection is that, though the counsel of perfection
-would be to devote a great deal of time to the story, so as to prepare
-the atmosphere quite as much as the mere action of the little drama
-(just as photographers use time exposure to obtain sky effects, as well
-as the more definite objects in the picture), yet it is not so much a
-question of time as concentration on the subject which is one of the
-chief factors in the preparation of the story.
-
-So many story-tellers are satisfied with cheap results, and most
-audiences are not critical enough to encourage a high standard.[11] The
-method of “showing the machinery” has more immediate results, and it is
-easy to become discouraged over the drudgery which is not necessary to
-secure the approbation of the largest number. But, since I am dealing
-with the essentials of really good story-telling, I may be pardoned for
-suggesting the highest standard and the means for reaching it.
-
-Therefore I maintain that capacity for work, and even drudgery, is
-among the essentials of story work. Personally I know of nothing more
-interesting than to watch the story grow gradually from mere outline
-into a dramatic whole. It is the same pleasure, I imagine, which is
-felt over the gradual development of a beautiful design on a loom.
-I do not mean machine-made work, which has to be done under adverse
-conditions, in a certain time, and is similar to thousands of other
-pieces of work; but that work upon which we can bestow unlimited time
-and concentrated thought.
-
-The special joy in the slowly-prepared story comes in the exciting
-moment when the persons, or even the inanimate objects, become alive
-and move as of themselves.
-
-I remember spending two or three discouraging weeks with Andersen's
-story of the “Adventures of a Beetle.” I passed through times of
-great depression, because all the little creatures--beetles, earwigs,
-frogs, etc.--behaved in such a conventional, stilted way (instead of
-displaying the strong individuality which Andersen had bestowed upon
-them) that I began to despair of presenting a live company at all.
-
-But one day the Beetle, so to speak, “took the stage,” and at once
-there was life and animation among the minor characters. Then the main
-work was done, and there remained only the comparatively easy task of
-guiding the movement of the little drama, suggesting side issues and
-polishing the details, always keeping a careful eye on the Beetle,
-that he might “gang his ain gait” and preserve to the full his own
-individuality.
-
-There is a tendency in preparing stories to begin with detail work
-(often a gesture or side issue which one has remembered from hearing
-a story told), but if this is done before the contemplative period,
-only scrappy, jerky and ineffective results are obtained, on which one
-cannot count for dramatic effects. This kind of preparation reminds one
-of a young peasant woman who was taken to see a performance of _Wilhelm
-Tell_, and when questioned as to the plot, could only sum it up by
-saying, “I know some fruit was shot at.”[12]
-
-I realise the extreme difficulty for teachers to devote the necessary
-time to the perfecting of the stories they tell in school, because
-this is only one of the subjects they have to take in an already
-over-crowded curriculum. To them I would offer this practical advice:
-_Do not be afraid to repeat your stories_.[13] If you did not undertake
-more than seven stories a year (chosen with infinite care), and if you
-repeated these stories six times during the year of forty-two weeks,
-you would be able to do artistic (and therefore lasting) work; you
-would give a very great deal of pleasure to the children, who delight
-in hearing a story many times. You would be able to avoid the direct
-moral application (to which subject I shall return later on); for
-each time a child hears a story artistically told, a little more of
-the meaning underlying the simple story will come to him without any
-explanation on your part. The habit of doing one's best, instead of
-one's second-best, means, in the long run, that one has no interest
-except in the preparation of the best, and the stories, few in number,
-polished and finished in style, will have an effect of which one can
-scarcely over-state the importance.
-
-In the story of the Swineherd,[14] Hans Andersen says:
-
-“On the grave of the Prince's father there grew a rose-tree. It only
-bloomed once in five years, and only bore one rose. But what a rose!
-Its perfume was so exquisite that whoever smelt it forgot at once all
-his cares and sorrows.”
-
-Lafcadio Hearn says: “Time weeds out the errors and stupidities of
-cheap success, and presents the Truth. It takes, like the aloe, a
-long time to flower, but the blossom is all the more precious when it
-appears.”
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[11] A noted Greek gymnast struck his pupil, though he was applauded
-by the whole assembly. “You did it clumsily, and not as you ought, for
-these people would never have praised you for anything really artistic.”
-
-[12] For further details on the question of preparation of the story,
-see chapter on “Questions asked by Teachers.”
-
-[13] Sully says that children love exact repetition because of the
-intense enjoyment bound up with the process of imaginative realisation.
-
-[14] See p. 150.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III.
-
-THE ARTIFICES OF STORY-TELLING.
-
-
-BY this term I do not mean anything against the gospel of simplicity
-which I am so constantly preaching, but, for want of a better term,
-I use the word “artifice” to express the mechanical devices by which
-we endeavour to attract and hold the attention of the audience. The
-art of telling stories is, in truth, much more difficult than acting
-a part on the stage: first, because the narrator is responsible for
-the whole drama and the whole atmosphere which surrounds it. He has to
-live the life of each character and understand the relation which each
-bears to the whole. Secondly, because the stage is a miniature one,
-gestures and movements must all be so adjusted as not to destroy the
-sense of proportion. I have often noticed that actors, accustomed to
-the more roomy public stage, are apt to be too broad in their gestures
-and movements when they tell a story. The special training for the
-Story-teller should consist not only in the training of the voice and
-in choice of language, but above all in power of _delicate_ suggestion,
-which cannot always be used on the stage because this is hampered by
-the presence of _actual things_. The Story-teller has to present these
-things to the more delicate organism of the “inward eye.”
-
-So deeply convinced am I of the miniature character of the
-Story-telling Art that I do not believe you can ever get a perfectly
-artistic presentation of this kind in a very large hall or before a
-very large audience.
-
-I have made experiments along this line, having twice told a story to
-an audience exceeding five thousand, in the States,[15] but on both
-occasions, though the dramatic reaction upon oneself from the response
-of so large an audience was both gratifying and stimulating, I was
-forced to sacrifice the delicacy of the story and to take from its
-artistic value by the necessity of emphasis, in order to be heard by
-all present.
-
-Emphasis is the bane of all story-telling, for it destroys the
-delicacy, and the whole performance suggests a struggle in conveying
-the message; the indecision of the victory leaves the audience restless
-and unsatisfied.
-
-Then, again, as compared with acting on the stage, in telling a story
-you miss the help of effective entrances and exits, the footlights, the
-costume, the facial expression of your fellow-actor which interprets
-so much of what you yourself say without further elaboration on your
-part; for, in the story, in case of a dialogue which necessitates great
-subtlety and quickness in facial expression and gesture, you have to be
-both speaker and listener.
-
-Now, of what artifices can we make use to take the place of all the
-extraneous help offered to actors on the stage?
-
-First and foremost, as a means of suddenly pulling up the attention of
-the audience, is the judicious Art of Pausing.
-
-For those who have not actually had experience in the matter, this
-advice will seem trite and unnecessary, but those who have even a
-little experience will realise with me the extraordinary efficacy of
-this very simple means. It is really what Coquelin spoke of as a “high
-light,” where the interest is focussed, as it were, to a point.
-
-I have tried this simple art of _pausing_ with every kind of audience,
-and I have very rarely known it to fail. It is very difficult to
-offer a concrete example of this, unless one is giving a “live”
-representation; but I shall make an attempt, and at least I shall hope
-to make myself understood by those who have heard me tell stories.
-
-In Hans C. Andersen's “Princess and the Pea,”[16] the King goes down to
-open the door himself. Now, you may make this point in two ways. You
-may either say: “And then the King went to the door, and at the door
-there stood a real Princess,” or, “And then the King went to the door,
-and at the door there stood--(pause)--a real Princess.”
-
-It is difficult to exaggerate the difference of effect produced
-by so slight a cause.[17] With children it means an unconscious
-curiosity which expresses itself in a sudden muscular tension--there
-is just time, during that instant's pause, to _feel_, though not
-to _formulate_, the question: “What is standing at the door?” By
-this means half your work of holding the attention is accomplished.
-It is not necessary for me to enter into the psychological reason
-of this, but I strongly recommend those who are interested in the
-question to read the chapter in Ribot's work on this subject, _Essai
-sur l'Imagination créatrice_, as well as Mr. Keatinge's work on
-“Suggestion.”
-
-I would advise all teachers to revise their stories with a view to
-introducing the judicious Pause, and to vary its use according to the
-age, the number and, above all, the mood of the audience. Experience
-alone can ensure success in this matter. It has taken me many years to
-realise the importance of this artifice.
-
-Among other means of holding the attention of the audience and helping
-to bring out the points of the story is the use of gesture. I consider,
-however, it must be a sparing use, and not of a broad or definite
-character. We shall never improve on the advice given by Hamlet to
-the actors on this subject: “See that ye o'erstep not the modesty of
-Nature.”
-
-And yet, perhaps, it is not necessary to warn Story-tellers against
-_abuse_ of gesture: it is more helpful to encourage them in the use
-of it, especially in Anglo-Saxon countries, where we are fearful of
-expressing ourselves in this way, and, when we do, the gesture often
-lacks subtlety. The Anglo-Saxon, when he does move at all, moves in
-solid blocks--a whole arm, a whole leg, the whole body--but if you
-watch a Frenchman or an Italian in conversation, you suddenly realise
-how varied and subtle are the things which can be suggested by the mere
-turn of the wrist or the movement of a finger. The power of the hand
-has been so wonderfully summed up in a passage from Quintilian that I
-am justified in offering it to all those who wish to realise what can
-be done by gesture:
-
-“As to the hands, without the aid of which all delivery would be
-deficient and weak, it can scarcely be told of what a variety of
-motions they are susceptible, since they almost equal in expression
-the power of language itself. For other parts of the body assist the
-speaker, but these, I may almost say, speak themselves. With our hands
-we ask, promise, call persons to us and send them away, threaten,
-supplicate, intimate dislike or fear; with our hands we signify
-joy, grief, doubt, acknowledgment, penitence, and indicate measure,
-quantity, number and time. Have not our hands the power of inciting,
-of restraining, or beseeching, of testifying approbation.... So that
-amidst the great diversity of tongues pervading all nations and
-peoples, the language of the hands appears to be a language common to
-all men.” (From “Education of an Orator,” Book II, Chap. 3.)
-
-One of the most effective artifices in telling stories to young
-children is the use of mimicry--the imitation of animals' voices and
-sounds in general is of never-ending joy to the listeners. Only, I
-should wish to introduce a note of grave warning in connection with
-this subject. This special artifice can only be used by such narrators
-as have special aptitude and gifts in this direction. There are many
-people with good imaginative power but wholly lacking in the power of
-mimicry, whose efforts in this direction, however painstaking, would
-remain grotesque and therefore ineffective. When listening to such
-performances (of which children are strangely critical) one is reminded
-of the French story in which the amateur animal painter is showing her
-picture to an undiscriminating friend:
-
-“Ah!” says the friend, “this is surely meant for a lion?”
-
-“No,” says the artist, with some slight show of temper; “it is my
-little lap-dog.”
-
-Another artifice which is particularly successful with very small
-children is to ensure their attention by inviting their co-operation
-before you actually begin the story. The following has proved quite
-effective as a short introduction to my stories when I was addressing
-large audiences of children:
-
-“Do you know that last night I had a very strange dream, which I am
-going to tell you before I begin the stories. I dreamed that I was
-walking along the streets of---- (here would follow the town in which
-I happened to be speaking), with a large bundle on my shoulders, and
-this bundle was full of stories which I had been collecting all over
-the world in different countries; and I was shouting at the top of my
-voice: ‘Stories! Stories! Stories! Who will listen to my stories?’
-And the children came flocking round me in my dream, saying: ‘Tell
-_us_ your stories. _We_ will listen to your stories.’ So I pulled out
-a story from my big bundle and I began in a most excited way, ‘Once
-upon a time there lived a King and a Queen who had no children, and
-they----’ Here a little boy, _very_ much like that little boy I see
-sitting in the front row, stopped me, saying: ‘Oh! I know _that_ old
-story; it's Sleeping Beauty.’
-
-“So I pulled out a second story, and began: ‘Once upon a time there was
-a little girl who was sent by her mother to visit her grandmother----’
-Then a little girl, so much like the one sitting at the end of the
-second row, said: 'Oh! everybody knows that story! It's----’”
-
-Here I would make a judicious pause, and then the children in the
-audience would shout in chorus, with joyful superiority: “Little Red
-Riding-Hood!” (before I had time to explain that the children in my
-dream had done the same).
-
-This method I repeated two or three times, being careful to choose very
-well-known stories. By this time the children were all encouraged and
-stimulated. I usually finished with congratulations on the number of
-stories they knew, expressing a hope that some of those I was going to
-tell that afternoon would be new to them.
-
-I have rarely found this plan fail for establishing a friendly relation
-between oneself and the juvenile audience.
-
-It is often a matter of great difficulty, not to _win_ the attention of
-an audience but to _keep_ it, and one of the most subtle artifices is
-to let the audience down (without their perceiving it) after a dramatic
-situation, so that the reaction may prepare them for the interest of
-the next situation.
-
-An excellent instance of this is to be found in Rudyard Kipling's story
-of “The Cat that walked ...” where the repetition of words acts as a
-sort of sedative until you realise the beginning of a fresh situation.
-
-The great point is never to let the audience quite down, that is, in
-stories which depend on dramatic situations. It is just a question
-of shade and colour in the language. If you are telling a story in
-sections, and spread over two or three occasions, you should always
-stop at an exciting moment. It encourages speculation between whiles in
-the children's minds, which increases their interest when the story is
-taken up again.
-
-Another very necessary quality in the mere artifice of story-telling is
-to watch your audience, so as to be able to know whether its mood is
-for action or reaction, and to alter your story accordingly. The moods
-of reaction are rarer, and you must use them for presenting a different
-kind of material. Here is your opportunity for introducing a piece of
-poetic description, given in beautiful language, to which the children
-cannot listen when they are eager for action and dramatic excitement.
-
-Perhaps one of the greatest artifices is to take a quick hold of your
-audience by a striking beginning which will enlist their attention from
-the start; you can then relax somewhat, but you must be careful also
-of the end, because that is what remains most vivid for the children.
-If you question them as to which story they like best in a programme,
-you will constantly find it to be the last one you have told, which has
-for the moment blurred out the others.
-
-Here are a few specimens of beginnings which seldom fail to arrest the
-attention of the child:
-
- “There was once a giant ogre, and he lived in a cave by himself.”
- --_From_ “_The Giant and the Jackstraws_,” Starr Jordan.
-
- “There were once twenty-five tin soldiers, who were all brothers,
- for they had been made out of the same old tin spoon.”
- --_From_ “_The Tin Soldier_,” Hans C. Andersen.
-
- “There was once an Emperor who had a horse shod with gold.”
- --_From_ “_The Beetle_,” Hans C. Andersen.
-
- “There was once a merchant who was so rich that he could have paved
- the whole street with gold, and even then he would have had enough
- for a small alley.”
- --_From_ “_The Flying Trunk_,” Hans C. Andersen.
-
- “There was once a shilling which came forth from the mint springing
- and shouting, 'Hurrah! Now I am going out into the wide world.'”
- --_From_ “_The Silver Shilling_,” Hans C. Andersen.
-
- “In the High and Far Off Times the Elephant, O Best Beloved, had no
- trunk.”
- --_From_ “_The Elephant's Child_”: _Just So Stories_, Rudyard
- Kipling.
-
- “Not always was the Kangaroo as now we behold him, but a Different
- Animal with four short legs.”
- --_From_ “_Old Man Kangaroo_”: _Just So Stories_, Rudyard Kipling.
-
- “Whichever way I turn,” said the weather-cock on a high steeple,
- “no one is satisfied.”
- --_From_ “_Fireside Fables_,” Edwin Barrow.
-
- “A set of chessmen, left standing on their board, resolved to alter
- the rules of the game.”
- --_From the same source._
-
- “The Pink Parasol had tender whalebone ribs and a slender stick of
- cherry-wood.”
- --_From_ “_Very Short Stories_,” Mrs. W. K. Clifford.
-
- “There was once a poor little Donkey on Wheels; it had never wagged
- its tail, or tossed its head, or said ‘Hee-haw,’ or tasted a tender
- thistle.”
- --_From the same source._
-
-Now, some of these beginnings are, of course, for very young children,
-but they all have the same advantage, that of plunging _in medias res_,
-and therefore are able to arrest attention at once, as distinct from
-the stories which open on a leisurely note of description.
-
-In the same way we must be careful about the endings of the stories;
-in some way or other they must impress themselves either in a very
-dramatic climax to which the whole story has worked up, such as we have
-in the following:
-
- “Then he goes out to the Wet Wild Woods, or up the Wet Wild Trees,
- or on the Wet Wild Roofs, waving his Wild Tail, and walking by his
- Wild Lone.”
- --_From_ “_Just So Stories_,” Rudyard Kipling.
-
-Or by an anti-climax for effect:
-
- “We have all this straight out of the alderman's newspaper, but it
- is not to be depended on.”
- --_From_ “_Jack the Dullard_,” Hans C. Andersen.
-
-Or by evading the point:
-
- “Whoever does not believe this must buy shares in the Tanner's
- yard.”
- --_From_ “_A Great Grief_,” Hans C. Andersen.
-
-Or by some striking general comment:
-
- “He has never caught up with the three days he missed at the
- beginning of the world, and he has never learnt how to behave.”
- --_From_ “_How the Camel got his Hump_”: _Just So Stories_,
- Rudyard Kipling.
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[15] Once at the Summer School at Chatauqua, New York, and once in
-Lincoln Park, Chicago.
-
-[16] See p. 156.
-
-[17] There must be no more emphasis in the second manner than the first.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV.
-
-ELEMENTS TO AVOID IN SELECTION OF MATERIAL.
-
-
-I AM confronted, in this portion of my work, with a great difficulty,
-because I cannot afford to be as catholic as I could wish (this
-rejection or selection of material being primarily intended for those
-story-tellers dealing with normal children); but I wish from the outset
-to distinguish between a story told to an individual child in the
-home circle or by a personal friend, and a story told to a group of
-children as part of the school curriculum. And if I seem to reiterate
-this difference, it is because I wish to show very clearly that the
-recital of parents and friends may be quite separate in content and
-manner from that offered by the teaching world. In the former case,
-almost any subject can be treated, because, knowing the individual
-temperament of the child, a wise parent or friend knows also what can
-be presented or _not_ presented to the child; but in dealing with a
-group of normal children in school, much has to be eliminated that
-could be given fearlessly to the abnormal child: I mean the child who,
-by circumstances or temperament, is developed beyond its years.
-
-I shall now mention some of the elements which experience has shown me
-to be unsuitable for class stories.
-
-I.--_Stories dealing with analysis of motive and feeling._
-
-This warning is specially necessary to-day, because this is above all
-an age of introspection and analysis. We have only to glance at the
-principal novels and plays during the last quarter of a century--most
-especially during the last ten years--to see how this spirit has crept
-into our literature and life.
-
-Now, this tendency to analyse is obviously more dangerous for children
-than for adults, because, from lack of experience and knowledge of
-psychology, the child's analysis is incomplete. He cannot see all the
-causes of the action, nor can he make that philosophical allowance for
-mood which brings the adult to truer conclusions.
-
-Therefore we should discourage children who show a tendency to analyse
-too closely the motives of their actions, and refrain from presenting
-in our stories any example which might encourage them to persist in
-this course.
-
-I remember, on one occasion, when I went to say good-night to a little
-girl of my acquaintance, I found her sitting up in bed, very wide
-awake. Her eyes were shining, her cheeks were flushed, and when I asked
-her what had excited her so much, she said:
-
-“I _know_ I have done something wrong to-day, but I cannot quite
-remember what it was.”
-
-I said: “But Phyllis, if you put your hand, which is really quite
-small, in front of your eyes, you could not see the shape of anything
-else, however large it might be. Now, what you have done to-day appears
-very large because it is so close, but when it is a little further off,
-you will be able to see better and know more about it. So let us wait
-till to-morrow morning.”
-
-I am happy to say that she took my advice. She was soon fast asleep,
-and the next morning she had forgotten the wrong over which she had
-been unhealthily brooding the night before.[18]
-
-II.--_Stories dealing too much with sarcasm and satire._ These are
-weapons which are too sharply polished, and therefore too dangerous,
-to place in the hands of children. For here again, as in the case
-of analysis, they can only have a very incomplete conception of the
-case. They do not know the real cause which produces the apparently
-ridiculous situation: it is experience and knowledge which lead to the
-discovery of the pathos and sadness which often underlie the ridiculous
-appearance, and it is only the abnormally gifted child or grown-up
-person who discovers this by instinct. It takes a lifetime to arrive at
-the position described in Sterne's words: “I would not have let fallen
-an unseasonable pleasantry in the venerable presence of misery to be
-entitled to all the Wit which Rabelais has ever scattered.”
-
-I will hasten to add that I should not wish children to have their
-sympathy too much drawn out, or their emotions kindled too much to
-pity, because this would be neither healthy nor helpful to themselves
-or others. I only want to protect the children from the dangerous
-critical attitude induced by the use of satire: it sacrifices too much
-of the atmosphere of trust and belief in human beings which ought to
-be an essential of child-life. If we indulge in satire, the sense of
-kindness in children tends to become perverted, their sympathy cramped,
-and they themselves to become old before their time. We have an
-excellent example of this in Hans C. Andersen's “Snow Queen.”
-
-When Kay gets the piece of broken mirror into his eye, he no longer
-sees the world from the normal child's point of view: he can no longer
-see anything but the foibles of those about him--a condition usually
-only reached by a course of pessimistic experience.
-
-Andersen sums up the unnatural point of view in these words:
-
-“When Kay tried to repeat the Lord's Prayer, he could only remember the
-multiplication table.” Now, without taking these words in any literal
-sense, we can admit that they represent the development of the head at
-the expense of the heart.
-
-An example of this kind of story to avoid is Andersen's “Story of the
-Butterfly.” The bitterness of the Anemones, the sentimentality of the
-Violets, the schoolgirlishness of the Snowdrops, the domesticity of
-the Sweet-peas--all this tickles the palate of the adult, but does
-not belong to the plane of the normal child. Again I repeat that
-the unusual child may take all this in and even preserve its kindly
-attitude towards the world, but it is a dangerous atmosphere for the
-ordinary child.
-
-III.--_Stories of a sentimental kind._ Strange to say, this element of
-sentimentality often appeals more to the young teachers than to the
-children themselves. It is difficult to define the difference between
-sentiment and sentimentality, but the healthy normal boy or girl
-of--let us say ten or eleven years old seems to feel it unconsciously,
-though the distinction is not so clear a few years later.
-
-Mrs. Elizabeth McKracken contributed an excellent article some years
-ago to the American _Outlook_ on the subject of literature for
-the young, in which we find a good illustration of this power of
-discrimination on the part of a child.
-
-A young teacher was telling her pupils the story of the emotional lady
-who, to put her lover to the test, bade him pick up the glove which
-she had thrown down into the arena between the tiger and the lion. The
-lover does her bidding, in order to vindicate his character as a brave
-knight. One boy, after hearing the story, at once states his contempt
-for the knight's acquiescence, which he declares to be unworthy.
-
-“But,” says the teacher, “you see he really did it to show the lady how
-foolish she was.” The answer of the boy sums up what I have been trying
-to show: “There was no sense in _his_ being sillier than _she_ was, to
-show her _she_ was silly.”
-
-If the boy had stopped there, we might have concluded that he was
-lacking in imagination or romance, but his next remark proves what a
-balanced and discriminating person he was, for he added: “Now, if _she_
-had fallen in, and he had leapt after her to rescue her, that would
-have been splendid and of some use.” Given the character of the lady,
-we might, as adults, question the last part of the boy's statement, but
-this is pure cynicism and fortunately does not enter into the child's
-calculations.
-
-In my own personal experience (and I have told this story often in the
-German ballad form to girls of ten and twelve in the High Schools in
-England) I have never found one girl who sympathised with the lady or
-who failed to appreciate the poetic justice meted out to her in the end
-by the dignified renunciation of the knight.
-
-Chesterton defines sentimentality as “a tame, cold, or small and
-inadequate manner of speaking about certain matters which demand very
-large and beautiful expression.”
-
-I would strongly urge upon young teachers to revise, by this
-definition, some of the stories they have included in their repertory,
-and see whether they would stand the test or not.
-
-IV.--_Stories containing strong sensational episodes._ The danger is
-all the greater because many children delight in it, and some crave for
-it in the abstract, but fear it in the concrete.[19]
-
-An affectionate aunt, on one occasion, anxious to curry favour with
-a four-year-old nephew, was taxing her imagination to find a story
-suitable for his tender years. She was greatly startled when he
-suddenly said, in a most imperative tone: “Tell me the story of a
-_bear_ eating a small boy.” This was so remote from her own choice
-of subject that she hesitated at first, but coming to the conclusion
-that as the child had chosen the situation he would feel no terror
-in the working up of its details, she began a most thrilling and
-blood-curdling story, leading up to the final catastrophe. But just as
-she had reached the great dramatic moment, the child raised his hands
-in terror and said: “Oh! Auntie, don't let the bear _really_ eat the
-boy!”
-
-“Don't you know,” said an impatient boy who had been listening to a
-mild adventure story considered suitable to his years, “that I don't
-take any interest in the story until the decks are dripping with gore?”
-Here we have no opportunity of deciding whether or not the actual
-description demanded would be more alarming than the listener had
-realised.
-
-Here is a poem of James Stephens, showing a child's taste for
-sensational things:--
-
- A man was sitting underneath a tree
- Outside the village, and he asked me
- What name was upon this place, and said he
- Was never here before. He told a
- Lot of stories to me too. His nose was flat.
- I asked him how it happened, and he said,
- The first mate of the “Mary Ann” done that,
- With a marling-spike one day, but he was dead,
- And a jolly job too, but he'd have gone a long way to have
- killed him.
- A gold ring in one ear, and the other was bit off by a crocodile,
- bedad,
- That's what he said: He taught me how to chew.
- He was a real nice man. He liked me too.
-
-The taste that is fed by the sensational contents of the newspapers
-and the dramatic excitement of street life, and some of the lurid
-representations of the Kinematograph, is so much stimulated that the
-interest in normal stories is difficult to rouse. I will not here dwell
-on the deleterious effects of over dramatic stimulation, which has been
-known to lead to crime, since I am keener to prevent the telling of too
-many sensational stories than to suggest a cure when the mischief is
-done. Kate Douglas Wiggin has said:
-
-“Let us be realistic, by all means, but beware, O Story-teller, of
-being too realistic. Avoid the shuddering tale of ‘the wicked boy who
-stoned the birds,’ lest some hearer should be inspired to try the
-dreadful experiment and see if it really does kill.”
-
-I must emphasise the fact, however, that it is only the excess of
-this dramatic element which I deplore. A certain amount of excitement
-is necessary; but this question belongs to the positive side of the
-subject, and I shall deal with it later on.
-
-V.--_Stories presenting matters quite outside the plane of the child_
-(unless they are wrapped in mystery, which is of great educational
-value).
-
-The element I wish to eliminate is the one which would make children
-world-wise and old before their time.
-
-A small American child who had entertained a guest in her mother's
-absence, when questioned as to whether she had shown all the
-hospitality the mother would have considered necessary, said: “Oh! yes.
-And I talked to her in the kind of ‘dressy’ tone _you_ use on your ‘At
-Home’ days.”
-
-On one occasion I was lecturing in the town of Cleveland, and was to
-stay in the house of a lady whom I had met only once, in New York, but
-with true American hospitality she had begged me to make her house my
-home during the whole of my stay in Cleveland. In writing to invite
-me, she mentioned the pleasure it would afford her little ten-year-old
-daughter to make my acquaintance, and added this somewhat enigmatic
-sentence: “Mignon has asked permission to dedicate her _last_ work to
-you.” I was alarmed at the word _last_, given the age of the author,
-and felt sorry that the literary faculty had developed quite so early,
-lest the unfettered and irresponsible years of childhood should have
-been sacrificed. I was still more troubled when, upon my arrival,
-I learned that the title of the book which was to be dedicated to
-me was “The Two Army Girls,” and contained the elaborate history of
-a double courtship. But, as the story was read to me, I was soon
-disarmed. A more innocent recital I never heard--and it was all the
-quainter because of certain little grown-up sentences gathered from the
-conversation of elders in unguarded moments, which evidently conveyed
-but slight meaning to the youthful authoress. The final scene between
-two of the lovers is so characteristic that I cannot refrain from
-quoting the actual words. Said John: “I love you, and I wish you to be
-my wife.” “That I will,” said Mary, without any hesitation. “That's all
-right,” said John. “And now let us _get back to the Golf Links_.”
-
-Oh, that modern writers of fiction would “get back to the Golf Links”
-sooner than they do, realising with this little unconscious philosopher
-that there are some reactions from love-making which show a healthy and
-balanced constitution.
-
-Experience with children ought to teach us to avoid stories which
-contain too much _allusion_ to matters of which the hearers are
-entirely ignorant; but, judging from the written stories of to-day,
-supposed to be for children, it is still a matter of difficulty to
-realise that this form of allusion to “foreign” matters, or making a
-joke the appreciation of which depends solely on a special and “inside”
-knowledge, is always bewildering and fatal to sustained dramatic
-interest.
-
-It is a matter of intense regret that so very few people have
-sufficiently clear remembrance of their own childhood to help them to
-understand the taste and point of view of the _normal_ child. There
-is a passage in the “Brownies” (by Mrs. Ewing) which illustrates the
-confusion created in the child mind by a facetious allusion in a
-dramatic moment which needed a more direct treatment.
-
-When the nursery toys have all gone astray, one little child exclaims
-joyfully:
-
-“Why, the old Rocking-Horse's nose has turned up in the oven!”
-
-“It couldn't” remarks a tiresome, facetious doctor, far more anxious
-to be funny than to sympathise with the joy of the child; “it was the
-purest Grecian, modelled from the Elgin marbles.”
-
-Now, for grown-up people this is an excellent joke, but for a child
-who has not yet become acquainted with these Grecian masterpieces, the
-whole remark is pointless and hampering.[20]
-
-VI.--_Stories which appeal to fear or priggishness._ This is a class of
-story to be avoided which scarcely counts to-day and against which the
-teacher does not need a warning; but I wish to make a passing allusion
-to it, partly to round off my subject and partly to show that we have
-made some improvement in choice of subject.
-
-When I study the evolution of the story from the crude recitals
-offered to our children within the last hundred years, I feel that,
-though our progress in intelligent mental catering may be slow, it
-is real and sure. One has only to take some examples from the Chap
-Books of the beginning of last century to realise the difference of
-appeal. Everything offered then was either an appeal to fear or to
-priggishness, and one wonders how it is that our grandparents and their
-parents ever recovered from the effects of such stories as were offered
-to them. But there is the consoling thought that no lasting impression
-was made upon them, such as I believe _may_ be possible by the right
-kind of story.
-
-I offer a few examples of the old type of story:
-
-Here is an encouraging address offered by a certain Mr. Janeway to
-children about the year 1828:
-
-“Dare you do anything which your parents forbid you, and neglect to
-do what they command? Dare you to run up and down on the Lord's Day,
-or do you keep in to read your book, and learn what your good parents
-command?”
-
-Such an address would have almost tempted children to envy the lot of
-orphans, except that the guardians and less close relations might have
-been equally, if not more, severe.
-
-From “The Curious Girl,” published about 1809: “Oh! papa, I hope you
-will have no reason to be dissatisfied with me, for I love my studies
-very much, and I am never so happy at my play as when I have been
-assiduous at my lessons all day.”
-
-“Adolphus: How strange it is, papa, you should believe it possible for
-me to act so like a child, now that I am twelve years old!”
-
-Here is a specimen taken from a Chap-book about 1825:
-
-Edward refuses hot bread at breakfast. His hostess asks whether he
-likes it. “Yes, I am extremely fond of it.” “Why did you refuse it?”
-“Because I know that my papa does not approve of my eating it. Am I to
-disobey a Father and Mother I love so well, and forget my duty, because
-they are a long way off? I would not touch the cake, were I sure nobody
-could see me. I myself should know it, and that would be sufficient.”
-
-“Nobly replied!” exclaimed Mrs. C. “Act always thus, and you must be
-happy, for although the whole world should refuse the praise that is
-due, you must enjoy the approbation of your conscience, which is beyond
-anything else.”
-
-Here is a quotation of the same kind from Mrs. Sherwood:
-
-“Tender-souled little creatures, desolated by a sense of sin, if
-they did but eat a spoonful of cupboard jam without Mamma's express
-permission.... Would a modern Lucy, jealous of her sister Emily's doll,
-break out thus easily into tearful apology for her guilt?--‘I know
-it is wicked in me to be sorry that Emily is happy, but I feel that
-I cannot help it.’ And would a modern mother retort with heartfelt
-joy?--'My dear child, I am glad you have confessed. Now I shall tell
-you why you feel this wicked sorrow'--proceeding to an account of the
-depravity of human nature so unredeemed by comfort for a childish mind
-of common intelligence that one can scarcely imagine the interview
-ending in anything less tragic than a fit of juvenile hysteria.”
-
-Description of a Good Boy. “A good boy is dutiful to his Father and
-Mother, obedient to his master and loving to his playfellows. He is
-diligent in learning his book, and takes a pleasure in improving
-himself in everything that is worthy of praise. He rises early in
-the morning, makes himself clean and decent, and says his prayers.
-He loves to hear good advice, is thankful to those who give it and
-always follows it. He never swears[21] or calls names or uses ill words
-to companions. He is never peevish and fretful, always cheerful and
-good-tempered.”
-
-VII.--_Stories of exaggerated and coarse fun._ In the chapter on the
-positive side of this subject I shall speak more in detail of the
-educational value of robust and virile representation of fun and of
-sheer nonsense, but as a representation to these statements, I should
-like to strike a note of warning about the element of exaggerated and
-coarse fun being encouraged in our school stories, partly because of
-the lack of humour in such presentations--a natural product of stifling
-imagination--and partly because the train of the abnormal has the same
-effect as the too frequent use of the melodramatic.
-
-You have only to read the adventures of Buster Brown, which for years
-formed the Sunday reading of millions of children in the United States,
-to realise what would be the effect of coarse fun and entire absence
-of humour upon the normal child in its everyday experience, an effect
-all the greater because of the real skill with which the illustrations
-are drawn. It is only fair to state that this series was not originally
-prepared or intended for the young, but it is a matter of regret
-(shared by most educationists in the States) that they should ever have
-been given to children at all.
-
-In an article in _Macmillan's Magazine_, Dec. 1869, Miss Yonge writes:
-“A taste for buffoonery is much to be discouraged, an exclusive taste
-for extravagance most unwholesome and even perverting. It becomes
-destructive of reverence and soon degenerates into coarseness. It
-permits nothing poetical or imaginative, nothing sweet or pathetic to
-exist, and there is a certain self-satisfaction and superiority in
-making game of what others regard with enthusiasm and sentiment which
-absolutely bars the way against a higher or softer tone.”
-
-Although these words were written nearly half a century ago, they are
-so specially applicable to-day that they seem quite “up-to-date”:
-indeed, I think they will hold equally good fifty years hence.
-
-In spite of a strong taste on the part of children for what is ugly
-and brutal, I am sure that we ought to eliminate this element as far
-as possible from the school stories--especially among poor children.
-Not because I think children should be protected from all knowledge
-of evil, but because so much of this knowledge comes into their life
-outside school that we can well afford to ignore it during school
-hours. At the same time, however, as I shall show by example when I
-come to the positive side, it would be well to show children by story
-illustration the difference between brute ugliness without anything
-to redeem it and surface ugliness, which may be only a veil over the
-beauty that lies underneath. It might be possible, for instance, to
-show children the difference between the real ugliness of a brutal
-story of crime and an illustration of it in the sensational papers,
-and the apparent ugliness in the priest's face of the “Laocoon” group,
-because of the motive of courage and endurance behind the suffering.
-Many stories in everyday life could be found to illustrate this.
-
-VIII.--_Stories of infant piety and death-bed scenes._ The stories
-for children forty years ago contained much of this element, and the
-following examples will illustrate this point:
-
-Notes from poems written by a child between six and eight years of age,
-by name Philip Freeman, afterwards Archdeacon of Exeter:
-
- Poor Robin, thou canst fly no more,
- Thy joys and sorrows all are o'er.
- Through Life's tempestuous storms thou'st trod,
- But now art sunk beneath the sod.
- Here lost and gone poor Robin lies,
- He trembles, lingers, falls and dies.
- He's gone, he's gone, forever lost,
- No more of him they now can boast.
- Poor Robin's dangers all are past,
- He struggled to the very last.
- Perhaps he spent a happy Life,
- Without much struggle and much strife.
-
- _Published by John Loder, bookseller, Woodbridge, in 1829._
-
-The prolonged gloom of the main theme is somewhat lightened by the
-speculative optimism of the last verse.
-
- Life, transient Life, is but a dream,
- Like Sleep which short doth lengthened seem
- Till dawn of day, when the bird's lay
- Doth charm the soul's first peeping gleam.
-
- Then farewell to the parting year,
- Another's come to Nature dear.
- In every place, thy brightening face
- Does welcome winter's snowy drear.
-
- Alas! our time is much mis-spent.
- Then we must haste and now repent.
- We have a book in which to look,
- For we on Wisdom should be bent.
-
- Should God, the Almighty, King of all,
- Before His judgment-seat now call
- Us to that place of Joy and Grace
- Prepared for us since Adam's fall.
-
-I think there is no doubt that we have made considerable progress in
-this matter. Not only do we refrain from telling these highly moral
-(_sic_) stories but we have reached the point of parodying them,
-in sign of ridicule, as, for instance, in such writing as Belloc's
-“Cautionary Tales.” These would be a trifle too grim for a timid child,
-but excellent fun for adults.
-
-It should be our study to-day to prove to children that the immediate
-importance to them is not to think of dying and going to Heaven, but
-of living and--shall we say?--going to College, which is a far better
-preparation for a life to come than the morbid dwelling upon the
-possibility of an early death.
-
-In an article signed “Muriel Harris,” I think, from a copy of the
-_Tribune_, appeared a delightful article on Sunday Books, from which I
-quote the following:
-
-“All very good little children died young in the story-books, so that
-unusual goodness must have been the source of considerable anxiety to
-affectionate parents. I came across a little old book the other day
-called ‘Examples for Youth.’ On the yellow fly-leaf was written in
-childish, carefully sloping hand: ‘Presented to Mary Palmer Junior, by
-her sister, to be read on Sundays,’ and was dated 1828. The accounts
-are taken from a work on _Piety Promoted_, and all of them begin with
-unusual piety in early youth and end with the death-bed of the little
-paragon, and his or her dying words.”
-
-IX.--_Stories containing a mixture of Fairy Tale and Science._ By this
-combination you lose what is essential to each, namely, the fantastic
-on the one side, and accuracy on the other. The true Fairy Tale should
-be unhampered by any compromise of probability even--the scientific
-representation should be sufficiently marvellous along its own lines to
-need no supernatural aid. Both appeal to the imagination in different
-ways.
-
-As an exception to this kind of mixture, I should quote “The Honey Bee,
-and Other Stories,” translated from the Danish of Evald by C. G. Moore
-Smith. There is a certain robustness in these stories dealing with the
-inexorable laws of Nature, though some of them will appear hard to the
-child; but they will be of interest to all teachers.
-
-Perhaps the worst element in choice of stories is that which insists
-upon the moral detaching itself and explaining the story. In “Alice in
-Wonderland” the Duchess says, “‘And the moral of _that_ is: Take care
-of the sense and the sounds will take care of themselves.’ ‘How fond
-she is of finding morals in things,’ thought Alice to herself.” (This
-gives the point of view of the child.)
-
-The following is a case in point, found in a rare old print in the
-British Museum:
-
-“Jane S. came home with her clothes soiled and hands badly torn. ‘Where
-have you been?’ asked her mother. ‘I fell down the bank near the mill,’
-said Jane, ‘and I should have been drowned if Mr. M. had not seen me
-and pulled me out.’ 'Why did you go so near the edge of the brink?‘
-'There was a pretty flower there that I wanted, and I only meant to
-take one step, but I slipped and fell down.’ Moral: Young people often
-take but one step in sinful indulgence (Poor Jane!), but they fall
-into soul-destroying sins. There is a sinful pleasure which they wish
-to enjoy. They can do it by a single act of sin (the heinous act of
-picking a flower!). They do it; but that act leads to another, and they
-fall into the Gulf of Perdition, unless God interposes.”
-
-Now, apart from the folly of this story, we must condemn it on moral
-grounds. Could we imagine a lower standard of a Deity than that
-presented here to the child?
-
-To-day the teacher would commend Jane for a laudable interest in
-botany, but might add a word of caution about choosing inclined planes
-as a hunting-ground for specimens and a popular, lucid explanation of
-the inexorable law of gravity.
-
-Here we have an instance of applying a moral when we have finished our
-story, but there are many stories where nothing is left to chance in
-this matter, and where there is no means for the child to use ingenuity
-or imagination in making out the meaning for himself.
-
-Henry Morley has condemned the use of this method as applied to Fairy
-Stories. He says: “Moralising in a Fairy Story is like the snoring of
-Bottom in Titania's lap.”
-
-But I think this applies to all stories, and most especially to those
-by which we do wish to teach something.
-
-John Burroughs says in his article,[22] “Thou shalt not preach”:
-
-“Didactic fiction can never rank high. Thou shalt not preach or teach;
-though shalt pourtray and create, and have ends as universal as
-nature.... What Art demands is that the Artist's personal convictions
-and notions, his likes and dislikes, do not obtrude themselves at all;
-that good and evil stand judged in his work by the logic of events,
-as they do in nature, and not by any special pleading on his part. He
-does not hold a brief for either side; he exemplifies the working of
-the creative energy.... The great artist works _in_ and _through_ and
-_from_ moral ideas; his works are indirectly a criticism of life. He
-is moral without having a moral. The moment a moral obtrudes itself,
-that moment he begins to fall from grace as an artist.... The great
-distinction of Art is that it aims to see life steadily and to see it
-whole.... It affords the one point of view whence the world appears
-harmonious and complete.”
-
-It would seem, then, from this passage, that it is of _moral_
-importance to put things dramatically.
-
-In Froebel's “Mother Play” he demonstrates the educational value of
-stories, emphasising that their highest use consists in their ability
-to enable the child, through _suggestion_, to form a pure and noble
-idea of what a man may be or do. The sensitiveness of a child's mind
-is offended if the moral is forced upon him, but if he absorbs it
-unconsciously, he has received its influence for all time.
-
-To me the idea of pointing out the moral of the story has always seemed
-as futile as tying a flower on to a stalk instead of letting the flower
-_grow out_ of the stalk, as Nature intended. In the first case, the
-flower, showy and bright for the moment, soon fades away. In the second
-instance, it develops slowly, coming to perfection in fulness of time
-because of the life within.
-
-X.--Lastly, the element to avoid is _that which rouses emotions which
-cannot be translated into action_.
-
-Mr. Earl Barnes, to whom all teachers owe a debt of gratitude for the
-inspiration of his education views, insists strongly on this point.
-The sole effect of such stories is to produce a form of hysteria,
-fortunately short-lived, but a waste of force which might be directed
-into a better channel.[23] Such stories are so easy to recognise that
-it would be useless to make a formal list, but I shall make further
-allusion to this in dealing with stories from the lives of the saints.
-
-These, then, are the main elements to avoid in the selection of
-material suitable for normal children. Much might be added in the way
-of detail, and the special tendency of the day may make it necessary to
-avoid one class of story more than another; but this care belongs to
-another generation of teachers and parents.
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[18] Such works as “Ministering Children,” “The Wide, Wide World,”
-“The Fairchild Family,” are instances of the kind of story I mean, as
-containing too much analysis of emotion.
-
-[19] One child's favourite book bore the exciting title of “Birth, Life
-and Death of Crazy Jane.”
-
-[20] This does not imply that the child would not appreciate in the
-right context the thrilling and romantic story in connection with the
-finding of the Elgin marbles.
-
-[21] One is almost inclined to prefer Marjorie Fleming's little
-innocent oaths. “But she was more than usual calm. She did not give a
-single dam.”
-
-[22] From “Literary Values.”
-
-[23] A story is told of Confucius, that having attended a funeral he
-presented his horse to the chief mourner. When asked why he bestowed
-this gift, he replied: “I wept with the man, so I feel I ought to _do_
-something for him.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V.
-
-ELEMENTS TO SEEK IN CHOICE OF MATERIAL.
-
-
-IN “The Choice of Books” Frederic Harrison has said: “The most useful
-help to reading is to know what we shall _not_ read, ... what we
-shall keep from that small cleared spot in the overgrown jungle of
-information which we can call our ordered patch of fruit-bearing
-knowledge.”[24]
-
-Now, the same statement applies to our stories, and, having busied
-myself, during the last chapter, with “clearing my small spot” by
-cutting away a mass of unfruitful growth, I am now going to suggest
-what would be the best kind of seed to sow in the patch which I have
-“reclaimed from the Jungle.”
-
-Again I repeat that I have no wish to be dogmatic, and that in offering
-suggestions as to the stories to be told, I am only catering for a
-group of normal school-children. My list of subjects does not pretend
-to cover the whole ground of children's needs, and just as I exclude
-the abnormal or unusual child from the scope of my warning in subjects
-to avoid, so do I also exclude that child from the limitation in choice
-of subjects to be sought, because you can offer almost any subject to
-the unusual child, especially if you stand in close relation to him and
-know his powers of apprehension. In this matter, _age_ has very little
-to say: it is a question of the stage of development.
-
-Experience has taught me that for the group of normal children, almost
-irrespective of age, the first kind of story suitable will contain an
-appeal to conditions to which they are accustomed. The reason of this
-is obvious: the child, having limited experience, can only be reached
-by this experience, until his imagination is awakened and he is enabled
-to grasp through this faculty what he has not actually passed through.
-Before this awakening has taken place he enters the realm of fiction
-(represented in the story) by comparison with his personal experience.
-Every story and every point in the story mean more as that experience
-widens, and the interest varies, of course, with temperament, quickness
-of perception, power of visualising and of concentration.
-
-In “The Marsh King's Daughter,” H. C. Andersen says:
-
-“The Storks have a great many stories which they tell their little
-ones, all about the bogs and marshes. They suit them to their age and
-capacity. The young ones are quite satisfied with Kribble, Krabble,
-or some such nonsense, and find it charming; but the elder ones want
-something with more meaning.”
-
-One of the most interesting experiments to be made in connection with
-this subject is to tell the same story at intervals of a year or six
-months to some individual child.[25] The different incidents in the
-story which appeal to it (and you must watch it closely, to be sure the
-interest is real, and not artificially stimulated by any suggestion on
-your part) will mark its mental development and the gradual awakening
-of its imagination. This experiment is a very delicate one, and will
-not be infallible, because children are secretive and the appreciation
-is often (unconsciously) simulated, or concealed through shyness or
-want of articulation. But it is, in spite of this, a deeply interesting
-and helpful experiment.
-
-To take a concrete example: let us suppose the story of Andersen's Tin
-Soldier told to a child of five or six years. At the first recital, the
-point which will interest the child most will be the setting up of the
-tin soldiers on the table, because he can understand this by means of
-his own experience, in his own nursery: it is an appeal to conditions
-to which he is accustomed and for which no exercise of the imagination
-is needed, unless we take the effect of memory to be, according to
-Queyrat, retrospective imagination.
-
-The next incident that appeals is the unfamiliar behaviour of the toys,
-but still in familiar surroundings; that is to say, the _unusual_
-activities are carried on in the safe precincts of the nursery--in the
-_usual_ atmosphere of the child.
-
-I quote from the text:
-
-“Late in the evening the other soldiers were put in their box, and the
-people of the house went to bed. Now was the time for the toys to play;
-they amused themselves with paying visits, fighting battles and giving
-balls. The tin soldiers rustled about in their box, for they wanted to
-join the games, but they could not get the lid off. The nut-crackers
-turned somersaults, and the pencil scribbled nonsense on the slate.”
-
-Now, from this point onwards in the story, the events will be quite
-outside the personal experience of the child, and there will have
-to be a real stretch of imagination to appreciate the thrilling and
-blood-curdling adventures of the little tin soldier, namely, the
-terrible sailing down the gutter under the bridge, the meeting with
-the fierce rat who demands the soldier's passport, the horrible
-sensation in the fish's body, etc. Last of all, perhaps, will come
-the appreciation of the best qualities of the hero: his modesty, his
-dignity, his reticence, his courage and his constancy: he seems to
-combine all the qualities of the best soldier with those of the best
-civilian, without the more obvious qualities which generally attract
-first. As for the love-story, we must not _expect_ any child to see
-its tenderness and beauty, though the individual child may intuitively
-appreciate these qualities, but it is not what we wish for or work for
-at this period of child-life.
-
-This method could be applied to various stories. I have chosen the _Tin
-Soldier_ because of its dramatic qualities and because it is marked off
-(probably quite unconsciously on the part of Andersen) into periods
-which correspond to the child's development.
-
-In Eugene Field's exquisite little poem of “The Dinkey Bird” we find
-the objects familiar to the child in _unusual_ places, so that some
-imagination is needed to realise that “big red sugar-plums are clinging
-to the cliffs beside that sea”; but the introduction of the fantastic
-bird and the soothing sound of the Amfalula Tree are new and delightful
-sensations, quite out of the child's personal experience.
-
-Another such instance is to be found in Mrs. W. K. Clifford's story of
-Master Willie. The abnormal behaviour of familiar objects, such as a
-doll, leads from the ordinary routine to the paths of adventure. This
-story is to be found in a little book called “Very Short Stories,” a
-most interesting collection for teachers and children.
-
-We now come to the second element we should seek in material--namely,
-the element of the unusual, which we have already anticipated in the
-story of the Tin Soldier.
-
-This element is necessary in response to the demand of the child who
-expressed the needs of his fellow-playmates when he said: “I want to go
-to the place where the shadows are real.” This is the true definition
-of “Faerie” lands, and is the first sign of real mental development
-in the child when he is no longer content with the stories of his own
-little deeds and experiences, when his ear begins to appreciate sounds
-different from the words in his own everyday language, and when he
-begins to separate his own personality from the action of the story.
-
-George Goschen says[26]:
-
-“What I want for the young are books and stories which do not simply
-deal with our daily life. I like the fancy (even) of little children
-to have some larger food than images of their own little lives, and
-I confess I am sorry for the children whose imaginations are not
-sometimes stimulated by beautiful Fairy Tales which carry them to
-worlds different from those in which their future will be passed....
-I hold that what removes them more or less from their daily life is
-better than what reminds them of it at every step.”
-
-It is because of the great value of leading children to something
-beyond the limited circle of their own lives that I deplore the
-twaddling boarding-school stories written for girls and the
-artificially-prepared Public School stories for boys. Why not give them
-the dramatic interest of a larger stage? No account of a cricket match,
-or a football triumph, could present a finer appeal to boys and girls
-than the description of the Peacestead in the “Heroes of Asgaard”:
-
-“This was the playground of the Æsir, where they practised trials of
-skill one with another and held tournaments and sham fights. These last
-were always conducted in the gentlest and most honourable manner; for
-the strongest law of the Peacestead was, that no angry blow should be
-struck, or spiteful word spoken upon the sacred field.”
-
-For my part, I would unhesitatingly give to boys and girls an element
-of strong romance in the stories which are told them even before they
-are twelve. Miss Sewell says:
-
-“The system that keeps girls in the schoolroom reading simple stories,
-without reading Scott and Shakespeare and Spenser, and then hands them
-over to the unexplored recesses of the Circulating Library, has been
-shown to be the most frivolizing that can be devised.” She sets forward
-the result of her experience that a good novel, especially a romantic
-one, read at twelve or fourteen, is really a beneficial thing.
-
-At present many of the children from the elementary schools get their
-first idea of love (if one can give it such a name) from vulgar
-pictures displayed in the shop windows, or jokes on marriage culled
-from the lowest type of paper, or the proceedings of a divorce-court.
-
-What an antidote to such representation might be found in the story of
-
- Hector and Andromache,
- Siegfreid and Brunhild,
- Dido and Æneas,
- Orpheus and Eurydice,
- St. Francis and St. Clare.
-
-One of the strongest elements we should introduce into our stories for
-children of all ages is that which calls forth love of beauty. And the
-beauty should stand out, not necessarily only in delineation of noble
-qualities in our heroes and heroines, but in beauty and strength of
-language and form.
-
-In this latter respect the Bible stories are of such inestimable
-value--all the greater because a child is familiar with the subject,
-and the stories gain fresh significance from the spoken or winged word
-as compared with the mere reading. Whether we should keep to the actual
-text is a matter of individual experience. Professor R. G. Moulton,
-whose interpretations of the Bible Stories are so well known both in
-England and the States, does not always confine himself to the actual
-text, but draws the dramatic elements together, rejecting what seems to
-him to break the narrative, but introducing the actual language where
-it is the most effective. Those who have heard him will realise the
-success of his method.
-
-There is one Bible story which can be told with scarcely any deviation,
-and that is the story of Nebuchadnezzar and the Golden Image. Thus, I
-think it wise, if the children are to succeed in partially visualizing
-the story, that they should have some idea of the dimensions of the
-Golden Image as it would stand out in a vast plain. It might be well
-to compare those dimensions with some building with which the child is
-familiar. In London the matter is easy, as the height will compare,
-roughly speaking, with that of Westminster Abbey. The only change in
-the text I should adopt is to avoid the constant enumeration of the
-list of rulers and the musical instruments. In doing this, I am aware
-that I am sacrificing something of beauty in the rhythm,--on the other
-hand, for narrative purpose, the interest is not broken. The first time
-the announcement is made, that is, by the Herald, it should be in a
-perfectly loud, clear and toneless voice, such as you would naturally
-use when shouting through a trumpet to a vast concourse of people
-scattered over a wide plain; reserving all the dramatic tone of voice
-for the passage where Nebuchadnezzar is making the announcement to the
-three men by themselves. I can remember Professor Moulton saying that
-all the dramatic interest of the story is summed up in the words “But
-if Not....” This suggestion is a very helpful one, for it enables us to
-work up gradually to this point, and then, as it were, _unwind_, until
-we reach the words of Nebuchadnezzar's dramatic recantation.
-
-In this connection, it is a good plan occasionally during the story
-hour to introduce really good poetry which, delivered in a dramatic
-manner (far removed, of course, from the melodramatic), might give
-children their first love of beautiful form in verse. And I do not
-think it necessary to wait for this. Even the normal child of seven
-(though there is nothing arbitrary in the suggestion of this age) will
-appreciate the effect--if only on the ear--of beautiful lines well
-spoken. Mahomet has said, in his teaching advice: “Teach your children
-poetry: it opens the mind, lends grace to wisdom and makes heroic
-virtues hereditary.”
-
-To begin with the youngest children of all, here is a poem which
-contains a thread of story, just enough to give a human interest:
-
-MILKING-TIME.
-
- When the cows come home, the milk is coming,
- Honey's made when the bees are humming.
- Duck, Drake on the rushy lake,
- And the deer live safe in the breezy brake,
- And timid, funny, pert little bunny
- Winks his nose, and sits all sunny.
- _Christina Rossetti._
-
-Now, in comparing this poem with some of the doggerel verse offered
-to small children, one is struck with the literary superiority in the
-choice of words. Here, in spite of the simplicity of the poem, there
-is not the ordinary limited vocabulary, nor the forced rhyme, nor the
-application of a moral, by which the artist falls from grace.
-
-Again, in Eugene Field's “Hushaby Lady,” the language of which is most
-simple, the child is carried away by the beauty of the sound.
-
-I remember hearing some poetry repeated by the children in one of
-the elementary schools in Sheffield which made me feel that they had
-realised romantic possibilities which would prevent their lives from
-ever becoming quite prosaic again, and I wish that this practice
-were more usual. There is little difficulty with the children. I can
-remember, in my own experience as a teacher in London, making the
-experiment of reading or repeating passages from Milton and Shakespeare
-to children from nine to eleven years of age, and the enthusiastic
-way they responded by learning those passages by heart. I have taken,
-with several sets of children, such passages from Milton as “Echo
-Song,” “Sabrina,” “By the rushy fringed Bank,” “Back, shepherds, back,”
-from _Comus_, “May Morning,” “Ode to Shakespeare,” “Samson on his
-blindness,” etc. I even ventured on several passages from _Paradise
-Lost_, and found “Now came still evening on” a particular favourite
-with the children.
-
-It seemed even easier to interest them in Shakespeare, and they learned
-quite readily and easily many passages from “As You Like It,” “Merchant
-of Venice,” “Julius Cæsar”; from “Richard II,” “Henry IV,” and “Henry
-V.”
-
-The method I should recommend in the introduction of both poets
-occasionally into the Story-hour would be threefold.
-
-First, to choose passages which appeal for beauty of sound or beauty
-of mental vision called up by those sounds: such as, “Tell me where is
-Fancy bred,” Titania's Lullaby, “How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon
-this bank.”
-
-Secondly, passages for sheer interest of content, such as the Trial
-Scene from “The Merchant of Venice,” or the Forest Scene in “As You
-Like It.”
-
-Thirdly, for dramatic and historical interest, such as, “Men at some
-time are masters of their fates,” the whole of Mark Antony's speech,
-and the scene with Imogen and her foster-brothers in the Forest.
-
-It may not be wholly out of place to add here that the children learned
-and repeated these passages themselves, and that I offered them the
-same advice as I do to all Story-tellers. I discussed quite openly
-with them the method I considered best, trying to make them see that
-simplicity of delivery was not only the most beautiful but the most
-effective means to use; and, by the end of a few months, when they
-had been allowed to experiment and express themselves, they began
-to see that mere ranting was not force, and that a sense of reserve
-power is infinitely more impressive and inspiring than mere external
-presentation.
-
-I encouraged them to criticise each other for the common good, and
-sometimes I read a few lines with over-emphasis and too much gesture,
-which they were at liberty to point out, so that they might avoid the
-same error.
-
-A very good collection of poems for this purpose of narrative is to be
-found in:
-
- Mrs. P. A. Barnett's series of _Song and Story_,
- Published by A. and C. Black.
-
-And for older children:
-
- _The Call of the Homeland_, Anthology.
- Edited by Dr. Scott and Miss Katharine Wallas, Published by
- Blackie and Son.
-
-Also in a collection published (I believe) in Boston by Miss Agnes
-Repplier.
-
- _Golden Numbers_.
- (K. D. Wiggin and N. A. Smith).
-
-It will be realised from the scanty number of examples offered in
-this section that it is only a side issue, a mere suggestion of an
-occasional alternative for the Story-hour, as likely to develop the
-imagination.
-
-I think it is well to have a good number of stories illustrating the
-importance of common sense and resourcefulness. For this reason I
-consider that stories treating of the ultimate success of the youngest
-son are very admirable for the purpose, because the youngest child,
-who begins by being considered inferior to the elder ones, triumphs in
-the end, either from resourcefulness, or from common sense, or from
-some high quality, such as kindness to animals, courage in overcoming
-difficulties, etc.[27]
-
-Thus we have the story of Cinderella. The cynic might imagine that it
-was the diminutive size of her foot that ensured her success: the child
-does not realise any advantage in this, but, though the matter need not
-be pressed, the story leaves us with the impression that Cinderella had
-been patient and industrious, forbearing with her sisters. We know that
-she was strictly obedient to her godmother, and in order to be this
-she makes her dramatic exit from the ball which is the beginning of
-her triumph. There are many who might say that these qualities do not
-meet with reward in life and that they end in establishing a habit of
-drudgery, but, after all, we must have poetic justice in a Fairy Story,
-occasionally, at any rate.
-
-Another such story is “Jesper and the Hares.” Here, however, it is
-not at first resourcefulness that helps the hero, but sheer kindness
-of heart, which prompts him first to help the ants, and then to
-show civility to the old woman, without for a moment expecting any
-material benefit from such actions. At the end, he does win by his own
-ingenuity and resourcefulness, and if we regret that his _trickery_
-has such wonderful results, we must remember that the aim was to win
-the princess for herself, and that there was little choice left him. I
-consider the end of this story to be one of the most remarkable I have
-found in my long years of browsing among Fairy Tales. I should suggest
-stopping at the words: “The Tub is full,” as any addition seems to
-destroy the subtlety of the story.[28]
-
-Another story of this kind, admirable for children from six years and
-upwards, is “What the Old Man does is always Right.” Here, perhaps,
-the entire lack of common sense on the part of the hero would serve
-rather as a warning than a stimulating example, but the conduct of
-the wife in excusing the errors of her foolish husband is a model of
-resourcefulness.
-
-In the story of “Hereafter--this”[29] we have just the converse: a
-perfectly foolish wife shielded by a most patient and forbearing
-husband, whose tolerance and common sense save the situation.
-
-One of the most important elements to seek in our choice of stories is
-that which tends to develop, eventually, a fine sense of humour in a
-child. I purposely use the word “eventually,” because I realise first
-that humour has various stages, and that seldom, if ever, can you
-expect an appreciation of fine humour from a normal child, that is,
-from an elemental mind. It seems as if the rough-and-tumble element
-were almost a necessary stage through which children must pass--a
-stage, moreover, which is normal and healthy; but up to now we have
-quite unnecessarily extended the period of elephantine fun, and though
-we cannot control the manner in which children are catered for along
-this line in their homes, we can restrict the folly of appealing too
-strongly or too long to this elemental faculty in our schools. Of
-course, the temptation is strong, because the appeal is so easy. But
-there is a tacit recognition that horse-play and practical jokes are
-no longer considered an essential part of a child's education. We note
-this in the changed attitude in the schools, taken by more advanced
-educationists, towards bullying, fagging, hazing, etc. As a reaction,
-then, from more obvious fun, there should be a certain number of
-stories which make appeal to a more subtle element, and in the chapter
-on the questions put to me by teachers on various occasions, I speak
-more in detail about the educational value of a finer humour in our
-stories.
-
-At some period there ought to be presented in our stories the
-superstitions connected with the primitive history of the race, dealing
-with the Fairy (proper), giants, dwarfs, gnomes, nixies, brownies
-and other elemental beings. Andrew Lang says: “Without our savage
-ancestors we should have had no poetry. Conceive the human race born
-into the world in its present advanced condition, weighing, analysing,
-examining everything. Such a race would have been destitute of poetry
-and flattened by common sense. Barbarians did the _dreaming_ of the
-world.”
-
-But it is a question of much debate among educationists what should
-be the period of the child's life in which these stories are to be
-presented. I myself was formerly of opinion that they belonged to
-the very primitive age of the individual, just as they belong to the
-primitive age of the race, but experience in telling stories has taught
-me to compromise.
-
-Some people maintain that little children, who take things with brutal
-logic, ought not to be allowed the Fairy Tale in its more limited
-form of the Supernatural; whereas, if presented to older children,
-this material can be criticised, catalogued and (alas!) rejected as
-worthless, or retained with flippant toleration.
-
-Now, whilst recognising a certain value in this point of view, I am
-bound to admit that if we regulate our stories entirely on this basis,
-we lose the real value of the Fairy Tale element--it is the one element
-which causes little children to _wonder_, simply because no scientific
-analysis of the story can be presented to them. It is somewhat
-heartrending to feel that Jack and the Bean-Stalk and stories of that
-ilk are to be handed over to the critical youth who will condemn the
-quick growth of the tree as being contrary to the order of nature, and
-wonder why Jack was not playing football in the school team instead of
-climbing trees in search of imaginary adventures.
-
-A wonderful plea for the telling of early superstitions to children is
-to be found in an old Indian Allegory called “The Blazing Mansion.”
-
- “An old man owned a large, rambling mansion--the pillars
- were rotten, the galleries tumbling down, the thatch dry and
- combustible, and there was only one door. Suddenly, one day, there
- was a smell of fire: the old man rushed out. To his horror he
- saw that the thatch was aflame, the rotten pillars were catching
- fire one by one, and the rafters were burning like tinder. But
- inside, the children went on amusing themselves quite happily. The
- distracted father said: ‘I will run in and save my children. I will
- seize them in my strong arms, I will bear them harmless through the
- falling rafters and the blazing beams.’ Then the sad thought came
- to him that the children were romping and ignorant. ‘If I say the
- house is on fire, they will not understand me. If I try to seize
- them, they will romp about and try to escape. Alas! not a moment to
- be lost!’ Suddenly a bright thought flashed across the old man's
- mind. ‘My children are ignorant,’ he said; ‘they love toys and
- glittering playthings. I will promise them playthings of unheard-of
- beauty. Then they will listen.’
-
- So the old man shouted: ‘Children, come out of the house and see
- these beautiful toys! Chariots with white oxen, all gold and
- tinsel. See these exquisite little antelopes. Whoever saw such
- goats as these? Children, children, come quickly, or they will all
- be gone!’
-
- Forth from the blazing ruin the children came in hot haste. The
- word ‘plaything’ was almost the only word they could understand.
-
- Then the Father, rejoiced that his offspring was freed from peril,
- procured for them one of the most beautiful chariots ever seen:
- the chariot had a canopy like a pagoda: it had tiny rails and
- balustrades and rows of jingling bells. Milk-white oxen drew the
- chariot. The children were astonished when they were placed inside.”
- (_From the “Thabagata.”_)
-
-Perhaps, as a compromise, one might give the gentler superstitions to
-very small children, and leave such a blood-curdling story as Bluebeard
-to a more robust age.
-
-There is one modern method which has always seemed to me much to be
-condemned, and that is the habit of changing the end of a story, for
-fear of alarming the child. This is quite indefensible. In doing this
-we are tampering with folk-lore and confusing stages of development.
-
-Now, I know that there are individual children that, at a tender
-age, might be alarmed at such a story, for instance, as Little Red
-Riding-Hood; in which case, it is better to sacrifice the “wonder
-stage” and present the story later on.
-
-I live in dread of finding one day a bowdlerized form of “Bluebeard”
-(prepared for a junior standard), in which, to produce a satisfactory
-finale, all the wives come to life again, and “live happily for ever
-after” with Bluebeard and each other!
-
-And from this point it seems an easy transition to the subject of
-legends of different kinds. Some of the old country legends in
-connection with flowers are very charming for children, and as long as
-we do not tread on the sacred ground of the Nature Students, we may
-indulge in a moderate use of such stories, of which a few will be found
-in the Story Lists.
-
-With regard to the introduction of legends connected with saints into
-the school curriculum, my chief plea is the element of the unusual
-which they contain, and an appeal to a sense of mysticism and wonder
-which is a wise antidote to the prosaic and commercial tendencies of
-to-day. Though many of the actions of the saints may be the result of
-a morbid strain of self-sacrifice, at least none of them were engaged
-in the sole occupation of becoming rich: their ideals were often lofty
-and unselfish; their courage high, and their deeds noble. We must be
-careful, in the choice of our legends, to show up the virile qualities
-rather than to dwell on the elements of horror in details of martyrdom,
-or on the too-constantly recurring miracles, lest we should defeat our
-own ends. For the children might think lightly of the dangers to which
-the saints were exposed if they find them too often preserved at the
-last moment from the punishment they were brave enough to undergo. For
-one or other of these reasons, I should avoid the detailed history of
-St. Juliana, St. Vincent, St. Quintin, St. Eustace, St. Winifred, St.
-Theodore, St. James the More, St. Katharine, St. Cuthbert, St. Alphage,
-St. Peter of Milan, St. Quirine and Juliet, St. Alban and others.
-
-The danger of telling children stories connected with sudden
-conversions is that they are apt to place too much emphasis on the
-process, rather than the goal to be reached. We should always insist on
-the splendid deeds performed after a real conversion--not the details
-of the conversion itself; as, for instance, the beautiful and poetical
-work done by St. Christopher when he realised what work he could do
-most effectively.
-
-On the other hand, there are many stories of the saints dealing with
-actions and motives which would appeal to the imagination and are not
-only worthy of imitation, but are not wholly outside the life and
-experience even of the child.[30]
-
-Having protested against the elephantine joke and the too-frequent
-use of exaggerated fun, I now endeavour to restore the balance by
-suggesting the introduction into the school curriculum of a few purely
-grotesque stories which serve as an antidote to sentimentality or
-utilitarianism. But they must be presented as nonsense, so that the
-children may use them for what they are intended, as pure relaxation.
-Such a story is that of “The Wolf and the Kids.” I have had serious
-objections offered to this story by several educational people, because
-of the revenge taken by the goat on the wolf, but I am inclined to
-think that if the story is to be taken as anything but sheer nonsense,
-it is surely sentimental to extend our sympathy towards a caller who
-has devoured six of his hostess' children. With regard to the wolf
-being cut open, there is not the slightest need to accentuate the
-physical side. Children accept the deed as they accept the cutting
-off of a giant's head, because they do not associate it with pain,
-especially if the deed is presented half-humorously. The moment in the
-story where their sympathy is aroused is the swallowing of the kids,
-because the children do realise the possibility of being disposed of
-in the mother's absence. (Needless to say, I never point out the moral
-of the kids' disobedience to the mother in opening the door.) I have
-always noticed a moment of breathlessness even in a grown-up audience
-when the wolf swallows the kids, and that the recovery of them “all
-safe and sound, all huddled together” is quite as much appreciated by
-the adult audience as by the children, and is worth the tremor caused
-by the wolf's summary action.
-
-I have not always been able to impress upon the teachers that this
-story _must_ be taken lightly. A very earnest young student came to
-me once after I had told it, and said in an awestruck voice: “Do you
-Correlate?” Having recovered from the effect of this word, which she
-carefully explained, I said that as a rule I preferred to keep the
-story apart from the other lessons, just an undivided whole, because
-it had effects of its own which were best brought about by not being
-connected with other lessons.[31] She frowned her disapproval and said:
-“I am sorry, because I thought I would take The Goat for my Nature
-Study lesson, and then tell your story at the end.” I thought of the
-terrible struggle in the child's mind between his conscientious wish to
-be accurate and his dramatic enjoyment of the abnormal habits of a goat
-who went out with scissors, needle and thread; but I have been most
-careful since to repudiate any connection with Nature Study in this and
-a few other stories in my répertoire.
-
-One might occasionally introduce one of Edward Lear's “Book of
-Nonsense.” For instance:
-
- There was an Old Man of Cape Horn,
- Who wished he had never been born;
- So he sat in a chair till he died of despair,
- That dolorous Man of Cape Horn.
-
-Now, except in case of very young children, this could not possibly be
-taken seriously. The least observant normal boy or girl would recognise
-the hollowness of the pessimism that prevents a man from at least an
-attempt to rise from his chair.
-
-The following I have chosen as repeated with intense appreciation and
-much dramatic vigour by a little boy just five years old:
-
- There was an Old Man who said, “Hush!
- I perceive a young bird in this bush!”
- When they said, “Is it small?” he replied, “Not at all!
- It is four times as big as the bush!”[32]
-
-One of the most desirable of all elements to introduce into our stories
-is that which encourages kinship with animals. With very young children
-this is easy, because in those early years when the mind is not clogged
-with knowledge, the sympathetic imagination enables them to enter into
-the feelings of animals. Andersen has an illustration of this point in
-his “Ice Maiden”:
-
-“Children who cannot talk yet can understand the language of fowls and
-ducks quite well, and cats and dogs speak to them quite as plainly as
-Father and Mother; but that is only when the children are very small,
-and then even Grandpapa's stick will become a perfect horse to them
-that can neigh and, in their eyes, is furnished with legs and a tail.
-With some children this period ends later than with others, and of such
-we are accustomed to say that they are very backward, and that they
-have remained children for a long time. People are in the habit of
-saying strange things.”
-
-Felix Adler says: “Perhaps the chief attraction of Fairy Tales is due
-to their representing the child as living in brotherly friendship with
-nature and all creatures. Trees, flowers, animals, wild and tame, even
-the stars are represented as comrades of children. That animals are
-only human beings in disguise is an axiom in the Fairy Tales. Animals
-are humanised, that is, the kinship between animal and human life
-is still keenly felt; and this reminds us of those early animistic
-interpretations of nature which subsequently led to doctrines of
-metempsychosis.”[33]
-
-I think that beyond question the finest animal stories are to be found
-in the Indian Collections, of which I furnish a list in the Appendix.
-
-With regard to the development of the love of nature through the
-telling of the stories, we are confronted with a great difficult in the
-elementary schools, because so many of the children have never been out
-of the towns, have never seen a daisy, a blade of grass and scarcely a
-tree, so that in giving, in form of a story, a beautiful description
-of scenery, you can make no appeal to the retrospective imagination,
-and only the rarely gifted child will be able to make pictures whilst
-listening to a style which is beyond his everyday use. Nevertheless,
-once in a way, when the children are in a quiet mood, not eager for
-action but able to give themselves up to the pure joy of sound, then
-it is possible to give them a beautiful piece of writing in praise of
-Nature, such as the following, taken from _The Divine Adventure_, by
-Fiona Macleod:
-
-“Then he remembered the ancient wisdom of the Gael and came out of the
-Forest Chapel and went into the woods. He put his lip to the earth,
-and lifted a green leaf to his brow, and held a branch to his ear,
-and because he was no longer heavy with the sweet clay of mortality,
-though yet of human clan he heard that which we do not hear, and saw
-that which we do not see, and knew that which we do not know. All the
-green life was his. In that new world, he saw the lives of trees, now
-pale green, now of woodsmoke blue, now of amethyst; the gray lives of
-stone; breaths of the grass and reed, creatures of the air, delicate
-and wild as fawns, or swift and fierce and terrible, tigers, of that
-undiscovered wilderness, with birds almost invisible but for their
-luminous wings, and opalescent crests.”
-
-The value of this particular passage is the mystery pervading the whole
-picture, which forms so beautiful an antidote to the eternal explaining
-of things. I think it of the highest importance for children to realise
-that the best and most beautiful things cannot be expressed in everyday
-language and that they must content themselves with a flash here and
-there of the beauty which may come later. One does not enhance the
-beauty of the mountain by pulling to pieces some of the earthy clogs:
-one does not increase the impression of a vast ocean by analysing the
-single drops of water. But at a reverent distance one gets a clear
-impression of the whole, and can afford to leave the details in the
-shadow.
-
-In presenting such passages (and it must be done very sparingly)
-experience has taught me that we should take the children into our
-confidence by telling them frankly that nothing exciting is going
-to happen, so that they will be free to listen to the mere words. A
-very interesting experiment might occasionally be made by asking the
-children some weeks afterwards to tell you in their own words what
-pictures were made on their minds. This is a very different thing from
-allowing the children to reproduce the passage at once, the danger of
-which proceeding I speak of later in detail. (See Chapter on Questions.)
-
-We now come to the question as to what proportion of _Dramatic
-Excitement_ we should present in the stories for a normal group of
-children. Personally, I should like, while the child is very young
-(I mean in mind, not in years) to exclude the element of dramatic
-excitement, but though this may be possible for the individual child,
-it is quite Utopian to hope we can keep the average child free from
-what is in the atmosphere. Children crave for excitement, and unless we
-give it to them in legitimate form, they will take it in any riotous
-form it presents itself, and if from our experience we can control
-their mental digestion by a moderate supply of what they demand, we
-may save them from devouring too eagerly the raw material they can so
-easily find for themselves.
-
-There is a humorous passage bearing on this question in the story of
-the small Scotch boy, when he asks leave of his parents to present the
-pious little book--a gift to himself from his Aunt--to a little sick
-friend, hoping probably that the friend's chastened condition will make
-him more lenient towards this mawkish form of literature. The parents
-expostulate, pointing out to their son how ungrateful he is, and how
-ungracious it would be to part with his Aunt's gift. Then the boy can
-contain himself no longer. He bursts out, unconsciously expressing the
-normal attitude of children at a certain stage of development: “It's
-a _daft_ book ony way; there's naebody gets kilt en't. I like stories
-about folk getting their heids cut off, or stabbit through and through,
-wi' swords an' spears. An' there's nae wile beasts. I like Stories
-about black men gettin' ate up, an' white men killin' lions and tigers
-an' bears an'----”
-
-Then, again, we have the passage from George Eliot's “Mill on the
-Floss”:
-
-“Oh, dear! I wish they would not fight at your school, Tom. Didn't it
-hurt you?”
-
-“Hurt me? No,” said Tom, putting up the hooks again, taking out a large
-pocket-knife, and slowly opening the largest blade, which he looked at
-meditatively as he rubbed his finger along it. Then he added:
-
-“I gave Spooner a black eye--that's what he got for wanting to leather
-me. I wasn't going to go halves because anybody leathered me.”
-
-“Oh! how brave you are, Tom. I think you are like Samson. If there came
-a lion roaring at me, I think you'd fight him, wouldn't you, Tom?”
-
-“How can a lion come roaring at you, you silly thing? There's no lions
-only in the shows.”
-
-“No, but if we were in the lion countries--I mean in Africa where it's
-very hot, the lions eat people there. I can show it you in the book
-where I read it.”
-
-“Well, I should get a gun and shoot him.”
-
-“But if you hadn't got a gun?--we might have gone out, you know, not
-thinking, just as we go out fishing, and then a great lion might come
-towards us roaring, and we could not get away from him. What should you
-do, Tom?”
-
-Tom paused, and at last turned away contemptuously, saying: “But the
-lion _isn't_ coming. What's the use of talking?”
-
-This passage illustrates also the difference between the
-highly-developed imagination of the one and the stodgy prosaical
-temperament of the other. Tom could enter into the elementary question
-of giving his school-fellow a black eye, but could not possibly enter
-into the drama of the imaginary arrival of a lion. He was sorely in
-need of Fairy Stories.
-
-It is for this element we have to cater, and we cannot shirk our
-responsibilities.
-
-William James says: “Living things, moving things or things that
-savour of danger or blood, that have a dramatic quality, these are
-the things natively interesting to childhood, to the exclusion of
-almost everything else, and the teacher of young children (until more
-artificial interests have grown up) will keep in touch with his pupils
-by constant appeal to such matters as those.”[34]
-
-Of course the savour of danger and blood is only _one_ of the things to
-which we should appeal, but I give the whole passage to make the point
-clearer.
-
-This is one of the most difficult parts of our selection, namely, how
-to present enough excitement for the child and yet include enough
-constructive element which will satisfy him when the thirst for
-“blugginess” is slaked.
-
-And here I should like to say that, whilst wishing to encourage in
-children great admiration and reverence for the courage and other fine
-qualities which have been displayed in times of war, and which have
-mitigated its horrors, I think we should show that some of the finest
-moments in these heroes' lives had nothing to do with their profession
-as soldiers. Thus we have the well-known story of Sir Philip Sidney and
-the soldier; the wonderful scene where Roland drags the bodies of his
-dead friends to receive the blessing of the archbishop after the battle
-of Roncevalles[35]; and of Napoleon sending the sailor back to England.
-There is a moment in the story of Gunnar when he pauses in the midst of
-the slaughter of his enemies, and says, “I wonder if I am less brave
-than others, because I kill men less willingly than they.”
-
-And in the “Njal's Burning” from Andrew Lang's “Book of Romance” we
-have the words of the boy Thord when his grandmother, Bergthora, urges
-him to go out of the burning house.
-
-“You promised me when I was little, grandmother, that I never should go
-from you till I wished it of myself. And I would rather die with you
-than live after you.”
-
-Here the moral courage is so splendidly shown; none of these heroes
-feared to die in battle or in open single fight, but to face a death by
-fire for higher considerations is a point of view worth presenting to
-the child.
-
-In spite of all the dramatic excitement roused by the conduct of our
-soldiers and sailors,[36] should we not try to offer also in our
-stories the romance and excitement of saving as well as _taking_ life?
-
-I would have quite a collection dealing with the thrilling adventures
-of the Life-Boat and the Fire Brigade, of which I hope to present
-examples in the final Story List.
-
-Finally, we ought to include a certain number of stories dealing with
-Death, especially with children who are of an age to realise that it
-must come to all, and that this is not a calamity but a perfectly
-natural and simple thing. At present the child in the street invariably
-connects death with sordid accidents. I think they should have stories
-of Death coming in heroic form, as when a man or woman dies for a great
-cause, in which he has opportunity of admiring courage, devotion and
-unselfishness; or of Death coming as a result of treachery, such as
-we find in the death of Baldur, of Siegfried, and of others, so that
-children may learn to abhor such deeds; but also a fair proportion of
-stories dealing with death that comes naturally, when our work is done
-and our strength gone, which has no more tragedy than the falling of
-a leaf from the tree. In this way we can give children the first idea
-that the individual is so much less than the whole.
-
-Quite small children often take Death very naturally. A boy of five
-met two of his older companions at the school door. They said sadly
-and solemnly: “We have just seen a dead man!” “Well,” said the little
-philosopher, “that's all right. We've _all_ got to die when our work's
-done.”
-
-In one of the Buddha stories which I reproduce at the end of this book,
-the little Hare (who is, I think, a symbol of nervous Individualism)
-constantly says: “Suppose the Earth were to fall in, what would become
-of me?”
-
-As an antidote to the ordinary attitude towards death, I commend an
-episode from a German folk-lore story called “Unlucky John,” which is
-included in the list of stories recommended at the end of this book.
-
-The following sums up in poetic form some of the material necessary for
-the wants of a child:
-
-
-THE CHILD.
-
- The little new soul has come to Earth,
- He has taken his staff for the Pilgrim's way.
- His sandals are girt on his tender feet,
- And he carries his scrip for what gifts he may.
-
- What will you give to him, Fate Divine?
- What for his scrip on the winding road?
- A crown for his head, or a laurel wreath?
- A sword to wield, or is gold his load?
-
- What will you give him for weal or woe?
- What for the journey through day and night?
- Give or withhold from him power and fame,
- But give to him love of the earth's delight.
-
- Let him be lover of wind and sun
- And of falling rain; and the friend of trees;
- With a singing heart for the pride of noon,
- And a tender heart for what twilight sees.
-
- Let him be lover of you and yours--
- The Child and Mary; but also Pan,
- And the sylvan gods of the woods and hills,
- And the god that is hid in his fellow-man.
-
- Love and a song and the joy of earth,
- These be the gifts for his scrip to keep
- Till, the journey ended, he stands at last
- In the gathering dark, at the gate of sleep.
- _Ethel Clifford._
-
-And so our stories should contain all the essentials for the child's
-scrip on the road of life, providing the essentials and holding or
-withholding the non-essentials. But, above all, let us fill the scrip
-with gifts that the child need never reject, even when he passes
-through “the gate of sleep.”
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[24] Chapter I, page 3.
-
-[25] This experiment cannot be made with a group of children, for
-obvious reasons.
-
-[26] From an address on the “Cultivation of the Imagination.”
-
-[27] “The House in the Wood” (Grimm) is a good instance of triumph for
-the youngest child.
-
-[28] To be found in Andrew Lang's Collection. See list of Stories.
-
-[29] To be found in Jacob's “More English Tales.”
-
-[30] For selection of suitable stories among legends of the Saints, see
-Story Lists.
-
-[31] I believe that I am quite in a minority among Educationists in
-this matter. Possibly my constantly specialising in the stories may
-have formed my opinion.
-
-[32] These words have been set most effectively to music by Miss
-Margaret Ruthven Lang. (Boston.)
-
-[33] From “Moral Instruction of Children,” page 66. “The Use of Fairy
-Tales.”
-
-[34] From “Talks to Teachers,” page 93.
-
-[35] An excellent account of this is to be found in “The Song of
-Roland,” by Arthur Way and Frederic Spender.
-
-[36] This passage was written before the Great War.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VI.
-
-HOW TO OBTAIN AND MAINTAIN THE EFFECT OF THE STORY.
-
-
-WE are now coming to the most important part of the question of
-Story-Telling, to which all the foregoing remarks have been gradually
-leading, and that is the Effects of these stories upon the child, apart
-from the dramatic joy he experiences in listening to them, which would
-in itself be quite enough to justify us in the telling. But, since I
-have urged upon teachers the extreme importance of giving so much time
-to the manner of telling and of bestowing so much care on the selection
-of the material, it is right that they should expect some permanent
-results, or else those who are not satisfied with the mere enjoyment of
-the children will seek other methods of appeal--and it is to them that
-I most specially dedicate this chapter.
-
-I think we are on the threshold of the re-discovery of an old truth,
-that the Dramatic Presentation is the quickest and surest, because
-it is the only one with which memory plays no tricks. If a thing has
-appeared before us in a vital form, nothing can really destroy it; it
-is because things are often given in a blurred, faint light that they
-gradually fade out of our memory. A very keen scientist was deploring
-to me, on one occasion, the fact that stories were told so much in the
-schools, to the detriment of science, for which she claimed the same
-indestructible element that I recognise in the best-told stories.
-Being very much interested in her point of view, I asked her to tell
-me, looking back on her school days, what she could remember as
-standing out from other less clear information. After thinking some
-little time over the matter, she said with some embarrassment, but with
-a candour that did her much honour:
-
-“Well, now I come to think of it, it was the story of Cinderella.”
-
-Now, I am not holding any brief for this story in particular. I think
-the reason it was remembered was because of the dramatic form in which
-it was presented to her, which fired her imagination and kept the
-memory alight. I quite realise that a scientific fact might also have
-been easily remembered if it was presented in the form of a successful
-chemical experiment: but this also has something of the dramatic appeal
-and will be remembered on that account.
-
-Sully says: “We cannot understand the fascination of a story for
-children save in remembering that for their young minds, quick to
-imagine, and unversed in abstract reflection, words are not dead things
-but _winged_, as the old Greeks called them.”[37]
-
-The Red Queen (in “Through the Looking-Glass”) was more psychological
-than she knew when she made the memorable statement: “When once you've
-_said_ a thing that _fixes_ it, and you must take the consequences.”
-
-In Curtin's Introduction to “Myths and Folk Tales of the Russians,” he
-says:
-
-“I remember well the feeling roused in my mind at the mention or sight
-of the name _Lucifer_ during the early years of my life. It stood for
-me as the name of a being stupendous, dreadful in moral deformity,
-lurid, hideous and mighty. I remember the surprise which, when I had
-grown somewhat older and began to study Latin, I came upon the name in
-Virgil where it means _light-bringer_--the herald of the Sun.”
-
-Plato has said: “That the End of Education should be the training by
-suitable habits of the Instincts of Virtue in the Child.”
-
-About two thousand years later, Sir Philip Sidney, in his “Defence of
-Poesy,” says: “The final end of learning is to draw and lead us to so
-high a perfection as our degenerate souls, made worse by their clay
-lodgings, can be capable of.”
-
-And yet it is neither the Greek philosopher nor the Elizabethan poet
-that makes the every-day application of these principles; but we have
-a hint of this application from the Pueblo tribe of Indians, of whom
-Lummis tells us the following:
-
-“There is no duty to which a Pueblo child is trained in which he has
-to be content with a bare command: Do this. For each he learns a
-fairy-tale designed to explain how children first came to know that
-it was right to ‘do this,’ and detailing the sad results that befell
-those who did otherwise. Some tribes have regular story-tellers, men
-who have devoted a great deal of time to learning the myths and stories
-of their people and who possess, in addition to a good memory, a vivid
-imagination. The mother sends for one of these, and having prepared a
-feast for him, she and her little brood, who are curled up near her,
-await the Fairy Stories of the dreamer, who after his feast and smoke
-entertains the company for hours.”
-
-In modern times, the nurse, who is now receiving such complete
-training for her duties with the children, should be ready to
-imitate the “dreamer” of the Indian tribe. I rejoice to find that
-regular instruction in Story-telling is being given in many of the
-institutions where the nurses are trained.
-
-Some years ago there appeared a book by Dion Calthrop called “King
-Peter,” which illustrates very fully the effect of story-telling. It
-is the account of the education of a young prince which is carried on
-at first by means of stories, and later he is taken out into the arena
-of Life to be shown what is happening there--the dramatic appeal being
-always the means used to awaken his imagination. The fact that only
-_one_ story a year is told him prevents our seeing the effect from day
-to day, but the time matters little. We only need faith to believe that
-the growth, though slow, was very sure.
-
-There is something of the same idea in the “Adventures of Telemachus,”
-written by Fénélon for his royal pupil, the young Duke of Burgundy; but
-whereas Calthrop trusts to the results of indirect teaching by means of
-dramatic stories, Fénélon, on the contrary, makes use of the somewhat
-heavy, didactic method, so that one would think the attention of the
-young prince must have wandered at times; and I imagine Telemachus was
-in the same condition when he was addressed at some length by Mentor,
-who, being Minerva (though in disguise), should occasionally have
-displayed that sense of humour which must always temper true wisdom:
-
-Take, for instance, the heavy reproof conveyed in the following
-passage:
-
-“Death and shipwreck are less dreadful than the pleasures that attack
-Virtue.... Youth is full of presumption and arrogance, though nothing
-in the world is so frail: it fears nothing, and vainly relies on its
-own strength, believing everything with the utmost levity and without
-any precaution.”
-
-And on another occasion, when Calypso hospitably provides clothes for
-the shipwrecked men, and Telemachus is handling a tunic of the finest
-wool and white as snow, with a vest of purple embroidered with gold,
-and displaying much pleasure in the magnificence of the clothes, Mentor
-addresses him in a severe voice, saying: “Are these, O Telemachus, the
-thoughts that ought to occupy the heart of the son of Ulysses? A young
-man who loves to dress vainly, as a woman does, is unworthy of wisdom
-or glory.”
-
-I remember, as a schoolgirl of thirteen, having to commit to memory
-several books of these adventures, so as to become familiar with the
-style. Far from being impressed by the wisdom of Mentor, I was simply
-bored, and wondered why Telemachus did not escape from him. The only
-part in the book that really interested me was Calypso's unrequited
-love for Telemachus, but this was always the point where we ceased to
-learn by heart, which surprised me greatly, for it was here that the
-real human interest seemed to begin.
-
-Of all the effects which I hope for from the telling of stories in the
-schools, personally I place first the dramatic joy we bring to the
-children and to ourselves. But there are many who would consider this
-result as fantastic, if not frivolous, and not to be classed among the
-educational values concocted with the introduction of stories into the
-school curriculum. I therefore propose to speak of other effects of
-story-telling which may seem of more practical value.
-
-The first, which is of a purely negative character, is that through
-means of a dramatic story we can counteract some of the sights and
-sounds of the streets which appeal to the melodramatic instinct in
-children. I am sure that all teachers whose work lies in the crowded
-cities must have realised the effect produced on children by what they
-see and hear on their way to and from school. If we merely consider
-the hoardings, with their realistic representations, quite apart from
-the actual dramatic happenings in the street, we at once perceive
-that the ordinary school interests pale before such lurid appeals as
-these. How can we expect the child who has stood open-mouthed before
-a poster representing a woman chloroformed by a burglar, whilst that
-hero escapes in safety with her jewels, to display any interest in the
-arid monotony of the multiplication-table? The illegitimate excitement
-created by the sight of the depraved burglar can only be counteracted
-by something equally exciting along the realistic but legitimate side;
-and this is where the story of the right kind becomes so valuable, and
-why the teacher who is artistic enough to undertake the task can find
-the short path to results which theorists seek for so long in vain. It
-is not even necessary to have an exceedingly exciting story; sometimes
-one which will bring about pure reaction may be just as suitable.
-
-I remember in my personal experience an instance of this kind. I had
-been reading with some children of about ten years old the story from
-Cymbeline, of Imogen in the forest scene, when the brothers strew
-flowers upon her, and sing the funeral dirge,
-
- “Fear no more the heat of the sun.”
-
-Just as we had all taken on this tender, gentle mood, the door opened
-and one of the prefects announced in a loud voice the news of the
-relief of Mafeking. The children were on their feet at once, cheering
-lustily, and for the moment the joy over the relief of the brave
-garrison was the predominant feeling. Then, before the Jingo spirit
-had time to assert itself, I took advantage of a momentary reaction and
-said: “Now, children, don't you think we can pay England the tribute
-of going back to England's greatest poet?” In a few minutes we were
-back in the heart of the Forest, and I can still hear the delightful
-intonation of those subdued voices repeating:
-
- Golden lads and girls all must
- Like chimney-sweepers come to dust.
-
-It is interesting to note that the same problem that is exercising
-us to-day was a source of difficulty to people in remote times. The
-following is taken from an old Chinese document, and has particular
-interest for us to-day.
-
-“The Philosopher Mentius (born 371 B.C.) was left fatherless at a very
-tender age and brought up by his mother Changsi. The care of this
-prudent and attentive mother has been cited as a model for all virtuous
-parents. The house she occupied was near that of a butcher: she
-observed at the first cry of the animals that were being slaughtered,
-the little Mentius ran to be present at the sight, and that, on his
-return, he sought to imitate what he had seen. Fearful lest his heart
-might become hardened, and accustomed to the sights of blood, she
-removed to another house which was in the neighbourhood of a cemetery.
-The relations of those who were buried there came often to weep upon
-their graves, and make their customary libations. The lad soon took
-pleasure in their ceremonies and amused himself by imitating them.
-This was a new subject of uneasiness to his mother: she feared her
-son might come to consider as a jest what is of all things the most
-serious, and that he might acquire a habit of performing with levity,
-and as a matter of routine merely, ceremonies which demand the most
-exact attention and respect. Again therefore she anxiously changed the
-dwelling, and went to live in the city, opposite to a school, where her
-son found examples the most worthy of imitation, and began to profit
-by them. This anecdote has become incorporated by the Chinese into a
-proverb, which they constantly quote: The Mother of Mentius seeks a
-neighbourhood.”
-
-Another influence we have to counteract is that of newspaper headings
-which catch the eye of children in the streets and appeal so powerfully
-to their imagination.
-
-Shakespeare has said:
-
- Tell me where is Fancy bred,
- Or in the heart, or in the head?
- How begot, how nourished?
- Reply, reply.
- It is engendered in the eyes
- With gazing fed: and Fancy dies
- In the cradle where it lies.
- Let us all ring Fancy's knell.
- I'll begin it--ding, dong, bell.
- “_Merchant of Venice._”
-
-If this be true, it is of importance to decide what our children shall
-look upon as far as we can control the vision, so that we can form some
-idea of the effect upon their imagination.
-
-Having alluded to the dangerous influence of the street, I should
-hasten to say that this influence is very far from being altogether
-bad. There are possibilities of romance in street life which may have
-just the same kind of effect on children as the telling of exciting
-stories. I am indebted to Mrs. Arnold Glover (Hon. Sec. of the National
-Organisation of Girls' Clubs), one of the most widely informed people
-on this subject, for the two following experiences gathered from the
-streets which bear indirectly on the subject of story-telling:
-
-Mrs. Glover was visiting a sick woman in a very poor neighbourhood,
-and found, sitting on the doorstep of the house, two children, holding
-something tightly grasped in their little hands, and gazing with much
-expectancy towards the top of the street. She longed to know what they
-were doing, but not being one of those unimaginative and tactless
-folk who rush headlong into the mysteries of children's doings, she
-passed them at first in silence. It was only when she found them still
-in the same silent and expectant posture half-an-hour later that
-she said tentatively: “I wonder whether you would tell me what you
-are doing here?” After some hesitation, one of them said, in a shy
-voice: “We're waitin' for the barrer.” It then transpired that, once a
-week, a vegetable-and flower-cart was driven through this particular
-street, on its way to a more prosperous neighbourhood, and on a few
-red-letter days, a flower, or a sprig, or even a root sometimes fell
-out of the back of the cart; and those two little children were waiting
-there in hope, with their hands full of soil, ready to plant anything
-which might by golden chance fall that way, in their secret garden of
-oyster-shells.
-
-This seems to me as charming a fairy-tale as any that our books can
-supply.
-
-Another time Mrs. Glover was collecting the pennies for the Holiday
-Fund Savings Bank from the children who came weekly to her house. She
-noticed on three consecutive Mondays that one little lad deliberately
-helped himself to a new envelope from her table. Not wishing to
-frighten or startle him, she allowed this to continue for some weeks,
-and then one day, having dismissed the other children, she asked him
-quite quietly why he was taking the envelopes. At first he was very
-sulky, and said: “I need them better than you do.” She quite agreed
-this might be, but reminded him that, after all, they belonged to her.
-She promised, however, that if he would tell her for what purpose he
-wanted the envelopes, she would endeavour to help him in the matter.
-Then came the astonishing announcement: “I am building a navy.” After
-a little more gradual questioning, Mrs. Glover drew from the boy the
-information that the Borough Water Carts passed through the side
-street once a week, flushing the gutter; that then the Envelope Ships
-were made to sail on the water and pass under the covered ways which
-formed bridges for wayfarers and tunnels for the “navy.” Great was the
-excitement when the ships passed out of sight and were recognised as
-they arrived safely at the other end. Of course the expenses in raw
-material were greatly diminished by the illicit acquisition of Mrs.
-Glover's property, and in this way she had unconsciously provided the
-neighbourhood with a navy and a Commander. Her first instinct, after
-becoming acquainted with the whole story, was to present the boy with a
-real boat, but on second thought she collected and gave him a number of
-old envelopes with names and addresses upon them, which added greatly
-to the excitement of the sailing, because they could be more easily
-identified as they came out of the other side of the tunnel, and had
-their respective reputations as to speed.
-
-Here is indeed food for romance, and I give both instances to prove
-that the advantages of street life are to be taken into consideration
-as well as the disadvantages; though I think we are bound to admit that
-the latter outweigh the former.
-
-One of the immediate results of dramatic stories is the escape from
-the commonplace, to which I have already alluded in quoting Mr.
-Goschen's words. The desire for this escape is a healthy one, common to
-adults and children. When we wish to get away from our own surroundings
-and interests, we do for ourselves what I maintain we ought to do for
-children; we step into the land of fiction. It has always been a source
-of astonishment to me that, in trying to escape from our own every-day
-surroundings, we do not step more boldly into the land of pure romance,
-which would form a real contrast to our every-day life, but in nine
-cases out of ten the fiction which is sought after deals with the
-subjects of our ordinary existence--namely, frenzied finance, sordid
-poverty, political corruption, fast society, and religious doubts.
-
-There is the same danger in the selection of fiction for children:
-namely, a tendency to choose very utilitarian stories, both in form and
-substance, so that we do not lift the children out of the commonplace.
-I remember once seeing the titles of two little books, the contents of
-which were being read or told to small children of the poorer class:
-one was called “Tom the Boot-black,” the other, “Dan the News-boy.”
-My chief objection to these stories was the fact that neither of
-the heroes rejoiced in their work for the work's sake. Had Tom even
-invented a new kind of blacking, or if Dan had started a splendid
-newspaper, it might have been encouraging for those among the listeners
-who were thinking of engaging in similar professions. It is true, both
-gentlemen amassed large fortunes, but surely the school age is not to
-be limited to such dreams and aspirations as these! One wearies of the
-tales of boys who arrive in a town with one cent in their pockets, and
-leave it as millionaires, with the added importance of a Mayoralty, not
-to speak of a Knighthood. It is true that the romantic prototype of
-these boys is Dick Whittington, for whom we unconsciously cherish the
-affection which we often bestow on a far-off personage. Perhaps--who
-knows?--it is the picturesque adjunct of the cat--lacking to modern
-millionaires.[38]
-
-I do not think it Utopian to present to children a fair share of
-stories which deal with the importance of things “untouched by hand.”
-They too can learn at an early age that “the things which are seen are
-temporal, but the things which are unseen are spiritual.” To those who
-wish to try the effect of such stories on children, I present for their
-encouragement the following lines from Whitcomb Riley:
-
-
-THE TREASURE OF THE WISE MAN.[39]
-
- Oh, the night was dark and the night was late,
- When the robbers came to rob him;
- And they picked the lock of his palace-gate,
- The robbers who came to rob him--
- They picked the lock of the palace-gate,
- Seized his jewels and gems of State
- His coffers of gold and his priceless plate,--
- The robbers that came to rob him.
-
- But loud laughed he in the morning red!--
- For of what had the robbers robbed him?
- Ho! hidden safe, as he slept in bed,
- When the robbers came to rob him,--
- They robbed him not of a golden shred
- Of the childish dreams in his wise old head--
- “And they're welcome to all things else,” he said,
- When the robbers came to rob him.
-
-There is a great deal of this romantic spirit, combined with a
-delightful sense of irresponsibility, which I claim above all things
-for small children, to be found in our old Nursery Rhymes. I quote from
-the following article written by the Rev. R. L. Gales for the _Nation_.
-
-After speaking on the subject of Fairy Stories being eliminated from
-the school curriculum, the writer adds:
-
-“This would be lessening the joy of the world and taking from
-generations yet unborn the capacity for wonder, the power to take a
-large unselfish interest in the spectacle of things, and putting them
-forever at the mercy of small private cares.
-
-A Nursery Rhyme is the most sane, the most unselfish thing in the
-world. It calls up some delightful image,--a little nut-tree with a
-silver walnut and a golden pear; some romantic adventure only for the
-child's delight and liberation from the bondage of unseeing dulness: it
-brings before the mind the quintessence of some good thing:
-
-'The little dog laughed to see such sport'--there is the soul of
-good humour, of sanity, of health in the laughter of that innocently
-wicked little dog. It is the laughter of pure frolic without
-unkindness. To have laughed with the little dog as a child is the best
-preservative against mirthless laughter in later years--the horse
-laughter of brutality, the ugly laughter of spite, the acrid laughter
-of fanaticism. The world of Nursery Rhymes, the old world of Mrs.
-Slipper-Slopper, is the world of natural things, of quick, healthy
-motion, of the joy of living.
-
-In Nursery Rhymes the child is entertained with all the pageant of
-the world. It walks in Fairy Gardens, and for it the singing birds
-pass. All the King's horses and all the King's men pass before it in
-their glorious array. Craftsmen of all sorts, bakers, confectioners,
-silversmiths, blacksmiths are busy for it with all their arts and
-mysteries, as at the court of an Eastern King.”
-
-In insisting on the value of this escape from the commonplace, I cannot
-prove the importance of it more clearly than by showing what may happen
-to a child who is deprived of his birthright by having none of the
-Fairy Tale element presented to him. In “Father and Son,” Mr. Edmund
-Gosse says:
-
-“Meanwhile, capable as I was of reading, I found my greatest pleasure
-in the pages of books. The range of these was limited, for story-books
-of every description were sternly excluded. No fiction of any kind,
-religious or secular, was admitted into the house. In this it was to
-my Mother, not to my Father, that the prohibition was due. She had a
-remarkable, I confess, to me somewhat unaccountable impression that to
-‘tell a story,’ that is, to compose fictitious narrative of any kind,
-was a sin.... Nor would she read the chivalrous tales in the verse of
-Sir Walter Scott, obstinately alleging that they were not true. She
-would read nothing but lyrical and subjective poetry.... As a child,
-however, she had possessed a passion for making up stories, and so
-considerable a skill in it, that she was constantly being begged to
-indulge others with its exercise.... ‘When I was a very little child,’
-she says, ‘I used to amuse myself and my brothers with inventing
-stories such as I had read. Having, as I suppose, naturally a restless
-mind and busy imagination, this soon became the chief pleasure of
-my life. Unfortunately, my brothers were always fond of encouraging
-this propensity, and I found in Taylor, my maid, a still greater
-tempter. I had not known there was any harm in it, until Miss Shore (a
-Calvinistic governess), finding it out, lectured me severely and told
-me it was wicked. From that time forth I considered that to invent
-a story of any kind was a sin.... But the longing to invent stories
-grew with violence. The simplicity of Truth was not enough for me. I
-must needs embroider imagination upon it, and the folly and wickedness
-which disgraced my heart are more than I am able to express....’ This
-(the Author, her son, adds) is surely a very painful instance of the
-repression of an instinct.”
-
-In contrast to the stifling of the imagination, it is good to recall
-the story of the great Hermits who, having listened to the discussion
-of the Monday sitting at the Académie des Sciences (Institut de France)
-as to the best way to teach the young how to shoot in the direction
-of mathematical genius, said: “_Cultivez l'imagination, messieurs.
-Tout est là. Si vous voulez des mathématiciens, donnez à vos enfants à
-lire--des Contes de Fées._”
-
-Another important effect of the story is to develop at an early
-age sympathy for children of other countries where conditions are
-different from our own. There is a book used in American schools
-called “Little Citizens of other Lands,” dealing with the clothes,
-the games and occupations of those little citizens. Stories of this
-kind are particularly necessary to prevent the development of insular
-notions, and are a check on that robust form of Philistinism, only
-too prevalent, alas! among grown-ups, which looks askance at new
-suggestions and makes the withering remark: “How un-English! How
-queer!”--the second comment being, it would seem, a natural corollary
-to the first.[40]
-
-I have so constantly to deal with the question of confusion between
-Truth and Fiction in the mind of children that it might be useful
-to offer here an example of the way they make the distinction for
-themselves.
-
-Mrs. Ewing says on this subject:
-
-“If there are young intellects so imperfect as to be incapable of
-distinguishing between Fancy and Falsehood, it is most desirable to
-develop in them the power to do so, but, as a rule, in childhood,
-we appreciate the distinction with a vivacity which as elders our
-care-clogged memories fail to recall.”
-
-Mr. P. A. Barnett, in his book on the “Commonsense of Education,” says,
-alluding to Fairy Tales:
-
-“Children will _act_ them but not act _upon_ them, and they will
-not accept the incidents as part of their effectual belief. They
-will imagine, to be sure, grotesque worlds, full of admirable and
-interesting personages to whom strange things might have happened.
-So much the better; this largeness of imagination is one of the
-possessions that distinguish the better nurtured child from others less
-fortunate.”
-
-The following passage from Stevenson's essay on _Child Play_[41] will
-furnish an instance of children's aptitude for creating their own
-dramatic atmosphere:
-
-“When my cousin and I took our porridge of a morning, we had a device
-to enliven the course of a meal. He ate his with sugar, and explained
-it to be a country continually buried under snow. I took mine with
-milk, and explained it to be a country suffering gradual inundation.
-You can imagine us exchanging bulletins; how here was an island still
-unsubmerged, here a valley not yet covered with snow; what inventions
-were made; how his population lived in cabins on perches and travelled
-on stilts, and how mine was always in boats; how the interest grew
-furious as the last corner of safe ground was cut off on all sides and
-grew smaller every moment; and how, in fine, the food was of altogether
-secondary importance, and might even have been nauseous, so long as we
-seasoned it with these dreams. But perhaps the most exciting moments I
-ever had over a meal, were in the case of calves' feet jelly. It was
-hardly possible not to believe, and you may be quite sure, so far from
-trying it, I did all I could to favour the illusion--that some part of
-it was hollow, and that sooner or later my spoon would lay open the
-secret tabernacle of that golden rock. There, might some Red-Beard
-await this hour; there might one find the treasures of the Forty
-Thieves. And so I quarried on slowly, with bated breath, savouring
-the interest. Believe me, I had little palate left for the jelly; and
-though I preferred the taste when I took cream with it, I used often to
-go without because the cream dimmed the transparent fractures.”
-
-In his work on Imagination, Ribot says: “The free initiative of
-children is always superior to the imitations we pretend to make for
-them.”
-
-The passage from Robert Stevenson becomes more clear from a scientific
-point of view when taken in connection with one from Karl Groos' book
-on the “Psychology of Animal Play”:
-
-“The Child is wholly absorbed in his play, and yet under the ebb and
-flow of thought and feeling like still water under wind-swept waves, he
-has the knowledge that it is pretence after all. Behind the sham ‘I’
-that takes part in the game, stands the unchanged ‘I’ which regards the
-sham ‘I’ with quiet superiority.”
-
-Queyrat speaks of play as one of the distinct phases of a child's
-imagination; it is “essentially a metamorphosis of reality, a
-transformation of places and things.”
-
-Now to return to the point which Mrs. Ewing makes, namely, that we
-should develop in normal children the power of distinguishing between
-Truth and Falsehood.
-
-I should suggest including two or three stories which would test that
-power in children, and if they fail to realise the difference between
-romancing and telling lies then it is evident that they need special
-attention and help along this line. I give the titles of two stories of
-this kind in the collection at the end of the book.[42]
-
-So far we have dealt only with the negative results of stories, but
-there are more important effects, and I am persuaded that if we are
-careful in our choice of stories, and artistic in our presentation
-(so that the truth is framed, so to speak, in the memory), we can
-unconsciously correct evil tendencies in children which they only
-recognise in themselves when they have already criticised them in
-the characters of the story. I have sometimes been misunderstood on
-this point, therefore I should like to make it quite clear. I do
-_not_ mean that stories should take the place entirely of moral or
-direct teaching, but that on many occasions they could supplement
-and strengthen moral teaching, because the dramatic appeal to the
-imagination is quicker than the moral appeal to the conscience. A child
-will often resist the latter lest it should make him uncomfortable
-or appeal to his personal sense of responsibility: it is often not in
-his power to resist the former, because it has taken possession of him
-before he is aware of it.
-
-As a concrete example, I offer three verses from a poem entitled “A
-Ballad for a Boy,” written some twelve years ago by W. Cory, an Eton
-master. The whole poem is to be found in a book of poems known as
-“Ionica” (published by George Allen and Co.).
-
-The poem describes a fight between two ships, the French ship
-_Téméraire_ and the English ship _Quebec_. The English ship was
-destroyed by fire. Farmer, the captain, was killed, and the officers
-taken prisoners:
-
- “They dealt with us as brethren, they mourned for Farmer dead;
- And as the wounded captives passed, each Breton bowed the head.
- Then spoke the French lieutenant, 'Twas the fire that won, not we:
- You never struck your flag to _us_; you'll go to England free.'[43]
-
- 'Twas the sixth day of October, Seventeen-hundred-seventy-nine,
- A year when nations ventured against us to combine,
- _Quebec_ was burned and Farmer slain, by us remembered not;
- But thanks be to the French book wherein they're not forgot.
-
- And you, if you've to fight the French, my youngster, bear in mind
- Those seamen of King Louis so chivalrous and kind;
- Think of the Breton gentlemen who took our lads to Brest,
- And treat some rescued Breton as a comrade and a guest.”
-
-This poem is specially to be commended because it is another example of
-the finer qualities which are developed in war.[44]
-
-Now, such a ballad as this, which, being pure narrative, could
-easily be introduced into the story-hour, would do as much to foster
-“_L'entente cordiale_” as any processions or civic demonstrations,
-or lavish international exchange of hospitality. It has also a great
-practical application now that we are encouraging visits between
-English and foreign children. Let us hope the _entente cordiale_ will
-not stop at France. There must be many such instances of magnanimity
-and generosity displayed to us by other nations, and it might be
-well to collect them and include them among stories for the school
-curriculum.
-
-But in all our stories, in order to produce desired effects we must
-refrain from holding, as Burroughs says, “a brief for either side,” and
-we must leave the decision of the children free in this matter.[45]
-
-In a review of Ladd's _Psychology_ in the “Academy,” we find a passage
-which refers as much to the story as to the novel:
-
- “The psychological novelist girds up his loins and sets himself
- to write little essays on each of his characters. If he have the
- gift of the thing he may analyse motives with a subtlety which is
- more than their desert, and exhibit simple folk passing through the
- most dazzling rotations. If he be a novice, he is reduced to mere
- crude invention--the result in both cases is quite beyond the true
- purpose of Art. Art--when all is said and done--is a suggestion,
- and it refuses to be explained. Make it obvious, unfold it in
- detail, and you reduce it to a dead letter.”
-
-Again there is a sentence by Schopenhauer applied to novels which would
-apply equally well to stories:
-
-“Skill consists in setting the inner life in motion with the smallest
-possible array of circumstances, for it is this inner life that excites
-our interest.”
-
-Now, in order to produce an encouraging and lasting effect by means
-of our stories, we should be careful to introduce a certain number
-from fiction where virtue is rewarded and vice punished, because
-to appreciate the fact that “virtue is its own reward” calls for a
-developed and philosophic mind, or a born saint, of whom there will
-not, I think, be many among normal children: a comforting fact, on the
-whole, as the normal teacher is apt to confuse them with prigs.
-
-A _grande dame_ visiting an elementary school listened to the telling
-of an exciting story from fiction, and was impressed by the thrill
-of delight which passed through the children. But when the story was
-finished, she said: “But _oh!_ what a pity the story was not taken from
-actual history!”
-
-Now, not only was this comment quite beside the mark, but the lady
-in question did not realise that pure fiction has one quality which
-history cannot have. The historian, bound by fact and accuracy, must
-often let his hero come to grief. The poet (or, in this case, we may
-call him, in the Greek sense, the “maker” of stories) strives to show
-_ideal_ justice.
-
-What encouragement to virtue (except for the abnormal child) can be
-offered by the stories of good men coming to grief, such as we find in
-Miltiades, Phocion, Socrates, Severus, Cicero, Cato and Cæsar?
-
-Sir Philip Sidney says in his “Defence of Poesy”:
-
-“Only the Poet declining to be held by the limitations of the lawyer,
-the _historian_, the grammarian, the rhetorician, the logician, the
-physician, the metaphysician, if lifted up with the vigour of his own
-imagination; doth grow in effect into another nature in making things
-either better than Nature bringeth forth or quite anew, as the Heroes,
-Demi-gods, Cyclops, Furies and such like, so as he goeth hand in hand
-with Nature not enclosed in the narrow range of her gifts but freely
-ranging within the Zodiac of his own art--_her_ world is brazen; the
-poet only delivers a golden one.”
-
-The effect of the story need not stop at the negative task of
-correcting evil tendencies. There is the positive effect of translating
-the abstract ideal of the story into concrete action.
-
-I was told by Lady Henry Somerset that when the first set of slum
-children came down for a fortnight's holiday in the country, she was
-much startled and shocked by the obscenity of the games they played
-amongst themselves. Being a sound psychologist, Lady Henry wisely
-refrained from appearing surprised or from attempting any direct method
-of reproof. “I saw,” she said, “that the ‘goody’ element would have no
-effect, so I changed the whole atmosphere by reading to them or telling
-them the most thrilling mediæval tales without any commentary. By the
-end of the fortnight the activities had all changed. The boys were
-performing astonishing deeds of prowess, and the girls were allowing
-themselves to be rescued from burning towers and fetid dungeons.”
-Now, if these deeds of chivalry appear somewhat stilted to us, we can
-at least realise that, having changed the whole atmosphere of the
-filthy games, it is easier to translate the deeds into something a
-little more in accordance with the spirit of the age, and boys will
-more readily wish later on to save their sisters from dangers more
-sordid and commonplace than fiery towers and dark dungeons, if they
-have once performed the deeds in which they had to court danger and
-self-sacrifice for themselves.
-
-And now we come to the question as to how these effects are to be
-maintained. In what has already been stated about the danger of
-introducing the dogmatic and direct appeal into the story, it is
-evident that the avoidance of this element is the first means of
-preserving the story in all its artistic force in the memory of the
-child, and we must be careful, as I point out in the chapter on
-Questions, not to interfere by comment or question with the atmosphere
-we have made round the story, or else, in the future, that story will
-become blurred and overlaid with the remembrance, not of the artistic
-whole, as presented by the teller of the story, but by some unimportant
-small side issue raised by an irrelevant question or a superfluous
-comment.
-
-Many people think that the dramatisation of the story by the children
-themselves helps to maintain the effect produced. Personally, I fear
-there is the same danger as in the immediate reproduction of the story,
-namely, that the general dramatic effect may be weakened.
-
-If, however, there is to be dramatisation (and I do not wish to
-dogmatise on the subject), I think it should be confined to facts
-and not fancies, and this is why I realise the futility of the
-dramatisation of Fairy Tales.
-
-Horace Scudder says on this subject:
-
-“Nothing has done more to vulgarise the Fairy than its introduction
-on the stage. The charm of the Fairy Tale is its divorce from human
-experience; the charm of the stage is its realisation in miniature of
-Human Life. If a frog is heard to speak, if a dog is changed before
-our eyes into a prince by having cold water dashed over it, the charm
-of the Fairy Tale has fled, and, in its place, we have the perplexing
-pleasure of _leger de main_. Since the real life of a Fairy is in the
-imagination, a wrong is committed when it is dragged from its shadowy
-hiding-place and made to turn into ashes under the calcium light of the
-understanding.”[46]
-
-I am bound to confess that the teachers have a case when they plead for
-this re-producing of the story, and there are three arguments they use
-whose validity I admit, but which have nevertheless not converted me,
-because the loss, to my mind, would exceed the gain.
-
-The first argument they put forward is that the reproduction of the
-story enables the child to enlarge and improve his vocabulary. Now
-I greatly sympathise with this point of view, only, as I regard the
-story-hour as a very precious and special one, which I think may have a
-lasting effect on the character of a child, I do not think it important
-that, during this hour, a child should be called upon to improve his
-vocabulary at the expense of the dramatic whole, and at the expense
-of the literary form in which the story has been presented. It would
-be like using the Bible for parsing or paraphrase or pronunciation.
-So far, I believe, the line has been drawn here, though there are
-blasphemers who have laid impious hands on Milton or Shakespeare for
-this purpose.
-
-There are surely other lessons (as I have already said in dealing with
-the reproduction of the story quite apart from the dramatisation),
-lessons more utilitarian in character, which can be used for this
-purpose: the facts of history (I mean the mere facts as compared with
-the deep truths) and those of geography, above all, the grammar lessons
-are those in which the vocabulary can be enlarged and improved. But
-I am anxious to keep the story-hour apart as dedicated to something
-higher than these excellent but utilitarian considerations.
-
-The second argument used by the teachers is the joy felt by the
-children in being allowed to dramatise the stories. This, too, appeals
-very strongly to me, but there is a means of satisfying their desire
-and yet protecting the dramatic whole, and that is occasionally to
-allow children to act out their own dramatic inventions; this, to my
-mind, has great educational significance: it is original and creative
-work and, apart from the joy of the immediate performance, there is
-the interesting process of comparison which can be presented to the
-children, showing them the difference between their elementary attempts
-and the finished product of the experienced artist, which they can be
-led to recognise by their own powers of observation if the teachers are
-not in too great a hurry to point it out themselves.
-
-Here is a short original story (quoted by the French psychologist,
-Queyrat, in his “Jeux de l'enfance”) written by a child of five:
-
-“One day I went to sea in a life-boat--all at once I saw an enormous
-whale, and I jumped out of the boat to catch him, but he was so big
-that I climbed on his back and rode astride, and all the little fishes
-laughed to see.”
-
-Here is a complete and exciting drama, making a wonderful picture
-and teeming with adventure. We could scarcely offer anything to so
-small a child for reproduction that would be a greater stimulus to the
-imagination.
-
-Here is another, offered by Loti, but the age of the child is not given:
-
-“Once upon a time, a little girl out in the Colonies cut open a huge
-melon, and out popped a green beast and stung her, and the little child
-died.”
-
-Loti adds: “The phrases ‘out in the Colonies’ and ‘a huge melon’
-were enough to plunge me suddenly into a dream. As by an apparition,
-I beheld tropical trees, forests alive with marvellous birds. Oh!
-the simple magic of the words 'the Colonies'! In my childhood they
-stood for a multitude of distant sun-scorched countries, with their
-palm-trees, their enormous flowers, their black natives, their wild
-beasts, their endless possibilities of adventure.”
-
-I quote this in full because it shows so clearly the magic force of
-words to evoke pictures, without any material representation. It is
-just the opposite effect of the pictures presented to the bodily eye
-without the splendid educational opportunity for the child to form his
-own mental image.
-
-I am more and more convinced that the rare power of visualization is
-accounted for by the lack of mental practice afforded along these lines.
-
-The third argument used by the teachers in favour of the dramatisation
-of the stories is that it is a means of discovering how much the child
-has really learnt from the story. Now this argument makes absolutely no
-appeal to me.
-
-My experience, in the first place, has taught me that a child very
-seldom gives out any account of a deep impression made upon him: it
-is too sacred and personal. But he very soon learns to know what is
-expected of him, and he keeps a set of stock sentences which he has
-found out are acceptable to the teacher. How can we possibly gauge the
-deep effects of a story in this way, or how can a child, by acting
-out a story, describe the subtle elements which you have tried to
-introduce? You might as well try to show with a pint measure how the
-sun and rain have affected a plant, instead of rejoicing in the beauty
-of the sure, if slow, growth.
-
-Then, again, why are we in such a hurry to find out what effects have
-been produced by our stories? Does it matter whether we know to-day or
-to-morrow how much a child has understood? For my part, so sure do I
-feel of the effect that I am willing to wait indefinitely. Only I must
-make sure that the first presentation is truly dramatic and artistic.
-
-The teachers of general subjects have a much easier and more simple
-task. Those who teach science, mathematics, even, to a certain extent,
-history and literature, are able to gauge with a fair amount of
-accuracy, by means of examination, what their pupils have learnt. The
-teaching carried on by means of stories can never be gauged in the
-same manner. We must be content, though we have nothing to place in
-our “shop window,” content to know of the possessions behind, and make
-up our mind that we can show the education authorities little or no
-results from our teaching, but that the real fruit will be seen by the
-next generation; and we can take courage, for, if our story be “a thing
-of beauty,” it will never “pass into nothingness.”
-
-Carlyle has said:[47]
-
-“Of this thing be certain: wouldst thou plant for Eternity, then plant
-into the deep infinite faculties of man, his Fantasy and Heart. Wouldst
-thou plant for Year and Day, then plant into his shallow superficial
-faculties, his self-love and arithmetical understanding, what will grow
-there.”
-
-If we use this marvellous Art of Story-Telling in the way I have tried
-to show, then the children who have been confided to our care will one
-day be able to bring to us the tribute which Björnson brought to Hans
-C. Andersen:
-
- Wings you give to my Imagination,
- Me uplifting to the strange and great;
- Gave my heart the poet's revelation,
- Glorifying things of low estate.
-
- When my child-soul hungered all-unknowing,
- With great truths its needs you satisfied:
- Now, a world-worn man, to you is owing
- That the child in me has never died.
- (_Translated from the Danish by Emilie Poulson._)
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[37] From “Studies of Childhood,” page 55.
-
-[38] I always remember the witty jibe of a chairman at my expense on
-this subject, who, when proposing a vote of thanks to me, asked whether
-I seriously approved of the idea of providing “wild-cat schemes” in
-order to bring romance into the lives of millionaires.
-
-[39] From The Lockerbie Book, by James Whitcomb Riley. Copyright 1911.
-Used by special permission of the publishers, the Bobbs-Merrill Company.
-
-[40] See Little Cousin Series in American collection of tales at the
-end of book.
-
-[41] From “Virginibus Puerisque and other Essays.”
-
-[42] See Longbow story, “John and the Pig.”
-
-[43] This is even a higher spirit than that shown in the advice given
-in the _Agamemnon_ (speaking of the victor's attitude after the taking
-of Troy):
-
- “Yea, let no craving for forbidden gain
- Bid conquerors yield before the darts of greed.”
-
-[44] The great war in which we have become involved since this book was
-written has furnished brilliant examples of these finer qualities.
-
-[45] It is curious to find that the story of “Puss-in-Boots” in its
-variants is sometimes presented with a moral, sometimes without. In the
-valley of the Ganges it has _none_. In Cashmere it has one moral, in
-Zanzibar another.
-
-[46] From “Childhood in Literature and Art.” Study of Hans C. Andersen,
-page 201.
-
-[47] “Sartor Resartus,” Book III, page 218.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VII.
-
-ON QUESTIONS ASKED BY TEACHERS.
-
-
-THE following questions have been put to me so often by teachers, in my
-own country and the States, that I have thought it might be useful to
-give in my book some of the attempts I have made to answer them; and
-I wish to record here an expression of gratitude to the teachers who
-have asked these questions at the close of my lectures. It has enabled
-me to formulate my views on the subject and to clear up, by means of
-research and thought, the reason for certain things which I had more or
-less taken for granted. It has also constantly modified my own point of
-view, and has prevented me from becoming too dogmatic in dealing with
-other people's methods.
-
- _Question I._ Why do I consider it necessary to spend so many years
- on the Art of Story-Telling, which takes in, after all, such a
- restricted portion of literature?
-
-Just in the same way that an actor thinks it worth while to go through
-so many years' training to fit him for the stage, although dramatic
-literature is also only one branch of general literature. The region of
-Storyland is the legitimate stage for children. They crave for drama
-as we do, and because there are comparatively few good story-tellers,
-children do not have their dramatic needs satisfied. What is the
-result? We either take them to dramatic performances for grown-up
-people, or we have children's theatres where the pieces, charming as
-they may be, are of necessity deprived of the essential elements which
-constitute a drama--or they are shrivelled up to suit the capacity of
-the child. Therefore it would seem wiser, whilst the children are quite
-young, to keep them to the simple presentation of stories, because,
-their imagination being keener at that period, they have the delight
-of the inner vision and they do not need, as we do, the artificial
-stimulus provided by the machinery of the stage.[48]
-
- _Question II._ What is to be done if a child asks you: Is a story
- true?
-
-I hope I shall not be considered Utopian in my ideas if I say that it
-is quite easy, even with small children, to teach them that the seeing
-of truth is a relative matter which depends on the eyes of the seer.
-If we were not afraid to tell our children that all through life there
-are grown-up people who do not see things that others see, their own
-difficulties would be helped.
-
-In his _Imagination Créatrice_, Queyrat says: “To get down into the
-recesses of a child's mind, one would have to become even as he is; we
-are reduced to interpreting that child in the terms of an adult. The
-children we observe live and grow in a civilised community, and the
-result of this is that the development of their imagination is rarely
-free or complete, for as soon as it rises beyond the average level, the
-rationalistic education of parents and schoolmasters at once endeavours
-to curb it. It is restrained in its flight by an antagonistic power
-which treats it as a kind of incipient madness.”
-
-It is quite easy to show children that if you keep things where they
-belong they are true with regard to each other, but that if you drag
-these things out of the shadowy atmosphere of the “make-believe,” and
-force them into the land of actual facts, the whole thing is out of
-gear.
-
-To take a concrete example: The arrival of the coach made from a
-pumpkin and driven by mice is entirely in harmony with the Cinderella
-surroundings, and I have never heard one child raise any question of
-the difficulty of travelling in such a coach or of the uncertainty
-of mice in drawing it. But suggest to the child that this diminutive
-vehicle could be driven among the cars of Broadway, or amongst the
-motor omnibuses in the Strand, and you would bring confusion at once
-into his mind.
-
-Having once grasped this, the children will lose the idea that Fairy
-Stories are just for them, and not for their elders, and from this they
-will go on to see that it is the child-like mind of the Poet and Seer
-that continues to appreciate these things: that it is the dull, heavy
-person whose eyes so soon become dim and unable to see any more the
-visions which were once his own.
-
-In his essay on _Poetry and Life_ (Glasgow, 1889), Professor Bradley
-says:
-
-“It is the effect of poetry, not only by expressing emotion but in
-other ways also, to bring life into the dead mass of our experience,
-and to make the world significant.”
-
-This applies to children as well as to adults. There may come to the
-child in the story-hour, by some stirring poem or dramatic narration,
-a sudden flash of the possibilities of Life which he had not hitherto
-realised in the even course of school experience.
-
-“Poetry,” says Professor Bradley, “is a way of representing truth;
-but there is in it, as its detractors have always insisted, a certain
-untruth or illusion. We need not deny this, so long as we remember
-that the illusion is conscious, that no one wishes to deceive, and
-that no one is deceived. But it would be better to say that poetry is
-false to literal fact for the sake of obtaining a higher truth. First,
-in order to represent the connection between a more significant part
-of experience and a less significant, poetry, instead of linking them
-together by a chain which touches one by one the intermediate objects
-that connect them, leaps from one to the other. It thus falls at once
-into conflict with commonsense.”
-
-Now, the whole of this passage bears as much on the question of the
-truth embodied in a Fairy Tale as a poem, and it would be interesting
-to take some of these tales and try to discover where they are false to
-actual fact for the sake of a higher truth.
-
-Let us take, for instance, the story of Cinderella: The coach and
-pumpkins to which we have alluded, and all the magic part of the story,
-are false to actual facts as we meet them in our every-day life; but
-is it not a higher truth that Cinderella could escape from her chimney
-corner by thinking of the brightness outside? In this sense we all
-travel in pumpkin coaches.
-
-Take the story of Psyche, in any one of the many forms it is presented
-to us in folk-story. The magic transformation of the lover is false
-to actual fact; but is it not a higher truth that we are often
-transformed by Circumstance, and that love and courage can overcome
-most difficulties?
-
-Take the story of the Three Bears. It is not in accordance with
-established fact that bears should extend hospitality to children
-who invade their territory. Is it not true, in a higher sense, that
-fearlessness often lessens or averts danger?
-
-Take the story of Jack and the Bean-Stalk. The rapid growth of the
-bean-stalk and the encounter with the Giant are false to literal fact;
-but is it not a higher truth that the spirit of courage and high
-adventure leads us straight out of the commonplace and often sordid
-facts of Life?
-
-Now, all these considerations are too subtle for the child, and, if
-offered in explanation, would destroy the excitement and interest
-of the story; but they are good for those of us who are presenting
-such stories: they not only provide an argument against the objection
-raised by unimaginative people as to the futility, if not immorality,
-of presenting these primitive tales, but clear up our own doubt and
-justify us in the use of them, if we need such justification.
-
-For myself, I am perfectly satisfied that, being part of the history
-of primitive people, it would be foolish to ignore them from an
-evolutionary point of view, which constitutes their chief importance;
-and it is only from the point of view of expediency that I mention the
-potential truths they contain.
-
- _Question III._ What are you to do if a child says he does not like
- Fairy Tales?
-
-This is not an uncommon case. What we have first to determine, under
-these circumstances, is whether this dislike springs from a stolid,
-prosaic nature, whether it springs from a real inability to visualize
-such pictures as the Fairy, or marvellous element in the story,
-presents, or whether (and this is often the real reason) it is from a
-fear of being asked to believe what his judgment resents as untrue, or
-whether he thinks it is “grown-up” to reject such pleasure as unworthy
-of his years.
-
-In the first case, it is wise to persevere, in hopes of developing the
-dormant imagination. If the child resents the apparent want of truth,
-we can teach him how many-sided truth is, as I suggested in my answer
-to the first question. In the other cases, we must try to make it
-clear that the delight he may venture to take now will increase, not
-decrease, with years; that the more you bring _to_ a thing (in the way
-of experience and knowledge) the more you will draw _out_ of it.
-
-Let us take as a concrete example the question of Santa Claus. This
-joy has almost disappeared, for we have torn away the last shred of
-mystery about that personage by allowing him to be materialised in the
-Christmas shops and bazaars.
-
-But the original myth need never have disappeared; the link could
-easily have been kept by gradually telling the child that the Santa
-Claus they worshipped as a mysterious and invisible power is nothing
-but the Spirit of Charity and Kindness that makes us remember others,
-and that this spirit often takes the form of material gifts. We can
-also lead them a step higher and show them that this spirit of kindness
-can do more than provide material things; so that the old nursery tale
-has laid a beautiful foundation which need never be pulled up: we can
-build upon it and add to it all through our lives.
-
-Is not _one_ of the reasons that children reject Fairy Tales because
-such very _poor_ material is offered them? There is a dreary flatness
-about all except the very best which revolts the child of literary
-appreciation and would fail to strike a spark in the more prosaic.
-
- _Question IV._ Do I recommend learning a story by heart, or telling
- it in one's own words?
-
-This would largely depend on the kind of story. If the style is classic
-or if the interest of the story is closely connected with the style,
-as in Andersen, Kipling or Stevenson, then it is better to commit it
-absolutely to memory. But if this process should take too long (I mean
-for those who cannot afford the time to specialise), or if it produces
-a stilted effect, then it is wiser to read the story many times over,
-let it soak in, taking notes of certain passages which would add to the
-dramatic interest of the story, and not trouble about the word accuracy
-of the whole.
-
-For instance, for very young children the story of Pandora, as told
-in the Wonder-Book, could be shortened so as to leave principally the
-dramatic dialogue between the two children, which would be easily
-committed to memory by the narrator and would appeal most directly
-to the children. Again, for older children: in taking a beautiful
-mediæval story such as “Our Lady's Tumbler,” the original text could
-hardly be presented so as to hold an audience; but whilst giving up a
-great deal of the elaborate material, we should try to present many of
-the characteristic passages which seem to sum up the situation. For
-instance, before his performance, the Tumbler cries: “What am I doing?
-For there is none here so caitiff but who vies with all the rest in
-serving God after his trade.” And after his act of devotion: “Lady,
-this is a choice performance. I do it for no other but for you; so aid
-me God, I do not--for you and for your Son. And this I dare avouch and
-boast, that for me it is no play-work. But I am serving you, and that
-pays me.”
-
-On the other hand, there are some very gifted narrators who can only
-tell the story in their own words. I consider that both methods are
-necessary to the all-round story-teller.
-
- _Question V._ How do I set about preparing a story?
-
-Here again the preparation depends a great deal on the kind of story:
-whether it has to be committed to memory or re-arranged to suit a
-certain age of child, or told entirely in one's own words. But there
-is one kind of preparation which is the same for any story, that is,
-living with it for a long time, until you have really obtained the
-right atmosphere, and then bringing the characters actually to life
-in this atmosphere, most especially in the case of inanimate objects.
-This is where Hans C. Andersen reigns supreme. Horace Scudder says of
-him: “By some transmigration, souls have passed into tin soldiers,
-balls, tops, money-pigs, coins, shoes and even such attenuated things
-as darning-needles, and when, in forming these apparent dead and stupid
-bodies, they begin to make manifestations, it is always in perfect
-consistency with the ordinary conditions of the bodies they occupy,
-though the several objects become, by the endowment of souls, suddenly
-expanded in their capacity.”[49]
-
-Now, my test of being ready with such stories is whether I have ceased
-to look upon such objects _as_ inanimate. Let us take some of those
-quoted from Andersen. First, the Tin Soldier. To me, since I have lived
-in the story, he is a real live hero, holding his own with some of the
-bravest fighting heroes in history or fiction. As for his being merely
-of tin, I entirely forget it, except when I realise against what odds
-he fights, or when I stop to admire the wonderful way Andersen carries
-out his simile of the old tin spoon--the stiffness of the musket, and
-the tears of tin.
-
-Take the Top and the Ball, and, except for the delightful way they
-discuss the respective merits of _cork_ and _mahogany_ in their
-ancestors, you would completely forget that they are not real human
-beings with the live passions and frailties common to youth.
-
-As for the Beetle--who ever thinks of him as a mere entomological
-specimen? Is he not the symbol of the self-satisfied traveller who
-learns nothing _en route_ but the importance of his own personality?
-And the Darning-Needle? It is impossible to divorce human interest from
-the ambition of this little piece of steel.
-
-And this same method applied to the preparation of any story shows that
-you can sometimes rise from the rôle of mere interpreter to that of
-creator--that is to say, the objects live afresh for you in response to
-the appeal you make in recognising their possibilities of vitality.
-
-As a mere practical suggestion, I would advise that, as soon as you
-have overcome the difficulties of the text (if actually learning by
-heart, there is nothing but the drudgery of constant repetition), and
-as you begin to work the story into true dramatic form, always say the
-words aloud, and many times aloud, before you try them even on one
-person. More suggestions come to one in the way of effects from hearing
-the sounds of the words, and more complete mental pictures, in this
-way than any other ... it is a sort of testing period, the results of
-which may or may not have to be modified when produced in public....
-In case of committing to memory, I advise word perfection first, not
-trying dramatic effects before this is reached; but, on the other hand,
-if you are using your own words, you can think out the effects as you
-go along--I mean, during the preparation. Gestures, pauses, facial
-expression often help to fix the choice of words you decide to use,
-though here again the public performance will often modify the result.
-I should strongly advise that all gestures should be studied before the
-glass, because this most faithfully-recording friend, whose sincerity
-we dare not question, will prevent glaring errors, and also help by the
-correction of these to more satisfactory results along positive lines.
-If your gesture does not satisfy (and practice will make you more and
-more critical), it is generally because you have not made sufficient
-allowance for the power of imagination in your audience. Emphasis in
-gesture is just as inartistic--and therefore ineffective--as emphasis
-in tone or language.
-
-Before _deciding_, however, either on the facial expression or gesture,
-we must consider the chief characters in the story, and study how we
-can best--_not_ present them, but allow them to present themselves,
-which is a very different thing. The greatest tribute which can be
-paid to a story-teller, as to an actor, is that his own personality is
-temporarily forgotten, because he has so completely identified himself
-with his rôle.
-
-When we have decided what the chief characters really mean to do, we
-can let ourselves go in the impersonation....
-
-I shall now take a story as a concrete example--namely, the Buddhist
-legend of the Lion and the Hare,[50] which I give in the final story
-list.
-
-We have here the Lion and the Hare as types--the other animals are
-less individual and therefore display less salient qualities. The
-little hare's chief characteristics are nervousness, fussiness and
-misdirected imagination. We must bear this all in mind when she appears
-on the stage--fortunately these characteristics lend themselves easily
-to dramatic representation. The lion is not only large-hearted but
-broad-minded. It is good to have an opportunity of presenting to
-the children a lion who has other qualities than physical beauty or
-extraordinary strength. (Here again there will lurk the danger of
-alarming the Nature students!) He is even more interesting than the
-magnanimous lion whom we have sometimes been privileged to meet in
-fiction.
-
-Of course we grown-up people know that the lion is the Buddha in
-disguise. Children will not be able to realise this, nor is it the
-least necessary that they should do so; but they will grasp the
-idea that he is a very unusual lion, not to be met with in Paul du
-Chaillu's adventures, still less in the quasi-domestic atmosphere of
-the Zoological Gardens. If our presentation is life-like and sincere,
-we shall convey all we intend to the child. This is part of what I call
-the atmosphere of the story, which, as in a photograph, can only be
-obtained by long exposure, that is to say, in case of the preparation
-we must bestow much reflection and sympathy.
-
-Because these two animals are the chief characters, they must stand
-out in sharp outline: the other animals must be painted in fainter
-colours--they should be suggested rather than presented in detail.
-It might be as well to give a definite gesture to the Elephant--say,
-a characteristic movement with his trunk--a scowl to the Tiger, a
-supercilious and enigmatic smile to the Camel (suggested by Kipling's
-wonderful creation). But if a gesture were given to each of the
-animals, the effect would become monotonous, and the minor characters
-would crowd the foreground of the picture, impeding the action and
-leaving little to the imagination of the audience.... I personally have
-found it effective to repeat the gestures of these animals as they are
-leaving the stage, less markedly, as it is only a form of reminder.
-
-Now, what is the impression we wish to leave on the mind of the child,
-apart from the dramatic joy and interest we have endeavoured to
-provide? Surely it is that he may realise the danger of a panic. One
-method of doing this (alas! a favourite one still) is to say at the
-end of the story: “Now, children, what do we learn from this?” Of this
-method Lord Morley has said: “It is a commonplace to the wise, and an
-everlasting puzzle to the foolish, that direct inculcation of morals
-should invariably prove so powerless an instrument--so futile a method.”
-
-If this direct method were really effective, we might as well put the
-little drama aside, and say plainly: “It is foolish to be nervous; it
-is dangerous to make loose statements. Large-minded people understand
-things better than those who are narrow-minded.”
-
-Now, all these abstract statements would be as true and as tiresome as
-the multiplication-table. The child might or might not fix them in his
-mind, but he would not act upon them.
-
-But, put all the artistic warmth of which you are capable into the
-presentation of the story, and, without one word of comment from you,
-the children will feel the dramatic intensity of that vast concourse of
-animals brought together by the feeble utterance of one irresponsible
-little hare. Let them feel the dignity and calm of the Lion, which
-accounts for his authority; his tender but firm treatment of the
-foolish little Hare; and listen to the glorious finale when all
-the animals retire convinced of their folly; and you will find that
-you have adopted the same method as the Lion (who must have been an
-unconscious follower of Froebel), and that there is nothing to add to
-the picture.
-
- _Question VI._ Is it wise to talk over a story with children and to
- encourage them in the habit of asking questions about it?
-
-At the time, no! The effect produced is to be by dramatic means,
-and this would be destroyed by any attempts at analysis by means of
-questions.
-
-The medium that has been used in the telling of the story is (or ought
-to be) a purely artistic one which will reach the child through the
-medium of the emotions: the appeal to the intellect or the reason is
-a different method, which must be used at a different time. When you
-are enjoying the fragrance of a flower or the beauty of its colour, it
-is not the moment to be reminded of its botanical classification. Just
-as in the botany lesson it would be somewhat irrelevant to talk of the
-part that flowers play in the happiness of life.
-
-From a practical point of view, it is not wise to encourage questions
-on the part of the children, because they are apt to disturb the
-atmosphere by bringing in entirely irrelevant matter, so that in
-looking back on the telling of the story, the child often remembers the
-irrelevant conversation to the exclusion of the dramatic interest of
-the story itself.[51]
-
-I remember once making what I considered at the time a most effective
-appeal to some children who had been listening to the story of the
-Little Tin Soldier, and, unable to refrain from the cheap method of
-questioning, of which I have now recognised the futility, I asked:
-“Don't you think it was nice of the little dancer to rush down into the
-fire to join the brave little soldier?” “Well,” said a prosaic little
-lad of six: “I thought the draught carried her down.”
-
- _Question VII._ Is it wise to call upon children to repeat the
- story as soon as it has been told?
-
-My answer here is decidedly in the negative.
-
-Whilst fully appreciating the modern idea of children expressing
-themselves, I very much deprecate this so-called self-expression taking
-the form of mere reproduction. I have dealt with this matter in detail
-in another portion of my book. This is one of the occasions when
-children should be taking in, not giving out. (Even the most fanatic of
-moderns must agree that there are such moments.)
-
-When, after much careful preparation, an expert has told a story to the
-best of his ability, to encourage the children to reproduce this story
-with their imperfect vocabulary and with no special gift of speech (I
-am always alluding to the normal group of children) is as futile as
-if, after the performance of a musical piece by a great artist, some
-individual member of the audience were to be called upon to give his
-rendering of the original rendering. The result would be that the
-musical joy of the audience would be completely destroyed and the
-performer himself would share in the loss.[52]
-
-I have always maintained that five minutes of complete silence after
-the story would do more to fix the impression on the mind of the child
-than any amount of attempts at reproducing it. The general statement
-made in Dr. Montessori's wonderful chapter on Silence would seem to me
-of special application to the moments following on the telling of a
-story.
-
- _Question VIII._ Should children be encouraged to illustrate the
- stories which they have heard?
-
-As a dramatic interest to the teachers and the children, I think it
-is a very praiseworthy experiment, if used somewhat sparingly. But I
-seriously doubt whether these illustrations in any way indicate the
-impression made on the mind of the child. It is the same question
-that arises when that child is called upon (or expresses a wish) to
-reproduce the story in his own words: the unfamiliar medium in both
-instances makes it almost impossible for the child to convey his
-meaning, unless he be an artist in the one case or have real literary
-power of expression in the other.
-
-My own impression, which has been confirmed by many teachers who
-have made the experiment, is that a certain amount of disappointment
-is mixed up with the daring joy in the attempt, simply because the
-children can get nowhere near the ideal which has presented itself to
-the “inner eye.”
-
-I remember a Kindergarten mistress saying that on one occasion, when
-she had told to the class a thrilling story of a knight, one of the
-children immediately asked for permission to draw a picture of him
-on the blackboard. So spontaneous a request could not, of course, be
-refused, and, full of assurance, the would-be artist began to give his
-impression of the knight's appearance. When the picture was finished,
-the child stood back for a moment to judge for himself of the result.
-He put down the chalk and said sadly: “And I _thought_ he was so
-handsome.”
-
-Nevertheless, except for the drawback of the other children seeing a
-picture which might be inferior to their own mental vision, I should
-quite approve of such experiments as long as they are not taken as
-literal data of what the children have really received. It would,
-however, be better not to have the picture drawn on a blackboard but at
-the child's private desk, to be seen by the teacher and not, unless the
-picture were exceptionally good, to be shown to the other children.
-
-One of the best effects of such an experiment would be to show a child
-how difficult it is to give the impression he wishes to record, and
-which would enable him later on to appreciate the beauty of such work
-in the hands of a finished artist.
-
-I can anticipate the jeers with which such remarks would be received by
-the Futurist School, but, according to their own theory, I ought to be
-allowed to express the matter _as I see it_, however faulty the vision
-may appear to them.[53]
-
- _Question IX._ In what way can the dramatic method of story-telling
- be used in ordinary class teaching?
-
-This is too large a question to answer fully in so general a survey as
-this work, but I should like to give one or two concrete examples as to
-how the element of story-telling could be introduced.
-
-I have always thought that the only way in which we could make either a
-history or literature lesson live, so that it should take a real hold
-on the mind of the pupil at any age, would be that, instead of offering
-lists of events, crowded into the fictitious area of one reign, one
-should take a single event, say in one lesson out of five, and give
-it in the most splendid language and in the most dramatic (not to be
-confused with “melodramatic”) manner.
-
-To come to a concrete example: Supposing that you are talking to the
-class of Greece, either in connection with its history, its geography
-or its literature, could any mere accumulation of facts give a clearer
-idea of the life of the people than a dramatically told story from
-Homer, Æschylus, Sophocles or Euripides?
-
-What in the history of Iceland could give a more graphic idea of the
-whole character of the life and customs of the inhabitants than one
-of the famous sagas, such as “The Burning of Njal” or “The Death of
-Gunnar”?
-
-In teaching the history of Spain, what could make the pupils understand
-better the spirit of knight-errantry, its faults and its qualities,
-than a recital from “Don Quixote” or from the tale of “The Cid”?
-
-In a word, the stories must appeal so vividly to the imagination that
-they will light up the whole period of history which we wish them to
-illustrate, and keep it in the memory for all time.
-
-But apart from the dramatic presentation of history, there are great
-possibilities for introducing the short story into the portrait of
-some great personage: a story which, though it may be insignificant in
-itself, throws a sudden sidelight on his character, and reveals the
-mind behind the actual deeds; this is what I mean by using the dramatic
-method.
-
-To take a concrete example: Supposing, in giving an account of the
-life of Napoleon, after enlarging on his campaigns, his European
-policy, his indomitable will, you were suddenly to give an idea of his
-many-sidedness by relating how he actually found time to compile a
-catechism which was used for some years in the elementary schools in
-France!
-
-What sidelights might be thrown in this way on such characters as Nero,
-Cæsar, Henry VIII, Luther, Goethe!
-
-To take one example from these: Instead of making the whole career
-of Henry VIII centre round the fact that he was a much-married man,
-could we not present his artistic side and speak of his charming
-contributions to music?....
-
-So much for the history lessons. But could not the dramatic form and
-interest be introduced into our geography lessons? Think of the romance
-of the Panama Canal, the position of Constantinople as affecting
-the history of Europe, the shape of Greece, England as an Island,
-the position of Tibet, the interior of Africa--to what wonderful
-story-telling would these themes lend themselves!
-
- _Question X._ Which should predominate in the story--the dramatic
- or the poetic element?
-
-This is a much debated point. From experience, I have come to the
-conclusion that, though both should be found in the whole range of
-stories, the dramatic element should prevail from the very nature of
-the presentation, and also because it reaches the larger number of
-children (at least of normal children). Almost every child is dramatic,
-in the sense that he loves action (not necessarily an action in which
-he has to bear a part). It is the exceptional child who is reached by
-the poetic side, and just as on the stage the action must be quicker
-and more concentrated than in a poem--even than a dramatic poem--so
-it must be with the story. Children act out in their imagination the
-dramatic or actable part of the story--the poetical side, which must
-be painted in more delicate colours or presented in less obvious form,
-often escapes them. Of course the very reason why we must include the
-poetical element is that it is an unexpressed need of most children.
-Their need of the dramatic is more loudly proclaimed and more easily
-satisfied.
-
- _Question XI._ What is the educational value of Humour in the
- stories told to our children?
-
-My answer to this is that Humour means much more than is usually
-understood by this term. So many people seem to think that to have a
-sense of humour is merely to be tickled by a funny element in a story.
-It surely means something much more subtle than this. It is Thackeray
-who says: “If Humour only meant Laughter ... but the Humourist
-professes to awaken and direct your love, your pity, your kindness,
-your scorn for untruth and pretention, your tenderness for the weak,
-the poor, the oppressed, the unhappy.” So that, in our stories, the
-introduction of humour should not merely depend on the doubtful
-amusement that follows on a sense of incongruity. It should inculcate
-a sense of proportion brought about by an effort of imagination:
-it shows a child its real position in the Universe, and prevents
-an exaggerated idea of his own importance. It develops the logical
-faculty, and prevents hasty conclusions. It shortens the period of joy
-in horseplay and practical jokes. It brings about a clearer perception
-of all situations, enabling the child to get the point of view of
-another person. It is the first instilling of philosophy into the mind
-of a child, and prevents much suffering later on when the blows of life
-fall upon him; for a sense of humour teaches us at an early age not to
-expect too much; and this philosophy can be developed without cynicism
-or pessimism, without even destroying the _joie de vivre_....
-
-One cannot, however, sufficiently emphasize the fact that these
-far-reaching results can only be brought about by humour quite distinct
-from the broader fun and hilarity which have also their use in an
-educational scheme.
-
-From my own experience, I have learned that development of Humour
-is with most children extremely slow. It is quite natural and quite
-right that at first pure fun, obvious situations and elementary jokes
-should please them, but we can very gradually appeal to something more
-subtle, and if I were asked what story would educate our children most
-thoroughly in appreciation of Humour, I should say that “Alice in
-Wonderland” was the most effective.
-
-What better object-lesson could be given in humorous form of taking
-somebody else's point of view than that given to Alice by the Mock
-Turtle in speaking of the Whiting?:
-
-“‘You know what they're like?’
-
-‘I believe so,’ said Alice. ‘They have their tails in their mouths--and
-they're all over crumbs.’
-
-‘You're wrong about the crumbs,’ said the Mock Turtle. 'Crumbs would
-all wash off in the sea.'”
-
-Or when Alice is speaking to the Mouse of her Cat, and says: “She is
-such a dear quiet thing--and a capital one for catching mice----”
-and then suddenly realises the point of view of the Mouse, who was
-“trembling down to the end of its tail.”
-
-Then, as an instance of how a lack of humour leads to illogical
-conclusions (a condition common to most children), we have the
-conversation between Alice and the Pigeon:
-
-ALICE: “But little girls eat quite as much as serpents do, you know.”
-
-PIGEON: “I don't believe it. But if they do, why then they're a kind of
-serpent, that's all I can say.”
-
-Then, as an instance of how a sense of humour would prevent too much
-self-importance:
-
-“‘I have a right to think,’ said Alice sharply.
-
-‘Just about as much right,’ said the Duchess, 'as pigs have to fly.'”
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[48] I do not deny that there can be charming representations of this
-kind. Miss Netta Syrett has given a triplet of plays at the Court
-Theatre which were entirely on the plane of the child; but these
-performances were somewhat exceptional.
-
-[49] From “Study of Hans C. Andersen.”
-
-[50] See “Eastern Stories and Fables,” published by Routledge.
-
-[51] See Chapter I.
-
-[52] In this matter I have, in England, the support of Dr. Kimmins,
-Chief Inspector of the London County Council, who is strongly opposed
-to immediate reproduction of the stories.
-
-[53] Needless to say that these remarks only refer to the
-illustrations of stories told. Whether children should be encouraged to
-self-expression in drawing (quite apart from reproducing in one medium
-what has been conveyed to them in another), is too large a question to
-deal with in this special work on Story-Telling.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VIII.
-
-STORIES IN FULL.
-
-
-THE following three stories have for so long formed a part of my
-repertory that I have been requested to include them in my book, and,
-in order to associate myself more completely with them, I am presenting
-a translation of my own from the original Danish version.
-
-
-THE NIGHTINGALE.
-
-You must know that in China the Emperor is a Chinaman, and all those
-around him are also Chinamen. It is many years since all this happened,
-and for that very reason it is worth hearing, before it is forgotten.
-
-There was no palace in the world more beautiful than the Emperor's;
-it was very costly, all of fine porcelain, but it was so delicate and
-brittle, that it was very difficult to touch, and you had to be very
-careful in doing so. The most wonderful flowers could be seen in the
-garden, and silver tinkling bells were tied on to the most beautiful
-of these, for fear people should pass by without noticing them. How
-well everything had been thought out in the Emperor's garden--which was
-so big, that even the gardener himself did not know how big. If you
-walked on and on you came to the most beautiful wood, with tall trees
-and deep lakes. This wood stretched right down to the sea, which was
-blue and deep; great ships could pass underneath the branches, and in
-these branches a nightingale had made its home, and its singing was so
-entrancing that the poor fisherman, though he had so many other things
-to do, would lie still and listen when he was out at night drawing in
-his nets.
-
-“Heavens! how lovely that is!” he said: but then he was forced to think
-about his own affairs, and the nightingale was forgotten; but the next
-day, when it sang again, the fisherman said the same thing: “Heavens!
-how lovely that is!”
-
-Travellers from all the countries of the world came to the Emperor's
-town, and expressed their admiration for the palace and the garden, but
-when they heard the nightingale, they all said in one breath: “That is
-the best of all!”
-
-Now, when these travellers came home, they told of what they had seen.
-The scholars wrote many books about the town, the palace and the
-garden, but nobody left the nightingale out: it was always spoken of as
-the most wonderful of all they had seen, and those who had the gift of
-the Poet wrote the most delightful poems all about the nightingale in
-the wood near the deep lake.
-
-The books went round the world, and in course of time some of them
-reached the Emperor. He sat in his golden chair, and read and read,
-nodding his head every minute; for it pleased him to read the beautiful
-descriptions of the town, the palace and the garden; and then he found
-in the book the following words: “But the Nightingale is the best of
-all.”
-
-“What is this?” said the Emperor. “The nightingale! I know nothing
-whatever about it. To think of there being such a bird in my
-Kingdom--nay, in my very garden--and I have never heard it! And one has
-to learn of such a thing for the first time from a book!”
-
-Then he summoned his Lord-in-Waiting, who was such a grand creature
-that if any one inferior in rank ventured to speak to him, or ask him
-about anything, he merely uttered the sound “P,” which meant nothing
-whatever.
-
-“There is said to be a most wonderful bird, called the Nightingale,”
-said the Emperor; “they say it is the best thing in my great Kingdom.
-Why have I been told nothing about it?”
-
-“I have never heard it mentioned before,” said the Lord-in-Waiting. “It
-has certainly never been presented at court.”
-
-“It is my good pleasure that it shall appear here to-night and sing
-before me!” said the Emperor. “The whole world knows what is mine, and
-I myself do not know it.”
-
-“I have never heard it mentioned before,” said the Lord-in-Waiting. “I
-will seek it, and I shall find it.”
-
-But where was it to be found? The Lord-in-Waiting ran up and down all
-the stairs, through the halls and the passages, but not one of all
-those whom he met had ever heard a word about the Nightingale. The
-Lord-in-Waiting ran back to the Emperor and told him that it must
-certainly be a fable invented by writers of books.
-
-“Your Majesty must not believe all that is written in books. It is pure
-invention, besides something which is called the Black Art.”
-
-“But,” said the Emperor, “the book in which I read this was sent to
-me by His Majesty the Emperor of Japan, and therefore this cannot be
-a falsehood. I insist on hearing the Nightingale: it must appear this
-evening. It has my gracious favour, and if it fails to appear, the
-court shall be trampled upon after the court has supped.”
-
-“Tsing-pe!” said the Lord-in-Waiting, and again he ran up and down all
-the stairs, through all the halls and passages, and half the court ran
-with him, for they had no wish to be trampled upon. And many questions
-were asked about the wonderful Nightingale of whom all had heard except
-those who lived at court.
-
-At last, they met a poor little girl in the kitchen. She said:
-“Heavens! The Nightingale! I know it well! Yes, how it can sing! Every
-evening I have permission to take the broken pieces from the table
-to my poor sick mother who lives near the seashore, and on my way
-back, when I feel tired and rest a while in the wood, then I hear the
-Nightingale sing, and my eyes are filled with tears: it is just as if
-my mother kissed me.”
-
-“Little kitchen-girl,” said the Lord-in-Waiting, “I will get a
-permanent position for you in the Court Kitchen and permission to see
-the Emperor dine, if you can lead us to the Nightingale; for it has
-received orders to appear at Court to-night.”
-
-So they started off all together for the wood where the bird was wont
-to sing: half the court went too. They were going along at a good pace
-when suddenly they heard a cow lowing.
-
-“Oh,” said a court-page. “There you have it. That is a wonderful power
-for so small a creature! I have certainly heard it before.”
-
-“No, those are the cows lowing,” said the little kitchen girl. “We are
-a long way from the place yet.”
-
-And then the frogs began to croak in the pond.
-
-“Beautiful,” said the Court Preacher. “Now, I hear it--it is just like
-little church bells.”
-
-“No, those are the frogs,” said the little Kitchen maid. “But now I
-think that we shall soon hear it.”
-
-And then the Nightingale began to sing.
-
-“There it is,” said the little girl. “Listen, listen--there it sits.”
-And she pointed to a little grey bird in the branches.
-
-“Is it possible!” said the Lord-in-Waiting. “I had never supposed it
-would look like that. How very plain it looks! It has certainly lost
-its colour from seeing so many grand folk around it.”
-
-“Little Nightingale,” called out the little Kitchen girl, “our gracious
-Emperor would be so glad if you would sing for him.”
-
-“With the greatest pleasure,” said the Nightingale. It sang, and it was
-a joy to hear it.
-
-“Just like little glass bells,” said the Lord-in-Waiting; “and just
-look at the little throat, how active it is! It is astonishing to think
-we have never heard it before! It will have a real _success_ at Court.”
-
-“Shall I sing for the Emperor again?” said the Nightingale, who thought
-that the Emperor was there in person.
-
-“Mine excellent little Nightingale,” said the Lord-in-Waiting, “I have
-the great pleasure of bidding you to a Court-Festival this night, when
-you will enchant His Imperial Majesty with your delightful warbling.”
-
-“My voice sounds better among the green trees,” said the Nightingale.
-But it came willingly when it knew that the Emperor wished it.
-
-There was a great deal of furbishing up at the Palace. The walls and
-ceiling, which were of porcelain, shone with a light of a thousand
-golden lamps. The most beautiful flowers of the tinkling kind were
-placed in the passages. There was running to and fro, and a thorough
-draught. But that is just what made the bells ring: one could not
-oneself. In the middle of the large hall where the Emperor sat, a
-golden rod had been set up on which the Nightingale was to perch. The
-whole Court was present, and the little Kitchen-maid was allowed to
-stand behind the door, for she had now the actual title of a Court
-Kitchen Maid. All were there in their smartest clothes, and they all
-looked towards the little grey bird to which the Emperor nodded.
-
-And the Nightingale sang so delightfully that tears sprang into the
-Emperor's eyes and rolled down his cheeks; and then the Nightingale
-sang even more beautifully. The song went straight to the heart, and
-the Emperor was so delighted that he declared that the Nightingale
-should have his golden slipper to hang round its neck. But the
-Nightingale declined. It had already had its reward.
-
-“I have seen tears in the Emperor's eyes. That to me is the richest
-tribute. An Emperor's tears have a wonderful power. God knows my reward
-is great enough,” and again its sweet, glorious voice was heard.
-
-“That is the most delightful coquetting I have ever known,” said the
-ladies sitting round, and they took water into their mouths, in order
-to gurgle when anyone spoke to them, and they really thought they were
-like the Nightingale. Even the footmen and the chambermaids sent word
-that they, too, were satisfied, and that means a great deal, for these
-are the people whom it is most difficult to please. There was no doubt
-as to the Nightingale's success. It was sure to stay at Court, and
-have its own cage, with liberty to go out twice in the daytime, and
-once at night. Twelve servants went out with it, and each held a silk
-ribbon which was tied to the bird's leg, and they held it very tightly.
-There was not much pleasure in going out under those conditions. The
-whole town was talking of the wonderful bird, and when two people met,
-one said: “Nightin-” and the other said “gale,” and they sighed and
-understood one another. Eleven cheese-mongers' children were called
-after the bird, though none of them had a note in his voice. One day
-a large parcel came for the Emperor. Outside was written the word:
-“Nightingale.”
-
-“Here we have a new book about our wonderful bird,” said the Emperor.
-But it was not a book; it was a little work of art which lay in a
-box--an artificial Nightingale, which was supposed to look like the
-real one, but it was set in diamonds, rubies and sapphires. As soon as
-you wound it up, it could sing one of the pieces which the real bird
-sang, and its tail moved up and down and glittered with silver and
-gold. Round its neck was a ribbon on which was written: “The Emperor of
-Japan's Nightingale is miserable compared with the Emperor of China's.”
-
-“That is delightful,” they all said, and on the messenger who had
-brought the artificial bird they bestowed the title of “Imperial
-Nightingale-Bringer-in-Chief.”
-
-“Let them sing together, and _what_ a duet that will be!”
-
-And so they had to sing, but the thing would not work, because the
-real Nightingale could only sing in its own way, and the artificial
-Nightingale could only play by clock-work.
-
-“That is not its fault,” said the Band Master. “Time is its strong
-point, and it has quite my method.”
-
-Then the artificial Nightingale had to sing alone. It had just as much
-success as the real bird, and then it was so much handsomer to look at:
-it glittered like bracelets and breast-pins. It sang the same tune
-three and thirty times, and it was still not tired: the people would
-willingly have listened to the whole performance over again from the
-start. But the Emperor suggested that the real Nightingale should sing
-for a while. But where was it? Nobody had noticed that it had flown out
-of the open window back to its green woods.
-
-“But what is the meaning of all this?” said the Emperor. All the
-courtiers upbraided the Nightingale and said that it was a most
-ungrateful creature.
-
-“We have the better of the two,” they said, and the artificial
-Nightingale had to sing again, and this was the thirty-fourth time
-they heard the same tune. But they did not know it properly even then,
-because it was so difficult, and the bandmaster praised the wonderful
-bird in the highest terms, and even asserted that it was superior to
-the real bird, not only as regarded the outside, with the many lovely
-diamonds, but also the inside as well.
-
-“You see, ladies and gentlemen, and above all your Imperial Majesty,
-that with the real Nightingale, you can never predict what may happen,
-but with the artificial bird, everything is settled upon beforehand; so
-it remains and it cannot be changed. One can account for it. One can
-rip it open and show the human ingenuity, explaining how the cylinders
-lie, how they work, and how one thing is the result of another.”
-
-“That is just what we think,” they all exclaimed, and the Bandmaster
-received permission to exhibit the bird to the people on the following
-Sunday. The Emperor said they were to hear it sing. They listened, and
-were as much delighted as if they had been drunk with tea, which is
-a thoroughly Chinese habit, and they all said “Oh!” and stuck their
-forefingers in the air, and nodded their heads. But the poor Fisherman
-who had heard the real Nightingale, said: “It sounds quite well, and a
-little like it, but there is something missing. I do not know what it
-is.”
-
-The real Nightingale was banished from the Kingdom. The artificial bird
-had its place on a silken cushion close to the Emperor's bed. All the
-presents it had received, the gold and precious stones, lay all round
-it, and it had been honoured with the title of High Imperial Bedroom
-Singer--in the first rank, on the left side, for even the Emperor
-considered that side the grander on which the heart is placed, and
-even an Emperor has his heart on the left side. The Bandmaster wrote
-twenty-five volumes about the wonderful artificial bird. The book was
-very learned and very long, filled with the most difficult words in the
-Chinese language, and everybody said that he had read it and understood
-it, for otherwise he would have been considered stupid, and would have
-been trampled upon.
-
-And thus a whole year passed away. The Emperor, the Court and all the
-other Chinese knew every little gurgle in the artificial bird's song,
-and just for this reason, they were all the better pleased with it.
-They could sing it themselves--which they did. The boys in the street
-sang “zizizi” and “cluck, cluck,” and even the Emperor sang it. Yes, it
-was certainly beautiful. But one evening, while the bird was singing,
-and the Emperor lay in bed listening to it, there was a whirring sound
-inside the bird, and something whizzed; all the wheels ran round, and
-the music stopped. The Emperor sprang out of bed and sent for the Court
-Physician, but what could he do? Then they sent for the watch-maker,
-and after much talk and examination, he patched the bird up, but he
-said it must be spared as much as possible, because the hammers were
-so worn out and he could not put new ones in so that the music could
-be counted on. This was a great grief. The bird could only be allowed
-to sing once a year, and even that was risky, but on these occasions
-the Bandmaster would make a little speech, introducing difficult words,
-saying the bird was as good as it ever had been: and that was true.
-
-Five years passed away, and a great sorrow had come over the land. The
-people all really cared for their Emperor: now he was ill and it was
-said he could not live. A new Emperor had been chosen, and the people
-stood about the streets, and questioned the Lord-in-Waiting about their
-Emperor's condition.
-
-“P!” he said, and shook his head.
-
-The Emperor lay pale and cold on his great, gorgeous bed: the whole
-Court believed that he was dead, and they all hastened to pay homage to
-the new Emperor. The footmen hurried off to discuss matters, and the
-chambermaids gave a great coffee party. Cloth had been laid down in
-all the rooms and passages, so that not a footstep should be heard and
-it was all fearfully quiet. But the Emperor was not yet dead. He lay
-stiff and pale in the sumptuous bed, with its long, velvet curtains,
-and the heavy gold tassels: just above was an open window, and the moon
-shone in upon the Emperor and the artificial bird. The poor Emperor
-could hardly breathe: it was as if something were weighing him down:
-he opened his eyes and saw it was Death, sitting on his chest, wearing
-his golden crown, holding in one hand the golden sword, and in the
-other the splendid banner: and from the folds of the velvet curtains
-strange faces peered forth, some terrible to look on, others mild and
-friendly: these were the Emperor's good and bad deeds, which gazed upon
-him now that Death sat upon his heart.
-
-“Do you remember this?” whispered one after the other. “Do you remember
-that?” They told him so much that the sweat poured down his face.
-
-“I never knew that,” said the Emperor. “Play music! music! Beat the
-great Chinese drum!” he called out, “so that I may not hear what they
-are saying!”
-
-But they kept on, and Death nodded his head, like a Chinaman, at
-everything they said.
-
-“Music, music,” cried the Emperor. “You little precious bird! Sing to
-me, ah! sing to me! I have given you gold and costly treasures. I have
-hung my golden slipper about your neck. Sing to me. Sing to me!”
-
-But the bird stood still: there was no one to wind him up, and
-therefore he could not sing. But Death went on, staring at the Emperor
-with his great hollow sockets, and it was terribly still.
-
-Then, suddenly, close to the window, came the sound of a lovely song.
-It was the little live Nightingale which perched on the branches
-outside. It had heard of its Emperor's plight, and had therefore flown
-hither to bring him comfort and hope, and as he sang, the faces became
-paler and the blood coursed more freely through the Emperor's weak
-body, and Death himself listened and said: “Go on, little Nightingale.
-Go on.”
-
-“And will you give me the splendid sword, and the rich banner and the
-Emperor's crown?”
-
-And Death gave all these treasures for a song. And still the
-Nightingale sang on. He sang of the quiet churchyard, where the white
-roses grow, where the Elder flowers bloom, and where the grass is kept
-moist by the tears of the survivors, and there came to Death such a
-longing to see his garden, that he floated out of the window, in the
-form of a white, cold mist.
-
-“Thank you, thank you,” said the Emperor. “You heavenly little bird, I
-know you well! I banished you from the land, and you have charmed away
-the evil spirits from my bed, and you have driven Death from my heart.
-How shall I reward you?”
-
-“You have rewarded me,” said the Nightingale. “I received tears from
-your eyes the first time I sang, and I never forget that. These are
-jewels which touch the heart of the singer. But sleep now, that you
-may wake fresh and strong. I will sing to you,” and it sang, and the
-Emperor fell into a sweet sleep. The sun shone in upon him through the
-window, and he woke feeling strong and healthy. None of his servants
-had come back, because they thought he was dead, but the Nightingale
-was still singing.
-
-“You will always stay with me,” said the Emperor. “You shall only sing
-when it pleases you, and I will break the artificial Nightingale into a
-thousand pieces.”
-
-“Do not do that,” said the Nightingale. “It has done the best it
-could. Keep it with you. I cannot build my nest in a palace, but let
-me come just as I please. I will sit on the branch near the window,
-and sing to you that you may be joyful and thoughtful too. I will sing
-to you of the happy folk, and of those that suffer; I will sing of
-the evil and of the good, which is being hidden from you. The little
-singing bird flies hither and thither, to the poor fisherman, to the
-peasant's hut, to many who live far from you and the Court. Your heart
-is dearer to me than your crown, and yet the crown has a breath of
-sanctity too. I will come; I will sing to you, but one thing you must
-promise.”
-
-“All that you ask,” said the Emperor and stood there in his imperial
-robes which he had put on himself, and held the heavy golden sword on
-his heart.
-
-“I beg you, let no one know that you have a little bird who tells you
-everything. It will be far better thus,” and the Nightingale flew away.
-
-The servants came to look upon their dead Emperor: they stood there and
-the Emperor said “Good morning.”
-
- (_From Hans. C. Andersen, translated from the Danish by Marie L.
- Shedlock._)
-
-
-THE SWINEHERD.
-
-There was once upon a time a needy prince. He owned a Kingdom--a very
-small one, but it was large enough to support a wife, and he made up
-his mind to marry. Now, it was really very bold on his part to say of
-the King's daughter: “Will you marry me?” But he dared to do so, for
-his name was known far and wide, and there were hundreds of princesses
-who would willingly have said: “Yes, with thanks.” But, whether she
-would say so, was another matter. We shall hear what happened.
-
-On the grave of the Prince's father there grew a rose-tree--such a
-wonderful rose-tree! It only bloomed once in five years, and then it
-only bore one rose--but what a rose! Its perfume was so sweet that
-whoever smelt it forgot all his cares and sorrows. The Prince had also
-a Nightingale which could sing as if all the delicious melodies in the
-world were contained in its little throat. The rose and the Nightingale
-were both to be given to the Princess and were therefore placed in two
-silver cases and sent to her. The Emperor had them carried before him
-into the great hall where the Princess was playing at “visiting” with
-her ladies-in-waiting. This was their chief occupation; and when she
-saw the great cases with the presents in them, she clapped her hands
-with joy.
-
-“If it were only a little pussy-cat,” she cried. But out came the
-beautiful rose.
-
-“How elegantly it is made,” said all the ladies of the Court.
-
-“It is more than elegant,” said the Emperor; “it is nice.”
-
-“Fie, papa,” she said, “it is not made at all; it is a natural rose.”
-
-“Fie,” said all the ladies of the court; “it is a natural rose.”
-
-“Let us see what the other case contains before we lose our temper,”
-said the Emperor, and then out came the little Nightingale and sang so
-sweetly that nobody right off could think of any bad thing to say of it.
-
-“Superbe, charmant,” cried the ladies of the Court, for they all
-chattered French, one worse than the other.
-
-“How the bird reminds me of the late Empress' musical-box!” said an old
-Lord-in-Waiting. “Ah me! The same tone, the same execution----”
-
-“The very same,” said the Emperor, and he cried like a little child.
-
-“I hope it is not a real bird,” said the Princess.
-
-“Oh yes; it is a real bird,” said those who had brought it.
-
-“Then let the bird fly away,” she said, and she would on no account
-allow the Prince to come in.
-
-But he was not to be discouraged. He smeared his face with black and
-brown, drew his cap over his forehead, and knocked at the Palace door.
-The Emperor opened it.
-
-“Good day, Emperor,” he said. “Could I not get some work at the Palace?”
-
-“There are so many who apply for positions here!” said the Emperor.
-“Now let me see: I am in want of a swineherd. I have a good many pigs
-to keep.”
-
-So the Prince was appointed as Imperial Swineherd. He had a wretched
-little room near the pig-sty and here he was obliged to stay. But the
-whole day he sat and worked, and by the evening he had made a neat
-little pipkin, and round it was a set of bells, and as soon as the pot
-began to boil, the bells fell to jingling most sweetly and played the
-old melody:
-
- “Ah, my dear Augustus,
- All is lost, all is lost;”
-
-but the most wonderful thing was that when you held your finger in
-the steam of the pipkin, you could immediately smell what dinner was
-cooking on every hearth in the town--that was something very different
-from a rose.
-
-The Princess was walking out with her ladies-in-Waiting, and when she
-heard the melody, she stopped short, and looked much rejoiced, for she
-could play “Ah, my dear Augustus.” That was the only tune she knew, but
-she could play it with one finger. “Why, that is what I can play,” she
-said. “What a cultivated swineherd he must be. Go down and ask him how
-much his instrument costs.”
-
-So one of the Ladies-in-Waiting was obliged to go down, but she put on
-pattens first.
-
-“What do you charge for your instrument?” asked the Lady-in-Waiting.
-
-“I will have ten kisses from the Princess,” said the Swineherd.
-
-“Good gracious!” said the Lady-in-Waiting.
-
-“I will not take less,” said the Swineherd.
-
-“Well, what did he say?” asked the Princess.
-
-“I really cannot tell you,” said the Lady-in-Waiting. “It is too
-dreadful.”
-
-“Then you can whisper it,” said the Princess.
-
-So she whispered it.
-
-“He is very rude,” said the Princess, and she walked away. But when she
-had walked a few steps the bells sounded so sweetly:
-
- “Ah, my dear Augustus,
- All is lost, all is lost.”
-
-“Listen,” said the Princess, “ask him whether he will have his kisses
-from my Ladies-in-Waiting.”
-
-“No, thank you,” said the Swineherd. “I will have ten kisses from the
-Princess, or I will keep my pipkin.”
-
-“How tiresome it is,” said the Princess; “but you must stand round me,
-so that nobody shall see.”
-
-So the Ladies-in-Waiting stood round her, and they spread out their
-dresses. The Swineherd got the kisses, and she got the pipkin.
-
-How delighted she was. All the evening, and the whole of the next day
-that pot was made to boil. And you might have known what everybody
-was cooking on every hearth in the town from the Chamberlain's to the
-shoemaker's. The court ladies danced and clapped their hands.
-
-“We know who is to have fruit, soup and pancakes. We know who is going
-to have porridge, and cutlets. How very interesting it is!”
-
-“Most, interesting, indeed,” said the first Lady-of-Honour.
-
-“Yes, but hold your tongues, because I am the Emperor's daughter.”
-
-“Of course we will,” they cried in one breath.
-
-The Swineherd, or rather the Prince, though they did not know but
-that he was a real swineherd, did not let the day pass without doing
-something, and he made a rattle which could play all the waltzes and
-the polkas and the hop-dances which had been known since the creation
-of the world.
-
-“But this is superb,” said the Princess, who was just passing: “I have
-never heard more beautiful composition. Go and ask him the cost of the
-instrument. But I will give no more kisses.”
-
-“He insists on a hundred kisses from the Princess,” said the
-Ladies-in-Waiting who had been down to ask.
-
-“I think he must be quite mad,” said the Princess, and she walked away.
-But when she had taken a few steps, she stopped short, and said: “One
-must encourage the fine arts, and I am the Emperor's daughter. Tell him
-he may have ten kisses, as before, and the rest he can take from my
-Ladies-in-Waiting.”
-
-“Yes, but we object to that,” said the Ladies-in-Waiting.
-
-“That is nonsense,” said the Princess. “If I can kiss him, surely you
-can do the same. Go down at once. Don't I pay you board and wages?”
-
-So the Ladies-in-Waiting were obliged to go down to the Swineherd again.
-
-“A hundred kisses from the Princess, or each keeps his own.”
-
-“Stand round me,” she said. And all the Ladies-in-Waiting stood round
-her, and the Swineherd began to kiss her.
-
-“What can all that crowd be down by the pigsty?” said the Emperor,
-stepping out on to the balcony. He rubbed his eyes and put on his
-spectacles. “It is the court-ladies up to some of their tricks. I must
-go down and look after them.” He pulled up his slippers (for they were
-shoes which he had trodden down at the heel).
-
-Heavens! How he hurried! As soon as he came into the garden he walked
-very softly, and the Ladies-in-Waiting had so much to do counting
-the kisses, so that everything should be done fairly, and that the
-Swineherd should neither get too many nor too few, that they never
-noticed the Emperor at all. He stood on tiptoe.
-
-“What is this all about?” he said, when he saw the kissing that was
-going on, and he hit them on the head with his slipper, just as the
-Swineherd was getting the eighty-sixth kiss. “Heraus,” said the
-Emperor, for he was angry, and both the Princess and the Swineherd were
-turned out of his Kingdom.
-
-The Princess wept, the Swineherd scolded, and the rain streamed down.
-
-“Ah! wretched creature that I am,” said the Princess. “If I had only
-taken the handsome Prince! Ah me, how unhappy I am!”
-
-Then the Swineherd went behind a tree, washed the black and brown off
-his face, threw off his ragged clothes, and stood forth in his royal
-apparel, looking so handsome that she was obliged to curtsey.
-
-“I have learned to despise you,” he said. “You would not have an
-honourable Prince. You could not appreciate a rose or a Nightingale,
-but to get a toy, you kissed the Swineherd. Now you have your reward.”
-
-So he went into his Kingdom, shut the door and bolted it, and she had
-to stand outside singing:
-
- “Ah, you dear Augustus,
- All, all is lost.”
-
- (_From the Danish of Hans C. Andersen, translated by Marie L.
- Shedlock._)
-
-
-THE PRINCESS AND THE PEA.
-
-There was once a Prince who wished to marry a Princess, but she must
-be a real Princess. He travelled all over the world to find such a
-one; but there was always something the matter. There were plenty of
-Princesses, but whether they were real or not, he could not be quite
-certain. There was always something that was not quite right. So he
-came home again, feeling very sad, for he was so anxious to have a real
-Princess.
-
-One evening a terrible storm came on: it lightened, and thundered and
-the rain came down in torrents. It was quite terrible. Then there
-came a knocking at the town-gate, and the old King went down to open
-it. There, outside, stood a Princess. But gracious! the rain and bad
-weather had made her look dreadful. The water was running out of her
-hair on to her clothes, into the tips of her shoes and out at the
-heels, and yet she said she was a real Princess.
-
-“We shall soon find out about that,” thought the old Queen. But
-she said never a word. She went into the bedroom, took off all the
-bed-clothes and put a pea on the bedstead. Then she took twenty
-mattresses and laid them on the pea and twenty eider-down quilts upon
-the mattresses. And the Princess was to sleep there at night.
-
-In the morning they came to her and asked her how she had slept.
-
-“Oh! dreadfully,” said the Princess. “I scarcely closed my eyes the
-whole night long. Heaven knows what could have been in the bed. I have
-lain upon something hard, so that my whole body is black and blue. It
-is quite dreadful.”
-
-So they could see now that she was a real Princess, because she had
-felt the pea through twenty mattresses and twenty eider-down quilts.
-Nobody but a real Princess could be so sensitive.
-
-So the Prince married her, for now he knew that he had found a real
-Princess, and the pea was sent to an Art Museum, where it can still be
-seen, if nobody has taken it away.
-
-Now, mark you: This is a true story.
-
-(_Translated from the Danish of Hans C. Andersen by Marie L. Shedlock._)
-
-
-I give the following story, quoted by Professor Ker in his Romanes
-Lecture, 1906, as an encouragement to those who develop the art of
-story-telling.
-
-
-THE STORY OF STURLA.
-
-Then Sturla got ready to sail away with the king, and his name was
-put on the list. He went on board before many men had come; he had
-a sleeping bag and a travelling chest, and took his place on the
-fore-deck. A little later the king came on to the quay, and a company
-of men with him. Sturla rose and bowed, and bade the king ‘hail,’
-but the king answered nothing, and went aft along the ship to the
-quarter-deck. They sailed that day to go south along the coast. But
-in the evening when men unpacked their provisions Sturla sat still,
-and no one invited him to mess. Then a servant of the king's came and
-asked Sturla if he had any meat and drink. Sturla said ‘No.’ Then the
-king's servant went to the king and spoke with him, out of hearing:
-and then went forward to Sturla and said: “You shall go to mess with
-Thorir Mouth and Erlend Maw.” They took him into their mess, but rather
-stiffly. When men were turning in to sleep, a sailor of the king's
-asked who should tell them stories. There was little answer. Then he
-said: “Sturla the Icelander, will you tell stories?” “As you will,”
-said Sturla. So he told them the story of Huld, better and fuller than
-any one there had ever heard it told before. Then many men pushed
-forward to the fore-deck, wanting to hear as clearly as might be, and
-there was a great crowd. The queen asked: “What is that crowd on deck
-there?” A man answered: “The men are listening to the story that the
-Icelander tells.” “What story is that?” said she. He answers: “It is
-about a great troll-wife, and it is a good story and well told.” The
-king bade her pay no heed to that, and go to sleep. She says: “I think
-this Icelander must be a good fellow, and less to blame than he is
-reported.” The king was silent.
-
-So the night passed, and the next morning there was no wind for them,
-and the king's ship lay in the same place. Later in the day, when men
-sat at their drink, the king sent dishes from his table to Sturla.
-Sturla's messmates were pleased with this: “You bring better luck than
-we thought, if this sort of thing goes on.” After dinner the queen sent
-for Sturla and asked him to come to her and bring the troll-wife story
-along with him. So Sturla went aft to the quarter-deck, and greeted
-the king and queen. The king answered little, the queen well and
-cheerfully. She asked him to tell the same story he had told overnight.
-He did so, for a great part of the day. When he had finished, the queen
-thanked him, and many others besides, and made him out in their minds
-to be a learned man and sensible. But the king said nothing; only he
-smiled a little. Sturla thought he saw that the king's whole frame of
-mind was brighter than the day before. So he said to the king that
-he had made a poem about him, and another about his father: “I would
-gladly get a hearing for them.” The queen said: “Let him recite his
-poem; I am told that he is the best of poets, and his poem will be
-excellent.” The king bade him say on, if he would, and repeat the poem
-he professed to have made about him. Sturla chanted it to the end. The
-queen said: “To my mind that is a good poem.” The king said to her:
-“Can you follow the poem clearly?” “I would be fain to have you think
-so, Sir,” said the queen. The king said: “I have learned that Sturla
-is good at verses.” Sturla took his leave of the king and queen and
-went to his place. There was no sailing for the king all that day. In
-the evening before he went to bed he sent for Sturla. And when he came
-he greeted the king and said: “What will you have me to do, Sir?” The
-king called for a silver goblet full of wine, and drank some and gave
-it to Sturla and said: “A health to a friend in wine!” (_Vin skal til
-vinar drekka._) Sturla said: “God be praised for it!” “Even so,” says
-the king, “and now I wish you to say the poem you have made about my
-father.” Sturla repeated it: and when it was finished men praised it
-much, and most of all the queen. The king said: “To my thinking, you
-are a better reciter than the Pope.”
-
- _Sturlunga Saga_, vol. ii, pp. 269 _sqq._
-
-
-A SAGA.
-
-In the grey beginnings of the world, or ever the flower of justice
-had rooted in the heart, there lived among the daughters of men two
-children, sisters, of one house.
-
-In childhood did they leap and climb and swim with the men children of
-their race, and were nurtured on the same stories of gods and heroes.
-
-In maidenhood they could do all that a maiden might and more--delve
-could they no less than spin, hunt no less than weave, brew pottage and
-helm ships, wake the harp and tell the stars, face all danger and laugh
-at all pain.
-
-Joyous in toil-time and rest-time were they as the days and years
-of their youth came and went. Death had spared their house, and
-unhappiness knew they none. Yet often as at falling day they sat before
-sleep round the hearth of red fire, listening with the household to the
-brave songs of gods and heroes, there would surely creep into their
-hearts a shadow--the thought that whatever the years of their lives,
-and whatever the generous deeds, there would for them, as women, be
-no escape at the last from the dire mists of Hela, the fogland beyond
-the grave for all such as die not in battle; no escape for them from
-Hela, and no place for ever for them or for their kind among the
-glory-crowned, sword-shriven heroes of echoing Valhalla.
-
-That shadow had first fallen in their lusty childhood, had slowly
-gathered darkness through the overflowing days of maidenhood, and now,
-in the strong tide of full womanhood, often lay upon their future as
-the moon in Odin's wrath lies upon the sun.
-
-But stout were they to face danger and laugh at pain, and for all the
-shadow upon their hope they lived brave and songful days--the one a
-homekeeper and in her turn a mother of men; the other unhusbanded,
-but gentle to ignorance and sickness and sorrow through the width and
-length of the land.
-
-And thus, facing life fearlessly and ever with a smile, those two women
-lived even unto extreme old age, unto the one's children's children's
-children, labouring truly unto the end and keeping strong hearts
-against the dread day of Hela, and the fate-locked gates of Valhalla.
-
-But at the end a wonder.
-
-As these sisters looked their last upon the sun, the one in the
-ancestral homestead under the eyes of love, the other in a distant land
-among strange faces, behold the wind of Thor, and out of the deep of
-heaven the white horses of Odin, All-Father, bearing Valkyrie, shining
-messengers of Valhalla. And those two world-worn women, faithful in all
-their lives, were caught up in death in divine arms and borne far from
-the fogs of Hela to golden thrones among the battle heroes, upon which
-the Nornir, sitting at the loom of life, had from all eternity graven
-their names.
-
-And from that hour have the gates of Valhalla been thrown wide to all
-faithful endeavour whether of man or of women.
-
- JOHN RUSSELL,
- Headmaster of the King Alfred School.
-
-
-THE LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER.
-
-Christopher was of the lineage of the Canaaneans and he was of a right
-great stature, and had a terrible and fearful cheer and countenance.
-And he was twelve cubits of length. And, as it is read in some
-histories, when he served and dwelled with the king of Canaaneans, it
-came in his mind that he would seek the greatest prince that was in the
-world and him he would serve and obey.
-
-And so far he went that he came to a right great king, of whom the
-renown generally was that he was the greatest of the world. And when
-the king saw him he received him into his service and made him to dwell
-in his court.
-
-Upon a time a minstrel sang before him a song in which he named oft
-the devil. And the king which was a Christian man, when he heard him
-name the devil, made anon the sign of the cross in his visage. And
-when Christopher saw that, he had great marvel what sign it was and
-wherefore the king made it. And he demanded it of him. And because the
-king would not say, he said, “If thou tell me not, I shall no longer
-dwell with thee.” And then the king told to him saying, “Alway when I
-hear the devil named, I fear that he should have power over me, and
-I garnish me with this sign that he grieve not nor annoy me.” Then
-Christopher said to him, “Thou doubtest the devil that he hurt thee
-not? Then is the devil more mighty and greater than thou art. I am then
-deceived of my hope and purpose; for I supposed that I had found the
-most mighty and the most greatest lord of the world. But I commend thee
-to God, for I will go seek him to be my lord and I his servant.”
-
-And then he departed from this king and hasted him to seek the devil.
-And as he went by a great desert he saw a great company of knights.
-Of which a knight cruel and horrible came to him and demanded whither
-he went. And Christopher answered to him and said, “I go to seek the
-devil for to be my master.” And he said, “I am he that thou seekest.”
-And then Christopher was glad and bound himself to be his servant
-perpetual, and took him for his master and lord.
-
-And as they went together by a common way, they found there a cross
-erect and standing. And anon as the devil saw the cross, he was afeard
-and fled, and left the right way and brought Christopher about by a
-sharp desert, and after, when they were past the cross, he brought him
-to the highway that they had left. And when Christopher saw that, he
-marvelled and demanded whereof he doubted that he had left high and
-fair way and had gone so far about by so hard desert. And the devil
-would not tell to him in no wise. Then Christopher said to him, “If
-thou wilt not tell me I shall anon depart from thee and shall serve
-thee no more.” Therefore the devil was constrained to tell him, and
-said, “There was a man called Christ which was hanged on the cross, and
-when I see his sign, I am sore afeard and flee from it wheresomever
-I find it.” To whom Christopher said, “Then he is greater and more
-mightier than thou, when thou art afraid of his sign. And I see well
-that I have laboured in vain since I have not founden the greatest lord
-of all the earth. And I will serve thee no longer. Go thy way then: for
-I will go seek Jesus Christ.”
-
-And when he had long sought and demanded where he should find Christ,
-at the last he came into a great desert to an hermit that dwelled
-there. And this hermit preached to him of Jesus Christ and informed
-him in the faith diligently. And he said to him, “This king whom thou
-desirest to serve, requireth this service that thou must oft fast.” And
-Christopher said to him, “Require of me some other thing and I shall
-do it. For that which thou requirest I may not do.” And the hermit
-said, “Thou must then wake and make many prayers.” And Christopher
-said to him, “I wot not what it is. I may do no such thing.” And then
-the hermit said unto him, “Knowest thou such a river in which many
-be perished and lost?” To whom Christopher said, “I know it well.”
-Then said the hermit, “Because thou art noble and high of stature and
-strong in thy members, thou shalt be resident by that river and shalt
-bear over all them that shall pass there. Which shall be a thing right
-convenable to Our Lord Jesus Christ, whom thou desirest to serve, and
-I hope He shall shew Himself to thee.” Then said Christopher, “Certes,
-this service may I well do, and I promise to Him for to do it.”
-
-Then went Christopher to this river, and made there his habitation
-for him. And he bare a great pole in his hand instead of a staff, by
-which he sustained him in the water; and bare over all manner of people
-without ceasing. And there he abode, thus doing many days.
-
-And on a time, as he slept in his lodge, he heard the voice of a
-child which called him and said, “Christopher, come out and bear me
-over.” Then he awoke and went out; but he found no man. And when he
-was again in his house, he heard the same voice, and he ran out and
-found nobody. The third time he was called, and came thither, and
-found a child beside the rivage of the river: which prayed him goodly
-to bear him over the water. And then Christopher lift up the child on
-his shoulders and took his staff and entered into the river for to
-pass. And the water of the river arose and swelled more and more. And
-the child was heavy as lead. And always as he went further the water
-increased and grew more, and the child more and more waxed heavy: in
-so much that Christopher had great anguish and feared to be drowned.
-And when he was escaped with great pain and passed the water, and set
-the child aground, he said to the child, “Child, thou hast put me in
-great peril. Thou weighest almost as I had had all the world upon me.
-I might bear no greater burden.” And the child answered, “Christopher,
-marvel thou no thing. For thou hast not only borne all the world upon
-thee; but thou hast borne Him that created and made all the world upon
-thy shoulders. I am Jesus Christ, the King to whom thou servest in this
-work. And that thou mayest know that I say to thee truth, set thy staff
-in the earth by the house, and thou shalt see to-morrow that it shall
-bear flowers and fruit.” And anon he vanished from his eyes.
-
-And then Christopher set his staff in the earth and when he arose on
-the morrow, he found his staff like a palm-tree bearing flowers, leaves
-and dates.
-
-
-ARTHUR IN THE CAVE.
-
-Once upon a time a Welshman was walking on London Bridge, staring
-at the traffic and wondering why there were so many kites hovering
-about. He had come to London, after many adventures with thieves
-and highwaymen, which need not be related here, in charge of a herd
-of black Welsh cattle. He had sold them with much profit, and with
-jingling gold in his pocket he was going about to see the sights of the
-city.
-
-He was carrying a hazel staff in his hand, for you must know that a
-good staff is as necessary to a drover as teeth are to his dogs. He
-stood still to gaze at some wares in a shop (for at that time London
-Bridge was shops from beginning to end), when he noticed that a man was
-looking at his stick with a long fixed look. The man after a while came
-to him and asked him where he came from.
-
-“I come from my own country,” said the Welshman, rather surlily, for he
-could not see what business the man had to ask such a question.
-
-“Do not take it amiss,” said the stranger: “if you will only answer my
-questions, and take my advice, it will be greater benefit to you than
-you imagine. Do you remember where you cut that stick?”
-
-The Welshman was still suspicious, and said: “What does it matter where
-I cut it?”
-
-“It matters,” said the questioner, “because there is a treasure hidden
-near the spot where you cut that stick. If you can remember the place
-and conduct me to it, I will put you in possession of great riches.”
-
-The Welshman now understood he had to deal with a sorcerer, and he was
-greatly perplexed as to what to do. On the one hand, he was tempted by
-the prospect of wealth; on the other hand, he knew that the sorcerer
-must have derived his knowledge from devils, and he feared to have
-anything to do with the powers of darkness. The cunning man strove hard
-to persuade him, and at length made him promise to shew the place where
-he cut his hazel staff.
-
-The Welshman and the magician journeyed together to Wales. They went
-to Craig y Dinas, the Rock of the Fortress, at the head of the Neath
-valley, near Pont Nedd Fechan, and the Welshman, pointing to the stock
-or root of an old hazel, said: “This is where I cut my stick.”
-
-“Let us dig,” said the sorcerer. They digged until they came to a
-broad, flat stone. Prising this up, they found some steps leading
-downwards. They went down the steps and along a narrow passage until
-they came to a door. “Are you brave?” asked the sorcerer, “will you
-come in with me?”
-
-“I will,” said the Welshman, his curiosity getting the better of his
-fear.
-
-They opened the door, and a great cave opened out before them. There
-was a faint red light in the cave, and they could see everything. The
-first thing they came to was a bell.
-
-“Do not touch that bell,” said the sorcerer, “or it will be all over
-with us both.”
-
-As they went further in, the Welshman saw that the place was not empty.
-There were soldiers lying down asleep, thousands of them, as far as
-ever the eye could see. Each one was clad in bright armour, the steel
-helmet of each was on his head, the shining shield of each was on his
-arm, the sword of each was near his hand, each had his spear stuck in
-the ground near him, and each and all were asleep.
-
-In the midst of the cave was a great round table at which sat warriors
-whose noble features and richly-dight armour proclaimed that they were
-not as the roll of common men.
-
-Each of these, too, had his head bent down in sleep. On a golden throne
-on the further side of the round table was a king of gigantic stature
-and august presence. In his hand, held below the hilt, was a mighty
-sword with scabbard and haft of gold studded with gleaming gems; on his
-head was a crown set with precious stones which flashed and glinted
-like so many points of fire. Sleep had set its seal on his eyelids
-also.
-
-“Are they asleep?” asked the Welshman, hardly believing his own eyes.
-“Yes, each and all of them,” answered the sorcerer. “But, if you touch
-yonder bell, they will all awake.”
-
-“How long have they been asleep?”
-
-“For over a thousand years.”
-
-“Who are they?”
-
-“Arthur's warriors, waiting for the time to come when they shall
-destroy all the enemy of the Cymry and repossess the strand of Britain,
-establishing their own king once more at Caer Lleon.”
-
-“Who are these sitting at the round table?”
-
-“These are Arthur's knights--Owain, the son of Urien; Cai, the son
-of Cynyr; Gnalchmai, the son of Gwyar; Peredir, the son of Efrawe;
-Geraint, the son of Erbin; Trystan, the son of March; Bedwyr, the son
-of Bedrawd; Ciernay, the son of Celyddon; Edeyrn, the son of Nudd;
-Cymri, the son of Clydno.”
-
-“And on the golden throne?” broke in the Welshman.
-
-“Is Arthur himself, with his sword Excalibur in his hand,” replied the
-sorcerer.
-
-Impatient by this time at the Welshman's questions, the sorcerer
-hastened to a great heap of yellow gold on the floor of the cave. He
-took up as much as he could carry, and bade his companion do the same.
-“It is time for us to go,” he then said, and he led the way towards the
-door by which they had entered.
-
-But the Welshman was fascinated by the sight of the countless soldiers
-in their glittering arms--all asleep.
-
-“How I should like to see them all awaking!” he said to himself. “I
-will touch the bell--I _must_ see them all arising from their sleep.”
-
-When they came to the bell, he struck it until it rang through the
-whole place. As soon as it rang, lo! the thousands of warriors leapt
-to their feet and the ground beneath them shook with the sound of the
-steel arms. And a great voice came from their midst: “Who rang the
-bell? Has the day come?”
-
-The sorcerer was so much frightened that he shook like an aspen leaf.
-He shouted in answer: “No, the day has not come. Sleep on.”
-
-The mighty host was all in motion, and the Welshman's eyes were dazzled
-as he looked at the bright steel arms which illumined the cave as with
-the light of myriad flames of fire.
-
-“Arthur,” said the voice again, “awake; the bell has rung, the day is
-breaking. Awake, Arthur the Great.”
-
-“No,” shouted the sorcerer, “it is still night. Sleep on, Arthur the
-Great.”
-
-A sound came from the throne. Arthur was standing, and the jewels in
-his crown shone like bright stars above the countless throng. His voice
-was strong and sweet like the sound of many waters, and he said: “My
-warriors, the day has not come when the Black Eagle and the Golden
-Eagle shall go to war. It is only a seeker after gold who has rung the
-bell. Sleep on, my warriors; the morn of Wales has not yet dawned.”
-
-A peaceful sound like the distant sigh of the sea came over the cave,
-and in a trice the soldiers were all asleep again. The sorcerer hurried
-the Welshman out of the cave, moved the stone back to its place and
-vanished.
-
-Many a time did the Welshman try to find his way into the cave again,
-but though he dug over every inch of the hill, he has never again found
-the entrance to Arthur's Cave.
-
- From “The Welsh Fairy Book,” by W. Jenkyn Thomas. Fisher Unwin.
-
-
-HAFIZ THE STONE-CUTTER.
-
-There was once a stone-cutter whose name was Hafiz, and all day long he
-chipped, chipped, chipped at his block. And often he grew very weary
-of his task and he would say to himself impatiently, “Why should I go
-on chip-chip-chipping at my block? Why should I not have pleasure and
-amusement as other folk have?”
-
-One day, when the sun was very hot and when he felt specially weary, he
-suddenly heard the sound of many feet, and, looking up from his work,
-he saw a great procession coming his way. It was the King, mounted on
-a splendid charger, all his soldiers to the right, in their shining
-armour, and the servants to the left, dressed in gorgeous clothing,
-ready to do his behests.
-
-And Hafiz said: “How splendid to be a King! If only I could be a King,
-if only for ten minutes, so that I might know what it feels like!” And
-then, even as he spoke, he seemed to be dreaming, and in his dream he
-sang this little song:
-
- Ah me! Ah me!
- If Hafiz only the King could be!
-
-And then a voice from the air around seemed to answer him and to say:
-
- Be thou the King.[54]
-
-And Hafiz became the King, and he it was that sat on the splendid
-charger, and they were his soldiers to the right and his servants to
-the left. And Hafiz said: “I am King, and there is no one stronger in
-the whole world than I.”
-
-But soon, in spite of the golden canopy over his head, Hafiz began to
-feel the terrible heat of the rays of the sun, and soon he noticed that
-the soldiers and servants were weary, that his horse drooped, and that
-he, Hafiz, was overcome, and he said angrily: “What! Is there something
-stronger in the world than a King?” And, almost without knowing it, he
-again sang his song--more boldly than the first time:
-
- Ah me! Ah me!
- If Hafiz only the Sun could be!
-
-And the Voice answered:
-
- Be thou the Sun.
-
-And Hafiz became the Sun, and shone down upon the Earth, but, because
-he did not know how to shine very wisely, he shone very fiercely, so
-that the crops dried up, and folk grew sick and died. And then there
-arose from the East a little cloud which slipped between Hafiz and the
-Earth, so that he could no longer shine down upon it, and he said: “Is
-there something stronger in the world than the Sun?”
-
- Ah me! Ah me!
- If Hafiz only the Cloud could be!
-
-And the Voice said:
-
- Be thou the cloud.
-
-And Hafiz became the Cloud, and rained down water upon the Earth, but,
-because he did not know how to do so wisely, there fell so much rain
-that all the little rivulets became great rivers, and all the great
-rivers overflowed their banks, and carried everything before them in
-swift torrent--all except one great rock which stood unmoved. And Hafiz
-said: “Is there something stronger than the Cloud?”
-
- Ah me! Ah me!
- If Hafiz only the Rock could be!
-
-And the Voice said:
-
- Be thou the Rock.
-
-And Hafiz became the Rock, and the Cloud disappeared and the waters
-went down.
-
-And Hafiz the Rock saw coming towards him a man--but he could not see
-his face. As the man approached he suddenly raised a hammer and struck
-Hafiz, so that he felt it through all his stony body. And Hafiz said:
-“Is there something stronger in the world than the Rock?”
-
- Ah me! Ah me!
- If Hafiz only that man might be!
-
-And the Voice said:
-
- Be thou--Thyself.
-
-And Hafiz seized the hammer and said:
-
-“The Sun was stronger than the King, the Cloud was stronger than the
-Sun, the Rock was stronger than the Cloud, but I, Hafiz, was stronger
-than all.”
-
- _Adapted and arranged for narration by M. C. S._
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[54] The melody to be crooned at first and to grow louder at each
-incident.
-
-
-TO YOUR GOOD HEALTH.
-
-(_From the Russian._)
-
-Long long ago there lived a King who was such a mighty monarch that
-whenever he sneezed everyone in the whole country had to say, “To your
-good health!” Everyone said it except the Shepherd with the bright blue
-eyes, and he would not say it.
-
-The King heard of this and was very angry, and sent for the Shepherd to
-appear before him.
-
-The Shepherd came and stood before the throne, where the King sat
-looking very grand and powerful. But, however grand or powerful he
-might be, the Shepherd did not feel a bit afraid of him.
-
-“Say at once, 'To my good health!'” cried the King.
-
-“To my good health,” replied the Shepherd.
-
-“To mine--to _mine_, you rascal, you vagabond!” stormed the King.
-
-“To mine, to mine, Your Majesty,” was the answer.
-
-“But to _mine_--to my own!” roared the King, and beat on his breast in
-a rage.
-
-“Well, yes; to mine, of course, to my own,” cried the Shepherd, and
-gently tapped his breast.
-
-The King was beside himself with fury and did not know what to do, when
-the Lord Chamberlain interfered:
-
-“Say at once--say at this very moment, ‘To your health, Your Majesty,’
-for if you don't say it you will lose your life,” he whispered.
-
-“No, I won't say it till I get the Princess for my wife,” was the
-Shepherd's answer.
-
-Now the Princess was sitting on a little throne beside the King her
-father, and she looked as sweet and lovely as a little golden dove.
-When she heard what the Shepherd said, she could not help laughing, for
-there is no denying the fact that this young shepherd with the blue
-eyes pleased her very much; indeed, he pleased her better than any
-king's son she had yet seen.
-
-But the King was not as pleasant as his daughter, and he gave orders to
-throw the Shepherd into the white bear's pit.
-
-The guards led him away and thrust him into the pit with the white
-bear, who had had nothing to eat for two days and was very hungry. The
-door of the pit was hardly closed when the bear rushed at the Shepherd;
-but when it saw his eyes it was so frightened that it was ready to eat
-itself. It shrank away into a corner and gazed at him from there, and
-in spite of being so famished, did not dare to touch him, but sucked
-its own paws from sheer hunger. The Shepherd felt that if he once
-removed his eyes off the beast he was a dead man, and in order to keep
-himself awake he made songs and sang them, and so the night went by.
-
-Next morning the Lord Chamberlain came to see the Shepherd's bones, and
-was amazed to find him alive and well. He led him to the King, who fell
-into a furious passion, and said:
-
-“Well, you have learned what it is to be very near death, and now will
-you say, 'To my very good health'?”
-
-But the Shepherd answered:
-
-“I am not afraid of ten deaths! I will only say it if I may have the
-Princess for my wife.”
-
-“Then go to your death,” cried the King, and ordered him to be thrown
-into the den with the wild boars.
-
-The wild boars had not been fed for a week, and when the Shepherd was
-thrust into their den they rushed at him to tear him to pieces. But the
-Shepherd took a little flute out of the sleeve of his jacket, and began
-to play a merry tune, on which the wild boars first of all shrank shyly
-away, and then got up on their hind legs and danced gaily. The Shepherd
-would have given anything to be able to laugh, they looked so funny;
-but he dared not stop playing, for he knew well enough that the moment
-he stopped they would fall upon him and tear him to pieces. His eyes
-were of no use to him here, for he could not have stared ten wild boars
-in the face at once; so he kept on playing, and the wild boars danced
-very slowly, as if in a minuet; then by degrees he played faster and
-faster, till they could hardly twist and turn quickly enough, and ended
-by all falling over each other in a heap, quite exhausted and out of
-breath.
-
-Then the Shepherd ventured to laugh at last; and he laughed so long
-and so loud that when the Lord Chamberlain came early in the morning,
-expecting to find only his bones, the tears were still running down his
-cheeks from laughter.
-
-As soon as the King was dressed the Shepherd was again brought before
-him; but he was more angry than ever to think the wild boars had not
-torn the man to bits, and he said:
-
-“Well, you have learned what it feels to be near ten deaths, _now_ say
-'To my good health!'”
-
-But the Shepherd broke in with:
-
-“I do not fear a hundred deaths; and I will only say it if I may have
-the Princess for my wife.”
-
-“Then go to a hundred deaths!” roared the King, and ordered the
-Shepherd to be thrown down the deep vault of scythes.
-
-The guards dragged him away to a dark dungeon, in the middle of which
-was a deep well with sharp scythes all round it. At the bottom of the
-well was a little light by which one could see, if anyone was thrown
-in, whether he had fallen to the bottom.
-
-When the Shepherd was dragged to the dungeon he begged the guards to
-leave him alone a little while that he might look down into the pit of
-scythes; perhaps he might after all make up his mind to say, “To your
-good health” to the King.
-
-So the guards left him alone, and he stuck up his long stick near the
-wall, hung his cloak round the stick and put his hat on the top. He
-also hung his knapsack up beside the cloak, so that it might seem to
-have some body within it. When this was done, he called out to the
-guards and said that he had considered the matter, but after all he
-could not make up his mind to say what the King wished.
-
-The guards came in, threw the hat and cloak, knapsack and stick all
-down in the well together, watched to see how they put out the light at
-the bottom, and came away, thinking that now there was really an end of
-the Shepherd. But he had hidden in a dark corner, and was now laughing
-to himself all the time.
-
-Quite early next morning came the Lord Chamberlain with a lamp, and he
-nearly fell backwards with surprise when he saw the Shepherd alive and
-well. He brought him to the King, whose fury was greater than ever, but
-who cried:
-
-“Well, now you have been near a hundred deaths; will you say, 'To your
-good health'?”
-
-But the Shepherd only gave the same answer:
-
-“I won't say it till the Princess is my wife.”
-
-“Perhaps after all you may do it for less,” said the King, who saw that
-there was no chance of making away with the Shepherd; and he ordered
-the state coach to be got ready; then he made the Shepherd get in with
-him and sit beside him, and ordered the coachman to drive to the silver
-wood.
-
-When they reached it, he said:
-
-“Do you see this silver wood? Well, if you will say, ‘To your good
-health,’ I will give it to you.”
-
-The Shepherd turned hot and cold by turns, but he still persisted:
-
-“I will not say it till the Princess is my wife.”
-
-The King was much vexed; he drove further on till they came to a
-splendid castle, all of gold, and then he said:
-
-“Do you see this golden castle? Well, I will give you that too, the
-silver wood and the golden castle, if only you will say that one thing
-to me: 'To your good health.'”
-
-The Shepherd gaped and wondered, and was quite dazzled, but he still
-said:
-
-“No, I will not say it till I have the Princess for my wife.”
-
-This time the King was overwhelmed with grief, and gave orders to drive
-on to the diamond pond, and there he tried once more:
-
-“You shall have them all--all, if you will but say, 'To your good
-health.'”
-
-The Shepherd had to shut his staring eyes tight not to be dazzled with
-the brilliant pond, but still he said:
-
-“No, no; I will not say it till I have the Princess for my wife.”
-
-Then the King saw that all his efforts were useless, and that he might
-as well give in; so he said:
-
-“Well, well, it is all the same to me--I will give you my daughter
-to wife; but then you really and truly must say to me, 'To your good
-health.'”
-
-“Of course I'll say it; why should I not say it? It stands to reason
-that I shall say it then.”
-
-At this the King was more delighted than anyone could have believed. He
-made it known to all through the country that there were going to be
-great rejoicings, as the Princess was going to be married. And everyone
-rejoiced to think that the Princess who had refused so many royal
-suitors, should have ended by falling in love with the staring-eyed
-Shepherd.
-
-There was such a wedding as had never been seen. Everyone ate and
-drank and danced. Even the sick were feasted, and quite tiny new-born
-children had presents given them. But the greatest merry-making was
-in the King's palace; there the best bands played and the best food
-was cooked. A crowd of people sat down to table, and all was fun and
-merry-making.
-
-And when the groomsman, according to custom, brought in the great
-boar's head on a big dish and placed it before the King, so that he
-might carve it and give everyone a share, the savoury smell was so
-strong that the King began to sneeze with all his might.
-
-“To your very good health!” cried the Shepherd before anyone else, and
-the King was so delighted that he did not regret having given him his
-daughter.
-
-In time, when the old King died, the Shepherd succeeded him. He made a
-very good king, and never expected his people to wish him well against
-their wills: but, all the same, everyone did wish him well, because
-they loved him.
-
-
-THE PROUD COCK.
-
-There was once a cock who grew so dreadfully proud that he would have
-nothing to say to anybody. He left his house, it being far beneath his
-dignity to have any trammel of that sort in his life, and as for his
-former acquaintances, he cut them all.
-
-One day, whilst walking about, he came to a few little sparks of fire
-which were nearly dead.
-
-They cried out to him: “Please fan us with your wings, and we shall
-come to the full vigour of life again.”
-
-But he did not deign to answer, and as he was going away, one of the
-sparks said: “Ah well! we shall die, but our big brother the Fire will
-pay you out for this one day.”
-
-On another day he was airing himself in a meadow, showing himself off
-in a very superb set of clothes. A voice calling from somewhere said:
-“Please be so good as to drop us into the water again.”
-
-He looked about and saw a few drops of water: they had got separated
-from their friends in the river, and were pining away with grief. “Oh!
-please be so good as to drop us into the water again,” they said; but,
-without any answer, he drank up the drops. He was too proud and a great
-deal too big to talk to a poor little puddle of water; but the drops
-said: “Our big brother the Water will one day take you in hand, you
-proud and senseless creature.”
-
-Some days afterwards, during a great storm of rain, thunder and
-lightning, the cock took shelter in a little empty cottage, and shut
-to the door; and he thought: “I am clever; I am in comfort. What fools
-people are to stop out in a storm like this! What's that?” thought he.
-“I never heard a sound like that before.”
-
-In a little while it grew much louder, and when a few minutes had
-passed, it was a perfect howl. “Oh!” thought he, “this will never do. I
-must stop it somehow. But what is it I have to stop?”
-
-He soon found it was the wind, shouting through the keyhole, so he
-plugged up the keyhole with a bit of clay, and then the wind was able
-to rest. He was very tired with whistling so long through the keyhole,
-and he said: “Now, if ever I have at any time a chance of doing a good
-turn to that princely domestic fowl, I will do it.”
-
-Weeks afterwards, the cock looked in at a house door: he seldom went
-there, because the miser to whom the house belonged almost starved
-himself, and so, of course, there was nothing over for anybody else.
-
-To his amazement the cock saw the miser bending over a pot on the fire.
-At last the old fellow turned round to get a spoon with which to stir
-his pot, and then the cock, walking up, looked in and saw that the
-miser was making oyster-soup, for he had found some oyster-shells in an
-ash-pit, and to give the mixture a colour he had put in a few halfpence
-in the pot.
-
-The miser chanced to turn quickly round, whilst the cock was peering
-into the saucepan, and, chuckling to himself, he said: “I shall have
-some chicken broth after all.”
-
-He tripped up the cock into the pot and shut the lid on. The bird,
-feeling warm, said: “Water, water, don't boil!” But the water only
-said: “You drank up my young brothers once: don't ask a favour of _me_.”
-
-Then he called out to the Fire: “Oh! kind Fire, don't boil the water.”
-But the Fire replied: “You once let my young sisters die: you cannot
-expect any mercy from me.” So he flared up and boiled the water all the
-faster.
-
-At last, when the cock got unpleasantly warm, he thought of the wind,
-and called out: “Oh, Wind, come to my help!” and the Wind said: “Why,
-there is that noble domestic bird in trouble. I will help him.” So he
-came down the chimney, blew out the fire, blew the lid off the pot,
-and blew the cock far away into the air, and at last settled him on a
-steeple, where the cock has remained ever since. And people say that
-the halfpence which were in the pot when it was boiling have given him
-the queer brown colour he still wears.
-
- _From the Spanish._
-
-
-SNEGOURKA.
-
-There lived once, in Russia, a peasant and his wife who would have been
-as happy as the day is long, if only God had given them a little child.
-
-One day, as they were watching the children playing in the snow, the
-man said to the woman:
-
-“Wife, shall we go out and help the children to make a snowball?”
-
-But the wife answered, smiling:
-
-“Nay, husband, but since God has given us no little child, let us go
-and fashion one from the snow.”
-
-And she put on her long blue cloak, and he put on his long brown coat,
-and they went out onto the crisp snow, and began to fashion the little
-child.
-
-First they made the feet and the legs and the little body, and then
-they took a ball of snow for the head. And at that moment a stranger in
-a long cloak, with his hat well drawn over his face, passed that way,
-and said: “Heaven help your undertaking!”
-
-And the peasants crossed themselves and said: “It is well to ask help
-from Heaven in all we do.”
-
-Then they went on fashioning the little child. And they made two holes
-for the eyes and formed the nose and the mouth. And then--wonder of
-wonders--the little child came alive, and breath came into its nostrils
-and parted lips.
-
-And the man was afeared, and said to his wife: “What have we done?”
-
-And the wife said: “This is the little girl child God has sent us.” And
-she gathered it into her arms, and the loose snow fell away from the
-little creature. Her hair became golden and her eyes were as blue as
-forget-me-nots--but there was no colour in her cheeks, because there
-was no blood in her veins.
-
-In a few days she was like a child of three or four, and in a few
-weeks she seemed to be the age of nine or ten, and ran about gaily and
-prattled with the other children, who loved her so dearly, though she
-was so different from them.
-
-Only, happy as she was, and dearly as her parents loved her, there was
-one terror in her life, and that was the sun. And during the day she
-would run and hide herself in cool, damp places away from the sunshine,
-and this the other children could not understand.
-
-As the Spring advanced and the days grew longer and warmer, little
-Snegourka (for this was the name by which she was known) grew paler
-and thinner, and her mother would often ask her: “What ails you, my
-darling?” and Snegourka would say: “Nothing Mother, but I wish the sun
-were not so bright.”
-
-One day, on St. John's Day, the children of the village came to fetch
-her for a day in the woods, and they gathered flowers for her and did
-all they could to make her happy, but it was only when the great red
-sun went down that Snegourka drew a deep breath of relief and spread
-her little hands out to the cool evening air. And the boys, glad at
-her gladness, said: “Let us do something for Snegourka. Let us light a
-bonfire.” And Snegourka, not knowing what a bonfire was, she clapped
-her hands and was as merry and eager as they. And she helped them
-gather the sticks, and then they all stood round the pile and the boys
-set fire to the wood.
-
-Snegourka stood watching the flames and listening to the crackle of
-the wood; and then suddenly they heard a tiny sound--and looking at
-the place where Snegourka had been standing, they saw nothing but a
-little snowdrift fast melting. And they called and called, “Snegourka!
-Snegourka!” thinking she had run into the forest. But there was no
-answer. Snegourka had disappeared from this life as mysteriously as she
-had come into it.
-
- _From the Russian, adapted for narration by M.T.S._
-
-
-THE WATER NIXIE.
-
-The river was so clear because it was the home of a very beautiful
-Water Nixie who lived in it, and who sometimes could emerge from her
-home and sit in woman's form upon the bank. She had a dark green smock
-upon her, the colour of the water-weed that waves as the water wills
-it, deep, deep down. And in her long wet hair were the white flowers
-of the water-violet, and she held a reed mace in her hand. Her face
-was very sad, because she had lived a long life, and known so many
-adventures, ever since she was a baby, which was nearly a hundred years
-ago. For creatures of the streams and trees live a long, long time, and
-when they die they lose themselves in Nature. That means that they are
-forever clouds, or trees, or rivers, and never have the form of men and
-women again.
-
-All water creatures would live, if they might choose it, in the sea,
-where they are born. It is in the sea they float hand-in-hand upon
-the crested billows, and sink deep in the great troughs of the strong
-waves, that are green as jade. They follow the foam and lose themselves
-in the wide ocean:
-
- Where great whales come sailing by,
- Sail and sail with unshut eye;
- And they store in the Sea King's palace
- The golden phosphor of the sea.
-
-But this Water Nixie had lost her happiness through not being good.
-She had forgotten many things that had been told her, and she had
-done many things that grieved others. She had stolen somebody else's
-property--quite a large bundle of happiness--which belonged elsewhere
-and not to her. Happiness is generally made to fit the person who owns
-it, just as do your shoes, or clothes; so that when you take some one
-else's it's very little good to you, for it fits badly, and you can
-never forget it isn't yours.
-
-So what with one thing and another, this Water Nixie had to be
-punished, and the Queen of the Sea had banished her from the waves. The
-punishment that can most affect merfolk is to restrict their freedom.
-And this is how the Queen of the Sea punished the Nixie of our tale.
-
-“You shall live for a long time in little places, where you will weary
-of yourself. You will learn to know yourself so well that everything
-you want will seem too good for you, and you will cease to claim it.
-And so, in time, you shall get free.”
-
-Then the Nixie had to rise up and go away, and be shut into the
-fastness of a very small space, according to the words of the Queen.
-And this small space was--a tear.
-
-At first she could hardly express her misery, and by thinking so
-continuously of the wideness and savour of the sea, she brought a dash
-of the brine with her, that makes the saltness of our tears. She became
-many times smaller than her own stature; even then, by standing upright
-and spreading wide her arms, she touched with her finger-tips the walls
-of her tiny crystal home. How she longed that this tear might be wept,
-and the walls of her prison shattered. But the owner of this tear was
-of a very proud nature, and she was so sad that tears seemed to her in
-no wise to express her grief.
-
-She was a Princess who lived in a country that was not her home. What
-were tears to her? If she could have stood on the top of the very
-highest hill and with both hands caught the great winds of heaven,
-strong as they, and striven with them, perhaps she might have felt
-as if she expressed all she knew. Or, if she could have torn down the
-stars from the heavens, or cast her mantle over the sun. But tears!
-Would they have helped to tell her sorrow? You cry if you soil your
-copy-book, don't you? or pinch your hand? So you may imagine the
-Nixie's home was a safe one, and she turned round and round in the
-captivity of that tear.
-
-For twenty years she dwelt in that strong heart, till she grew to be
-accustomed to her cell. At last, in this wise came her release.
-
-An old gipsy came one morning to the Castle and begged to see the
-Princess. She must see her, she cried. And the Princess came down the
-steps to meet her, and the gipsy gave her a small roll of paper in her
-hand. And the roll of paper smelt like honey as she took it, and it
-adhered to her palm as she opened it. There was little sign of writing
-on the paper, but in the midst of the page was a picture, small as the
-picture reflected in the iris of an eye. The picture shewed a hill,
-with one tree on the sky-line, and a long road wound round the hill.
-
-And suddenly in the Princess' memory a voice spoke to her. Many sounds
-she heard, gathered up into one great silence, like the quiet there is
-in forest spaces, when it is Summer and the green is deep:
-
-Then the Princess gave the gipsy two golden pieces, and went up to her
-chamber, and long that night she sat, looking out upon the sky.
-
-She had no need to look upon the honeyed scroll, though she held it
-closely. Clearly before her did she see that small picture: the hill,
-and the tree, and the winding road, imaged as if mirrored in the iris
-of an eye. And in her memory she was upon that road, and the hill rose
-beside her, and the little tree was outlined every twig of it against
-the sky.
-
-And as she saw all this, an overwhelming love of the place arose in
-her, a love of that certain bit of country that was so sharp and
-strong, that it stung and swayed her, as she leaned on the window-sill.
-
-And because the love of a country is one of the deepest loves you may
-feel, the band of her control was loosened, and the tears came welling
-to her eyes. Up they brimmed and over, in salty rush and follow,
-dimming her eyes, magnifying everything, speared for a moment on her
-eyelashes, then shimmering to their fall. And at last came the tear
-that held the disobedient Nixie.
-
-Splish! it fell. And she was free.
-
-If you could have seen how pretty she looked standing there, about the
-height of a grass-blade, wringing out her long wet hair. Every bit of
-moisture she wrung out of it, she was so glad to be quit of that tear.
-Then she raised her two arms above her in one delicious stretch, and if
-you had been the size of a mustard-seed perhaps you might have heard
-her laughing. Then she grew a little, and grew and grew, till she was
-about the height of a bluebell, and as slender to see.
-
-She stood looking at the splash on the window-sill that had been her
-prison so long, and then, with three steps of her bare feet, she
-reached the jessamine that was growing by the window, and by this she
-swung herself to the ground.
-
-Away she sped over the dew-drenched meadows till she came to the
-running brook, and with all her longing in her outstretched hands,
-she kneeled down by the crooked willows among all the comfrey and the
-loosestrife, and the yellow irises and the reeds.
-
-Then she slid into the wide, cool stream.
-
- PAMELA TENNANT (Lady Glenconner).
- _From “The Children and the Pictures”_
-
-
-THE BLUE ROSE.
-
-There lived once upon a time in China a wise Emperor who had one
-daughter. His daughter was remarkable for her perfect beauty. Her
-feet were the smallest in the world; her eyes were long and slanting
-and bright as brown onyxes, and when you heard her laugh it was like
-listening to a tinkling stream or to the chimes of a silver bell.
-Moreover, the Emperor's daughter was as wise as she was beautiful,
-and she chanted the verse of the great poets better than anyone in
-the land. The Emperor was old in years; his son was married and had
-begotten a son; he was, therefore, quite happy with regard to the
-succession to the throne, but he wished before he died to see his
-daughter wedded to someone who should be worthy of her.
-
-Many suitors presented themselves to the palace as soon as it became
-known that the Emperor desired a son-in-law, but when they reached the
-palace they were met by the Lord Chamberlain, who told them that the
-Emperor had decided that only the man who found and brought back the
-blue rose should marry his daughter. The suitors were much puzzled by
-this order. What was the blue rose and where was it to be found? In all
-a hundred and fifty suitors had presented themselves, and out of these
-fifty at once put away from them all thought of winning the hand of the
-Emperor's daughter, since they considered the condition imposed to be
-absurd.
-
-The other hundred set about trying to find the blue rose. One of them,
-whose name was Ti-Fun-Ti, was a merchant, and immensely rich: he at
-once went to the largest shop in the town and said to the shopkeeper,
-“I want a blue rose, the best you have.”
-
-The shopkeeper with many apologies, explained that he did not stock
-blue roses. He had red roses in profusion, white, pink, and yellow
-roses, but no blue roses. There had hitherto been no demand for the
-article.
-
-“Well,” said Ti-Fun-Ti, “you must get one for me. I do not mind how
-much money it costs, but I must have a blue rose.”
-
-The shopkeeper said he would do his best, but he feared it would be an
-expensive article and difficult to procure. Another of the suitors,
-whose name I have forgotten, was a warrior, and extremely brave; he
-mounted his horse, and taking with him a hundred archers and a thousand
-horsemen, he marched into the territory of the King of the Five Rivers,
-whom he knew to be the richest king in the world and the possessor of
-the rarest treasures, and demanded of him the blue rose, threatening
-him with a terrible doom should he be reluctant to give it up.
-
-The King of the Five Rivers, who disliked soldiers, and had a horror
-of noise, physical violence, and every kind of fuss (his bodyguard was
-armed solely with fans and sunshades), rose from the cushions on which
-he was lying when the demand was made, and, tinkling a small bell, said
-to the servant who straightway appeared, “Fetch me the blue rose.”
-
-The servant retired and returned presently bearing on a silken cushion
-a large sapphire which was carved so as to imitate a full-blown rose
-with all its petals.
-
-“This,” said the King of the Five Rivers, “is the blue rose. You are
-welcome to it.”
-
-The warrior took it, and after making brief, soldier-like thanks, he
-went straight back to the Emperor's palace, saying that he had lost
-no time in finding the blue rose. He was ushered into the presence of
-the Emperor, who as soon as he heard the warrior's story and saw the
-blue rose which had been brought sent for his daughter and said to her:
-“This intrepid warrior has brought you what he claims to be the blue
-rose. Has he accomplished the quest?”
-
-The Princess took the precious object in her hands, and after examining
-it for a moment, said: “This is not a rose at all. It is a sapphire;
-I have no need of precious stones.” And she returned the stone to the
-warrior with many elegantly expressed thanks. And the warrior went away
-in discomfiture.
-
-The merchant, hearing of the warrior's failure, was all the more
-anxious to win the prize. He sought the shopkeeper and said to him:
-“Have you got me the blue rose? I trust you have; because, if not, I
-shall most assuredly be the means of your death. My brother-in-law
-is chief magistrate, and I am allied by marriage to all the chief
-officials in the kingdom.”
-
-The shopkeeper turned pale and said: “Sir, give me three days and I
-will procure you the rose without fail.” The merchant granted him the
-three days and went away. Now the shopkeeper was at his wit's end as to
-what to do, for he knew well there was no such thing as a blue rose.
-For two days he did nothing but moan and wring his hands, and on the
-third day he went to his wife and said: “Wife, we are ruined.”
-
-But his wife, who was a sensible woman, said: “Nonsense. If there is no
-such thing as a blue rose we must make one. Go to the chemist and ask
-him for a strong dye which will change a white rose into a blue one.”
-
-So the shopkeeper went to the chemist and asked him for a dye, and the
-chemist gave him a bottle of red liquid, telling him to pick a white
-rose and to dip its stalk into the liquid and the rose would turn blue.
-The shopkeeper did as he was told; the rose turned into a beautiful
-blue and the shopkeeper took it to the merchant, who at once went with
-it to the palace saying that he had found the blue rose.
-
-He was ushered into the presence of the Emperor, who as soon as he saw
-the blue rose sent for his daughter and said to her: “This wealthy
-merchant has brought you what he claims to be the blue rose. Has he
-accomplished the quest?”
-
-The Princess took the flower in her hands and after examining it for
-a moment said: “This is a white rose; its stalk has been dipped in a
-poisonous dye and it has turned blue. Were a butterfly to settle upon
-it, it would die of the potent fume. Take it back. I have no need of a
-dyed rose.” And she returned it to the merchant with many elegantly
-expressed thanks.
-
-The other ninety-eight suitors all sought in various ways for the
-blue rose. Some of them travelled all over the world seeking it; some
-of them sought the aid of wizards and astrologers, and one did not
-hesitate to invoke the help of the dwarfs that live underground; but
-all of them, whether they travelled in far countries or took counsel
-with wizards and demons or sat pondering in lonely places, failed to
-find the blue rose.
-
-At last they all abandoned the quest except the Lord Chief Justice,
-who was the most skilful lawyer and statesman in the country. After
-thinking over the matter for several months he sent for the most famous
-artist in the country and said to him: “Make me a china cup. Let it be
-milk-white in colour and perfect in shape, and paint on it a rose, a
-blue rose.”
-
-The artist made obeisance and withdrew, and worked for two months at
-the Lord Chief Justice's cup. In two months' time it was finished, and
-the world has never seen such a beautiful cup, so perfect in symmetry,
-so delicate in texture, and the rose on it, the blue rose, was a living
-flower, picked in fairyland and floating on the rare milky surface
-of the porcelain. When the Lord Chief Justice saw it he gasped with
-surprise and pleasure, for he was a great lover of porcelain, and never
-in his life had he seen such a piece. He said to himself, “Without
-doubt the blue rose is here on this cup and nowhere else.”
-
-So, after handsomely rewarding the artist, he went to the Emperor's
-palace and said that he had brought the blue rose. He was ushered into
-the Emperor's presence, who as he saw the cup sent for his daughter and
-said to her: “This eminent lawyer has brought you what he claims to be
-the blue rose. Has he accomplished the quest?”
-
-The Princess took the bowl in her hands, and after examining it for a
-moment said: “This bowl is the most beautiful piece of china I have
-ever seen. If you are kind enough to let me keep it I will put it aside
-until I receive the blue rose. For so beautiful is it that no other
-flower is worthy to be put in it except the blue rose.”
-
-The Lord Chief Justice thanked the Princess for accepting the bowl with
-many elegantly turned phrases, and he went away in discomfiture.
-
-After this there was no one in the whole country who ventured on the
-quest of the blue rose. It happened that not long after the Lord
-Chief Justice's attempt a strolling minstrel visited the kingdom of
-the Emperor. One evening he was playing his one-stringed instrument
-outside a dark wall. It was a summer's evening, and the sun had sunk
-in a glory of dusty gold, and in the violet twilight one or two stars
-were twinkling like spear-heads. There was an incessant noise made by
-the croaking of frogs and the chatter of grasshoppers. The minstrel
-was singing a short song over and over again to a monotonous tune. The
-sense of it was something like this:
-
- I watched beside the willow trees
- The river, as the evening fell,
- The twilight came and brought no breeze,
- Nor dew, nor water for the well.
-
- When from the tangled banks of grass
- A bird across the water flew,
- And in the river's hard grey glass
- I saw a flash of azure blue.
-
-As he sang he heard a rustle on the wall, and looking up he saw a
-slight figure white against the twilight, beckoning to him. He walked
-along the wall until he came to a gate, and there someone was waiting
-for him, and he was gently led into the shadow of a dark cedar tree.
-In the dim twilight he saw two bright eyes looking at him, and he
-understood their message. In the twilight a thousand meaningless
-nothings were whispered in the light of the stars, and the hours fled
-swiftly. When the East began to grow light, the Princess (for it was
-she) said it was time to go.
-
-“But,” said the minstrel, “to-morrow I shall come to the palace and ask
-for your hand.”
-
-“Alas!” said the Princess, “I would that were possible, but my father
-has made a foolish condition that only he may wed me who finds the blue
-rose.”
-
-“That is simple,” said the minstrel. “I will find it.” And they said
-good-night to each other.
-
-The next morning the minstrel went to the palace, and on his way he
-picked a common white rose from a wayside garden. He was ushered into
-the Emperor's presence, who sent for his daughter and said to her:
-“This penniless minstrel has brought you what he claims to be the blue
-rose. Has he accomplished the quest?”
-
-The Princess took the rose in her hands and said: “Yes, this is without
-doubt the blue rose.”
-
-But the Lord Chief Justice and all who were present respectfully
-pointed out that the rose was a common white rose and not a blue one,
-and the objection was with many forms and phrases conveyed to the
-Princess.
-
-“I think the rose is blue,” said the Princess. “Perhaps you are all
-colour blind.”
-
-The Emperor, with whom the decision rested, decided that if the
-Princess thought the rose was blue it was blue, for it was well known
-that her perception was more acute than that of any one else in the
-kingdom.
-
-So the minstrel married the Princess, and they settled on the sea coast
-in a little seen house with a garden full of white roses, and they
-lived happily for ever afterwards. And the Emperor, knowing that his
-daughter had made a good match, died in peace.
-
- MAURICE BARING.
-
-
-THE TWO FROGS.
-
-Once upon a time in the country of Japan there lived two frogs, one of
-whom made his home in a ditch near the town of Osaka, on the sea coast,
-while the other dwelt in a clear little stream which ran through the
-city of Kioto. At such a great distance apart; they had never even
-heard of each other; but, funnily enough, the idea came into both their
-heads at once that they should like to see a little of the world, and
-the frog who lived at Kioto wanted to visit Osaka, and the frog who
-lived at Osaka wished to go to Kioto, where the great Mikado had his
-palace.
-
-So one fine morning, in the spring, they both set out along the road
-that led from Kioto to Osaka, one from one end and the other from the
-other.
-
-The journey was more tiring than they expected, for they did not know
-much about travelling, and half-way between the two towns there rose
-a mountain which had to be climbed. It took them a long time and a
-great many hops to reach the top, but there they were at last, and
-what was the surprise of each to see another frog before him! They
-looked at each other for a moment without speaking, and then fell into
-conversation, and explained the cause of their meeting so far from
-their homes. It was delightful to find that they both felt the same
-wish--to learn a little more of their native country--and as there was
-no sort of hurry they stretched themselves out in a cool, damp place,
-and agreed that they would have a good rest before they parted to go
-their ways.
-
-“What a pity we are not bigger,” said the Osaka frog, “and then we
-could see both towns from here and tell if it is worth our while going
-on.”
-
-“Oh, that is easily managed,” returned the Kioto frog. “We have only
-got to stand up on our hind legs, and hold on to each other, and then
-we can each look at the town he is travelling to.”
-
-This idea pleased the Osaka frog so much that he at once jumped up and
-put his front paws on the shoulder of his friend, who had risen also.
-There they both stood, stretching themselves as high as they could, and
-holding each other tightly, so that they might not fall down. The Kioto
-frog turned his nose towards Osaka, and the Osaka frog turned his nose
-towards Kioto; but the foolish things forgot that when they stood up
-their great eyes lay in the backs of their heads, and that though their
-noses might point to the places to which they wanted to go, their eyes
-beheld the places from which they had come.
-
-“Dear me!” cried the Osaka frog, “Kioto is exactly like Osaka. It is
-certainly not worth such a long journey. I shall go home.”
-
-“If I had had any idea that Osaka was only a copy of Kioto I should
-never have travelled all this way,” exclaimed the frog from Kioto, and
-as he spoke, he took his hands from his friend's shoulders and they
-both fell down on the grass.
-
-Then they took a polite farewell of each other, and set off for home
-again, and to the end of their lives they believed that Osaka and
-Kioto, which are as different to look at as two towns can be, were as
-like as two peas.
-
-
-THE WISE OLD SHEPHERD.
-
-Once upon a time, a Snake went out of his hole to take an airing. He
-crawled about, greatly enjoying the scenery and the fresh whiff of the
-breeze, until, seeing an open door, he went in. Now this door was the
-door of the palace of the King, and inside was the King himself, with
-all his courtiers.
-
-Imagine their horror at seeing a huge Snake crawling in at the door.
-They all ran away except the King, who felt that his rank forbade him
-to be a coward, and the King's son. The King called out for somebody to
-come and kill the Snake; but this horrified them still more, because
-in that country the people believed it to be wicked to kill any living
-thing, even snakes and scorpions and wasps. So the courtiers did
-nothing, but the young Prince obeyed his father, and killed the Snake
-with his stick.
-
-After a while the Snake's wife became anxious and set out in search of
-her husband. She too saw the open door of the palace, and in she went.
-O horror! there on the floor lay the body of her husband, all covered
-with blood and quite dead. No one saw the Snake's Wife crawl in; she
-inquired of a white ant what had happened, and when she found that the
-young Prince had killed her husband, she made a vow that, as he had
-made her a widow, so she would make his wife a widow.
-
-That night, when all the world was asleep, the Snake crept into the
-Prince's bedroom, and coiled round his neck. The Prince slept on,
-and when he awoke in the morning, he was surprised to find his neck
-encircled with the coils of a snake. He was afraid to stir, so there he
-remained, until the Prince's mother became anxious and went to see what
-was the matter. When she entered his room, and saw him in this plight,
-she gave a loud shriek, and ran off to tell the King.
-
-“Call the archers,” said the King.
-
-The archers came, and the King told them to go to the Prince's room,
-and shoot the Snake that was coiled about his neck. They were so
-clever, that they could easily do this without hurting the Prince at
-all.
-
-In came the archers in a row, fitted the arrows to the bows, the bows
-were raised and ready to shoot, when, on a sudden, from the Snake there
-issued a voice which spoke as follows:
-
-“O archers, wait, wait and hear me before you shoot. It is not fair to
-carry out the sentence before you have heard the case. Is not this a
-good law: an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth? Is it not so, O
-King?”
-
-“Yes,” replied the King, “that is our law.”
-
-“Then,” said the Snake, “I plead the law. Your son has made me a widow,
-so it is fair and right that I should make his wife a widow.”
-
-“That sounds right enough,” said the King, “but right and law are not
-always the same thing. We had better ask somebody who knows.”
-
-They asked all the judges, but none of them could tell the law of the
-matter. They shook their heads, and said they would look up all their
-law-books, and see whether anything of the sort had ever happened
-before, and if so, how it had been decided. That is the way judges used
-to decide cases in that country, though I daresay it sounds to you a
-very funny way. It looked as if they had not much sense in their own
-heads, and perhaps that was true. The upshot of it all was that not a
-judge would give an opinion; so the King sent messengers all over the
-countryside, to see if they could find somebody who knew something.
-
-One of these messengers found a party of five shepherds, who were
-sitting upon a hill and trying to decide a quarrel of their own. They
-gave their opinions so freely, and in language so very strong, that
-the King's messenger said to himself, “Here are the men for us. Here
-are five men, each with an opinion of his own, and all different.”
-Post-haste he scurried back to the King, and told him that he had
-found at last some one ready to judge the knotty point.
-
-So the King and the Queen, and the Prince and Princess, and all the
-courtiers, got on horseback, and away they galloped to the hill
-whereupon the five shepherds were sitting, and the Snake too went with
-them, coiled round the neck of the Prince.
-
-When they got to the shepherds' hill, the shepherds were dreadfully
-frightened. At first they thought that the strangers were a gang of
-robbers, and when they saw it was the King their next thought was
-that one of their misdeeds had been found out; and each of them began
-thinking what was the last thing he had done, and wondering, was it
-that?
-
-But the King and the courtiers got off their horses, and said good day
-in the most civil way. So the shepherds felt their minds set at ease
-again. Then the King said:
-
-“Worthy shepherds, we have a question to put to you, which not all the
-judges in all the courts of my city have been able to solve. Here is my
-son, and here, as you see, is a snake coiled round his neck. Now, the
-husband of this Snake came creeping into my palace hall, and my son the
-Prince killed him; so this Snake, who is the wife of the other, says
-that, as my son has made her a widow, so she has a right to widow my
-son's wife. What do you think about it?”
-
-The first shepherd said: “I think she is quite right, my Lord the King.
-If anyone made my wife a widow, I would pretty soon do the same to him.”
-
-This was brave language, and the other shepherds shook their heads and
-looked fierce. But the King was puzzled, and could not quite understand
-it. You see, in the first place, if the man's wife were a widow,
-the man would be dead; and then it is hard to see that he could do
-anything. So, to make sure, the King asked the second shepherd whether
-that was his opinion too.
-
-“Yes,” said the second shepherd; “now the Prince has killed the Snake,
-the Snake has a right to kill the Prince if he can.” But that was not
-of much use either, as the Snake was as dead as a door-nail. So the
-King passed on to the third.
-
-“I agree with my mates,” said the third shepherd. “Because, you see, a
-Prince is a Prince, but then a Snake is a Snake.” That was quite true,
-they all admitted, but it did not seem to help the matter much. Then
-the King asked the fourth shepherd to say what he thought.
-
-The fourth shepherd said: “An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth;
-so I think a widow should be a widow, if so be she don't marry again.”
-
-By this time the poor King was so puzzled that he hardly knew whether
-he stood on his head or his heels. But there was still the fifth
-shepherd left; the oldest and wisest of them all; and the fifth
-shepherd said:
-
-“King, I should like to ask two questions.”
-
-“Ask twenty, if you like,” said the King. He did not promise to answer
-them, so he could afford to be generous.
-
-“First, I ask the Princess how many sons she has?”
-
-“Four,” said the Princess.
-
-“And how many sons has Mistress Snake here?”
-
-“Seven,” said the Snake.
-
-“Then,” said the old shepherd, “it will be quite fair for Mistress
-Snake to kill his Highness the Prince when her Highness the Princess
-has had three sons more.”
-
-“I never thought of that,” said the Snake. “Good-bye, King, and all
-you good people. Send a message when the Princess has had three more
-sons, and you may count upon me--I will not fail you.”
-
-So saying, she uncoiled from the Prince's neck and slid away among the
-grass.
-
-The King and the Prince and everybody shook hands with the wise old
-shepherd, and went home again. And the Princess never had any more sons
-at all. She and the Prince lived happily for many years; and if they
-are not dead they are living still.
-
- _From “The Talking Thrush.”_
-
-
-THE TRUE SPIRIT OF A FESTIVAL DAY.
-
-And it came to pass that the Buddha was born a Hare and lived in a
-wood; on one side was the foot of a mountain, on another a river, on
-the third side a border village.
-
-And with him lived three friends: a Monkey, a Jackal and an Otter; each
-of these creatures got food on his own hunting ground. In the evening
-they met together, and the Hare taught his companions many wise things:
-that the moral laws should be observed, that alms should be given to
-the poor, and that holy days should be kept.
-
-One day the Buddha said: “To-morrow is a fast day. Feed any beggars
-that come to you by giving food from your own table.” They all
-consented.
-
-The next day the Otter went down to the bank of the Ganges to seek
-his prey. Now a fisherman had landed seven red fish and had buried
-them in the sand on the river's bank while he went down the stream
-catching more fish. The Otter scented the buried fish, dug up the sand
-till he came upon them, and he called aloud: “Does any one own these
-fish?” And not seeing the owner, he laid the fish in the jungle where
-he dwelt, intending to eat them at a fitting time. Then he lay down,
-thinking how virtuous he was.
-
-The Jackal also went off in search of food, and found in the hut of a
-field watcher a lizard, two spits, and a pot of milk-curd.
-
-And, after thrice crying aloud, “To whom do these belong?” and not
-finding an owner, he put on his neck the rope for lifting the pot, and
-grasping the spits and lizard with his teeth, he laid them in his own
-lair, thinking, “In due season I will devour them,” and then he lay
-down, thinking how virtuous he had been.
-
-The Monkey entered the clump of trees, and gathering a bunch of
-mangoes, laid them up in his part of the jungle, meaning to eat them in
-due season. He then lay down and thought how virtuous he had been.
-
-But the Hare (who was the Buddha-to-be) in due time came out, thinking
-to lie (in contemplation) on the Kuca grass. “It is impossible for me
-to offer grass to any beggars who may chance to come by, and I have no
-oil or rice or fish. If any beggar come to me, I will give him (of) my
-own flesh to eat.”
-
-Now when Sakka, the King of the Gods, heard this thing, he determined
-to put the Royal Hare to the test. So he came in disguise of a Brahmin
-to the Otter and said: “Wise Sir, if I could get something to eat, I
-would perform all my priestly duties.”
-
-The Otter said: “I will give you food. Seven red fish have I safely
-brought to land from the sacred river of the Ganges. Eat thy fill, O
-Brahmin, and stay in this wood.”
-
-And the Brahmin said: “Let it be until to-morrow, and I will see to it
-then.”
-
-Then he went to the Jackal, who confessed that he had stolen the food,
-but he begged the Brahmin to accept it and remain in the wood; but the
-Brahmin said: “Let it be until the morrow, and then I will see to it.”
-
-And he came to the Monkey, who offered him the mangoes, and the Brahmin
-answered in the same way.
-
-Then the Brahmin went to the wise Hare, and the Hare said: “Behold, I
-will give you of my flesh to eat. But you must not take life on this
-holy day. When you have piled up the logs I will sacrifice myself by
-falling into the midst of the flames, and when my body is roasted you
-shall eat my flesh and perform all your priestly duties.”
-
-Now when Sakka heard these words he caused a heap of burning coals
-to appear, and the Wisdom Being, rising from the grass, came to the
-place, but before casting himself into the flames he shook himself,
-lest perchance there should be any insects in his coat who might suffer
-death. Then, offering his body as a free gift, he sprang up, and like
-a royal swan, lighting on a bed of lotus in an ecstasy of joy, he
-fell on the heap of live coals. But the flame failed even to heat the
-pores or the hair on the body of the Wisdom Being, and it was as if he
-had entered a region of frost. Then he addressed the Brahmin in these
-words: “Brahmin, the fire that you have kindled is icy cold; it fails
-to heat the pores or the hair on my body. What is the meaning of this?”
-
-“O most wise Hare! I am Sakka, and have come to put your virtue to the
-test.”
-
-And the Buddha in a sweet voice said: “No god or man could find in me
-an unwillingness to die.”
-
-Then Sakka said: “O wise Hare, be thy virtue known to all the ages to
-come.”
-
-And seizing the mountain he squeezed out the juice and daubed on the
-moon the signs of the young hare.
-
-Then he placed him back on the grass that he might continue his Sabbath
-meditation, and returned to Heaven.
-
-And the four creatures lived together and kept the moral law.
-
-
-FILIAL PIETY.
-
-Now it came to pass that the Buddha was re-born in the shape of a
-Parrot, and he greatly excelled all other parrots in his strength and
-beauty. And when he was full grown his father, who had long been the
-leader of the flock in their flights to other climes, said to him: “My
-son, behold my strength is spent! Do thou lead the flock, for I am no
-longer able.” And the Buddha said: “Behold, thou shalt rest. I will
-lead the birds.” And the parrots rejoiced in the strength of their new
-leader, and willingly did they follow him. Now from that day on, the
-Buddha undertook to feed his parents, and would not consent that they
-should do any more work. Each day he led his flock to the Himalaya
-Hills, and when he had eaten his fill of the clumps of rice that grew
-there, he filled his beak with food for the dear parents who were
-waiting his return.
-
-Now there was a man appointed to watch the rice-fields, and he did his
-best to drive the parrots away, but there seemed to be some secret
-power in the leader of this flock which the Keeper could not overcome.
-
-He noticed that the Parrots ate their fill and then flew away, but that
-the Parrot-King not only satisfied his hunger, but carried away rice in
-his beak.
-
-Now he feared there would be no rice left, and he went to his master
-the Brahmin to tell him what had happened; and even as the master
-listened there came to him the thought that the Parrot-King was
-something higher than he seemed, and he loved him even before he saw
-him. But he said nothing of this, and only warned the Keeper that he
-should set a snare and catch the dangerous bird. So the man did as he
-was bidden: he made a small cage and set the snare, and sat down in
-his hut waiting for the birds to come. And soon he saw the Parrot-King
-amidst his flock, who, because he had no greed, sought no richer spot,
-but flew down to the same place in which he had fed the day before.
-
-Now, no sooner had he touched the ground that he felt his feet caught
-in the noose. Then fear crept into his bird-heart, but a stronger
-feeling was there to crush it down, for he thought: “If I cry out the
-Cry of the Captured, my Kinsfolk will be terrified, and they will fly
-away foodless. But if I lie still, then their hunger will be satisfied,
-and they may safely come to my aid.” Thus was the Parrot both brave and
-prudent.
-
-But alas! he did not know that his Kinsfolk had nought of his brave
-spirit. When _they_ had eaten their fill, though they heard the
-thrice-uttered cry of the captured, they flew away, nor heeded the sad
-plight of their leader.
-
-Then was the heart of the Parrot-King sore within him, and he said:
-“All these my kith and kin, and not one to look back on me. Alas! what
-sin have I done?”
-
-The Watchman now heard the cry of the Parrot-King, and the sound of the
-other Parrots flying through the air. “What is that?” he cried, and
-leaving his hut he came to the place where he had laid the snare. There
-he found the captive Parrot; he tied his feet together and brought him
-to the Brahmin, his master. Now, when the Brahmin saw the Parrot-King,
-he felt his strong power, and his heart was full of love to him, but he
-hid his feelings, and said in a voice of anger: “Is thy greed greater
-than that of all other birds? They eat their fill, but thou takest away
-each day more food than thou canst eat. Doest thou this out of hatred
-for me, or dost thou store up the food in some granary for selfish
-greed?”
-
-And the Great Being made answer in a sweet human voice: “I hate thee
-not, O Brahmin. Nor do I store the rice in a granary for selfish greed.
-But this thing I do. Each day I pay a debt which is due--each day I
-grant a loan, and each day I store up a treasure.”
-
-Now the Brahmin could not understand the words of the Buddha (because
-true wisdom had not entered his heart), and he said: “I pray thee, O
-Wondrous Bird, to make these words clear unto me.”
-
-And then the Parrot-King made answer: “I carry food to my ancient
-parents who can no longer seek that food for themselves: thus I pay
-my daily debt. I carry food to my callow chicks whose wings are yet
-ungrown. When I am old they will care for me--this my loan to them. And
-for other birds, weak and helpless of wing, who need the aid of the
-strong, for them I lay up a store; to these I give in charity.”
-
-Then was the Brahmin much moved, and showed the love that was in his
-heart. “Eat thy fill, O Righteous Bird, and let thy Kinsfolk eat too,
-for thy sake.” And he wished to bestow a thousand acres of land upon
-him, but the Great Being would only take a tiny portion round which
-were set boundary stones.
-
-And the Parrot returned with a head of rice, and said: “Arise, dear
-Parents, that I may take you to a place of plenty.” And he told them
-the story of his deliverance.
-
- * * * * *
-
-MY thanks are due to:
-
-Mrs. Josephine Dodge Darkam Bacon, for permission to use an extract
-from “The Madness of Philip,” and to her publishers, Charles Scrivener.
-
-To Messrs. Houghton Mifflin, for permission to use extract from “Thou
-Shalt Not Preach,” by Mr. John Burroughs.
-
-To Messrs. Macmillan & Co., for permission to use “Milking Time” of
-Miss Rossetti.
-
-To Messrs. William Sharp, for permission to use passage from “The
-Divine Adventure,” by “Fiona MacLeod.”
-
-To Miss Ethel Clifford, for permission to use the poem of “The Child.”
-
-To Mr. James Whitcomb Riley and the Robbs Merrill Co., for permission
-to use “The Treasure of the Wise Man.”
-
-To Rev. R. L. Gales, for permission to use the article on “Nursery
-Rhymes” from the _Nation_.
-
-To Mr. Edmund Gosse, for permission to use extracts from “Father and
-Son.”
-
-To Messrs. Chatto and Windus, for permission to use “Essay on Child's
-Play” (from _Virginibus Puerisque_) and other papers.
-
-To Mr. George Allen & Co., for permission to use “Ballad for a Boy,” by
-W. Cory, from “Ionica.”
-
-To Professor Bradley, for permission to quote from his essay on “Poetry
-and Life.”
-
-To Mr. P. A. Barnett, for permission to quote from “The Commonsense of
-Education.”
-
-To Professor Ker, for permission to quote from “Sturla the Historian.”
-
-To Mr. John Russell, for permission to print in full, “A Saga.”
-
-To Messrs. Longmans Green & Co., for permission to use “The Two Frogs,”
-from the Violet Fairy Book, and “To Your Good Health,” from the Crimson
-Fairy Book.
-
-To Mr. Heinemann and Lady Glenconner, for permission to reprint “The
-Water Nixie,” by Pamela Tennant, from “The Children and the Pictures.”
-
-To Mr. Maurice Baring and the Editor of _The Morning Post_, for
-permission to reprint “The Blue Rose” from _The Morning Post_.
-
-To Dr. Walter Rouse and Mr. J. M. Dent, for permission to reprint from
-“The Talking Thrush” the story of “The Wise Old Shepherd.”
-
-To Mr. James Stephens, for permission to reprint “The Man and the Boy.”
-
-To Mr. Harold Barnes, for permission to use version of “The Proud Cock.”
-
-To Mrs. Arnold Glover, for permission to print two of her stories.
-
-To Miss Emilie Poulson, for permission to use her translation of
-Björnsen's poem.
-
-To George Routledge & Son, for permission to use stories from “Eastern
-Stories and Fables.”
-
-To Mrs. W. K. Clifford, for permission to quote from “Very Short
-Stories.”
-
-To Mr. W. Jenkyn Thomas and Mr. Fisher Unwin, for permission to use
-“Arthur in the Cave” from the Welsh Fairy Book.
-
- * * * * *
-
-The following stories are not a representative list: this I have
-endeavoured to give with the story-list preceding. These stories are
-mostly taken from my own _répertoire_, and have so constantly been
-asked for by teachers that I am glad of an opportunity of presenting
-them in full.
-
-Episode from “Sturla the Historian,” to illustrate the value of the art
-of story-telling.
-
-Saga, by John Russell.
-
-St. Christopher, in the version taken from the “_Legenda Aurea_.”
-
-“Arthur in the Cave,” from the “Welsh Fairy Book.”
-
-“Hafiz the Stone-cutter” (adapted from the Oriental).
-
-“To Your Good Health,” from The Crimson Fairy Book.
-
-“The Proud Cock,” from the Spanish.
-
-“Snegourka,” from the Russian.
-
-“The Water Nixie,” by Pamela Tennant.
-
-“The Blue Rose,” by Maurice Baring.
-
-“The Wise old Shepherd,” from “The Talking Thrush.”
-
- * * * * *
-
-I had intended, in this section, to offer an appendix of titles
-of stories and books which would cover all the ground of possible
-narrative in schools; but I have found, since taking up the question,
-so many lists containing standard books and stories, that I have
-decided that this original plan would be a work of supererogation,
-since it would be almost impossible to prepare such a list without the
-certainty of over-lapping. What is really needed is a supplementary
-list to those already published--a specialized list which has been
-gathered together by private research and personal experience. I have
-for many years spent considerable time in the British Museum, and some
-of the principal Libraries in the United States, and I now offer the
-fruit of that labour in the miscellaneous collection contained in this
-chapter. Before giving my own selection, I should like to say that for
-general lists one can use with great profit the following:
-
-
-
-
-LIST OF BOOKS
-
-
-SOURCES OF NORSE STORIES FOR STORY-TELLERS.
-
- Cycles of Stories from the Norse. Part I: Historical Tales. Part
- II: Norse Myths. Part III: Völsunga Saga. Part IV: Frithiof Saga.
- Snorro Sturluson. Stories of the Kings of Norway; done into English
- by William Morris. Page 83-117.
- Snorro Sturluson. A History of the Norse Kings; done into English
- by Samuel Laing. Pages 11-35.
- Snorro Sturluson. Younger Edda. Pages 72, 73, 114-127, 128-130,
- 131-139, 160-164, 184-187, 189-192.
- Morris. Story of Sigurd the Volsung.
- Völsunga Saga. By Eirikr and William Morris.
-
-Other sources from modern books can be found in Mabie, Wilmot Buxton,
-Keans Tappah, Cartwright Pole, Johonnut Anderson. Some of these are
-suitable for children themselves, and contain excellent reading matter.
-
-NOTE.--I most gratefully acknowledge these sources supplied by the
-courtesy of Pittsburg Carnegie Library.
-
- List of stories in compilation by Anna C. Tyler (Supervisor of
- Story-telling in New York).
- Heroism. A reading list for boys and girls.
-
-Both these lists are published by the New York Library, and I have had
-permission to quote both, by the courtesy of the Library.
-
-In that admirable work, “Story-Telling in School and Home,” by Evelyn
-Newcomb Partridge and George Everett Partridge, published by William
-Heinemann, besides a valuable analysis of the Art of Story-Telling,
-there is an excellent list of books and stories.
-
-
-LIST OF BOOKS CONTAINING STORIES OR READING MATTER FOR CHILDREN.
-
-The following list is not of my own making. I have taken it on the
-recommendation of Marion E. Potter, Bertha Tannehill and Emma L. Teich,
-who have compiled the list from twenty-three other lists. I again have
-made a shorter list of the titles, and acknowledge most gratefully the
-kind permission of the H. W. Wilson Company (Minneapolis) to quote from
-their book. The original work, which contains 3,000 titles, is well
-known in the United States under the title of “Children's Catalogue.”
-It is a book which ought to be in every School and Training College
-Library, and I hope my fragmentary selection may make it better known
-in my own country. I regret that I am unable to give publishers or
-reference marks for this American list.
-
- About Old Story-tellers. Mitchell, D. G.
- Boys' Iliad. Perry.
- Jack among the Indians, and Other Stories. G. B. Grinnell.
- Adventure Stories. Hale, E.
- Young Alaskans. Hough, E.
- Aztec Treasure House. Janvier.
- Last Three Soldiers. Skelton, W.
- Under the Lilacs. Alcott, Louisa.
- Moral Pirates. Livingstone, A. W.
- Classics Old and New. Alderman, E. A.
- Boy of a Thousand Years Ago. Comstock, H. R.
- All About Japan. Brane, B. M.
- All About the Russians. Lockes, E. C.
- Children of the Palm Lands. Allen, A. E.
- Italian Child Life. Ambrose, Marietta.
- American Hero Stories. Tappan, E. M.
- Chinese Boy and Girl, Headland, Y. T.
- Viking Tales of the North. Anderson, R. B.
- Animal Stories Re-told from St. Nicholas. Carter, M. H.
- Short Stories of Shy Neighbours. Kelly, M. H.
- Hundred Anecdotes of Animals. Billingham, P. T.
- Books of Saints and Friendly Beasts. Brown, A. F.
- Stories of Animal Life. Holden, C. F.
- Story of a Donkey (Abridged). Segur, S.
- Children of the Cold. Schnatka, F.
- Stories from Plato and other Classic Writers. Burt, M. E.
- Tenting on the Plains. Custer, E.
- To the Front. King, C.
- Stories of Persian Heroes. Firdansi.
- Nelson and his Captains. Fitchett, William H.
- Danish Fairy and Folk Tales. Bay, J. C.
- Evening Tales. Ortoli, F.
- Legends of King Arthur and his Court. Greene, F. N.
- Story of King Arthur. Pyle, H.
- New World Fairy Book. Kenedy, H. A.
- Myths of the Red Children. Wilson, G. L.
- Old Indian Legends. Zitkala, Sa.
- Folk Tales from the Russian. Blumenthal, V. K.
- Wagner Opera Stories. Barker, Grace.
- Lolanu, the Little Cliff-dweller. Bayliss (Mrs. Clara Kern).
- Big People and Little People of Other Lands. Shaw, E. R.
- Children's Stories of the Great Scientists. Wright, H. C.
- Fairy Tales. Lansing, M. F.
- Light Princess, and Other Stories. Macdonald, George.
- Classic Stories for the Little Ones. Mace, J., and McClurey, L. B.
- Old World Wonder Stories. O'Shea, M. V.
- Japanese Fairy Tales Re-told. Williston, T. P.
- Famous Indian Chiefs I Have Known. Hovard, O. O.
- Fanciful Tales. Stockton, F. R.
- Boys' Book of Famous Rulers, from Agamemnon to Napoleon. Farmer, Mrs.
- Lydia Hoyt.
- Favourite Greek Myths, Hyde, T. S.
- Children's Life in the Western Mountains. Foote, Mary (Hallock).
- Gods and Heroes. Francillon, Robert Edward.
- Sa-Zada Tales. Fraser, William Alexander.
- Story of Gretta the Strong. French, Allen.
- Lance of Kanana (Story of Arabia). French, Henry Willard.
- Home Life in all Lands. Morris, C.
- Held Fast for England. Henty.
- Plutarch's Lives. Ginn, Edwin.
- King's Story Book. Gomme, Lawrence.
- Little Journeys to Balkans, European Turkey and Greece. George, M. M.
- Herodotus. White, J. S.
- Classic Myths in English Literature. Gayley, C. M.
- Favourite Greek Myths. Hyde, L. S.
- Stories from the East. Church, A. T.
- Herodotus. Church, A. T.
- Men of Iron. Pyle, H.
- Boys' Heroes. Hale, Edward Everett.
- Strange Stories from History. Eggleston.
- Stories of Other Lands. Johannot, J.
- Book of Nature Myths. Holbrook, Florence.
- Stories of Great Artists. Home, Olive Brown, and Lois, K.
- Russian Grandmother's Wonder Tales. Houghton, Mrs. Louise (Seymour).
- Stories of Famous Children. Hunter, Mary van Brunt.
- Stories of Indian Chieftains. Husted, Mary Hall.
- Stories of Indian Children. Husted, Mary Hall.
- Golden Porch: A Book of Greek Fairy Tales. Hutchinson, W. M. L.
- Indian Boyhood. Eastman, C. H.
- Indian History for Young Folk. Drake, F. S.
- Indian Stories Re-told from St Nicholas. Drake, F. S.
- One Thousand Poems for Children. Ingpen, Roger.
- My Lady Pokahontas. Cooke, J. E.
- In the Sargasso Sea. Janvier, T. A.
- Childhood of Ji-Shib. Jenks, Albert Ernest.
- Stories from Chaucer told to the Children. Kelman, Janet Harvey.
- Stories from the Crusades. Kelman, Janet Harvey.
- New World Fairy Book. Kenedy, Howard Angus.
- Stories of Ancient People. Arnold E. T.
- Stories of Art and Artists. Clement, C.
- Mabinogion (Legends of Wales). Knightley.
- Heroes of Chivalry. Maitland, L.
- Cadet Days: Story of West Point. King, Charles.
- Household Stories for Little Readers. Klingensmith, Annie.
- Boy Travellers in the Russian Empire. Knox, Thomas Wallace.
- Boy Travellers on the Congo. Knox, Thomas Wallace.
- Fairy Book. Laboulaye, Eduard Réné Lefebre.
- Fairy Tales of All Nations. Translated by M. I. Booth. Laboulaye,
- Eduard Réné Lefebre.
- Middle Five (Life of Five Indian Boys at School). La Flesche, Francis.
- Wonderful Adventures of Nils. Lagerlöf, Selma.
- Land of Pluck. Dodge, M. M.
- Land of the Long Night. Du Chaillu, P. B.
- Schoolboy Days in France. Laurie, André.
- Schoolboy Days in Japan. Laurie, André.
- Schoolboy Days in Russia. Laurie, André.
- When I was a Boy in China. Lee, Yan Phon.
- Fifty Famous Stories Re-told. Baldwin.
- Stories from Famous Ballads. Lippincott.
- Wreck of the Golden Fleece. Leighton, Robert.
- Children's Letters, Written to Children by Famous Men and Women.
- Colson, E., and Chittenden, A. G.
- A Story of Abraham Lincoln. Hamilton, M.
-
-
-LITTLE COUSIN SERIES.
-
- Our Little Swedish Cousin. Coburn, C. M.
- Our Little Chinese Cousin. Headland, I. T.
- Our Little Arabian Cousin. Mansfield, B. M.
- Our Little Dutch Cousin. Mansfield, B. M.
- Our Little Egyptian Cousin. Mansfield, B. M.
- Our Little English Cousin. Mansfield, B. M.
- Our Little French Cousin. Mansfield, B. M.
- Our Little Hindu Cousin. Mansfield, B. M.
- Our Little Scotch Cousin. Mansfield, B. M.
- Our Little Alaskan Cousin. Nixon, Roulet M. F.
- Our Little Australian Cousin. Nixon, Roulet M. F.
- Our Little Brazilian Cousin. Nixon, Roulet M. F.
- Our Little Grecian Cousin. Nixon, Roulet M. F.
- Our Little Spanish Cousin. Nixon, Roulet, M. F.
- Our Little Korean Cousin. Pike, H. L.
- Our Little Panama Cousin. Pike, H. L.
- Our Little African Cousin. Wade, M. H.
- Our Little Armenian Cousin. Wade, M. H.
- Our Little Brown Cousin. Wade, M. H.
- Our Little Cuban Cousin. Wade, M. H.
- Our Little Eskimo Cousin. Wade, M. H.
- Our Little Hawaiian Cousin. Wade, M. H.
- Our Little Indian Cousin. Wade, M. H.
- Our Little Irish Cousin. Wade, M. H.
- Our Little Italian Cousin. Wade, M. H.
- Our Little Japanese Cousin. Wade, M. H.
- Our Little Jewish Cousin. Wade, M. H.
- Our Little Norwegian Cousin. Wade, M. H.
- Our Little Philippine Cousin. Wade, M. H.
- Our Little Porto Rican Cousin. Wade, M. H.
- Our Little Siamese Cousin. Wade, M. H.
- Our Little Turkish Cousin. Wade, M. H.
- Our Little Canadian Cousin. Macdonald, E. Roberts.
-
- Little Folk in Brittany. Haines, A. C.
- Little Folks of Many Lands. Chance, L. M.
- Little Lives of Great Men. Hathaway, E. V.
- Little Men. Alcott, L. M.
- Little Royalties. McDougall, I.
- Little Stories of France. Dutton, M. B.
- Little Stories of Germany. Dutton, M. B.
- Lives of Girls who Became Famous. Bolton, S. K.
- Beasts of the Field. Long, William Joseph.
- Wood-Folk at School. Long, William Joseph.
- Long Ago in Greece. Carpenter, E. J.
- Peasant and Prince. Martineau, H.
- Boy Courier of Napoleon. Sprague, W. C.
- Wonder Stories from the Mabinogion. Brooks, E.
- Old Farm Fairies.[55] McConk, Henry Christopher.
- Tenants of an Old Farm.[55] McConk, Henry Christopher.
- At the Back of the North Wind. MacDonald, George.
- Princess and the Goblin. MacDonald, George.
- Cave Boy of the Age of Stone. McIntyre, Margaret A.
- Magna Carta Stories. Gilman, A.
- Early Cave Men. Dopp, K. E.
- Later Cave Men. Dopp, K. E.
- Stories of Roland. Marshall, H. E.
- Crofton Boys. Martineau, Harriet.
- Peats on the Fiord. Martineau, Harriet.
- Peasant and Prince. Martineau, Harriet.
- Child Stories from the Masters. Menafee, Maud.
- Miss Muffet's Christmas Party. Crotchers, S. M.
- Historical Tales: Greek. Morris, Charles.
- Historical Tales: Russian. Morris, Charles.
- Bed-Time Stories. Moulton, Louise Chandler.
- New Bed-Time Stories. Moulton, Louise Chandler.
- Modern Reader's Bible (Children Series). Moulton, F. R. G.
- My Air-Ships. Santos-Dumont.
- Old Norse Stories. Bradish, S. P.
- Through Russian Snows. Henty, G.
- Nine Worlds: Stories from Norse Mythology. Lichfield, M. E.
- Fairy Tales, Narratives and Poems. Norton, George Eliot.
- Modern Vikings. Boyeson, H. H.
- Boyhood in Norway. Boyeson, H. H.
- Old Greek Stories Told Anew. Peabody, J. B.
- Arabian Nights Re-told. Peary, Mrs. Josephine (Diebitsh).
- Heroic Ballads. Montgomery, D. H.
- English Ballads. Perkins, Mrs. Lucy Fitch.
- Boys' Iliad. Perry, Walter Copland.
- Boys' Odyssey. Perry, Walter Copland.
- Tale of Peter Rabbit. Potter, B.
- Tale of Squirrel Nutkin. Potter, B.
- Stories of Old France. Pitman, Leila Webster.
- Boys' and Girls' Plutarch. White, J. S.
- Greek Lives from Plutarch. Byles, C. E.
- My Lady Pokahontas. Cooke, J. E.
- Poems for Children. Rossetti, C. G.
- Children's Book. Scudder, H. E.
- Scottish Chiefs. Porter, Jane.
- Legends of the Red Children. Pratt, Mara Louise.
- Little Nature Studies for Little Folk. Burroughs, John.
- Giant Sun and His Family. Proctor, Mary.
- Stories of Starland. Proctor, Mary.
- Revolutionary Stories Re-told from St. Nicholas. Pyle, Howard.
- Old Tales from Rome. Zimmern, A.
- Stories of the Saints. Chenoweth, C. V. D.
- Sandman: His Farm Stories. Hopkins, W. T.
- Sandman: His Sea Stories. Hopkins, W. T.
- Sandman: His Ship Stories. Hopkins, W. T.
- Schooldays in France. Laurie, A.
- Schooldays in Italy. Laurie, A.
- Schooldays in Japan. Laurie, A.
- Schooldays in Russia. Laurie, A.
- William of Orange (Life Stories for Young People). Schupp, Otto Kar.
- Sea Yarns for Boys. Henderson, W. T.
- Story of Lord Roberts. Sellar, Edmund Francis.
- Story of Nelson. Sellar, Edmund Francis.
- Tent Life in Siberia. Kenman, G.
- Stories from English History. Skae, Hilda I.
- Boys who Became Famous Men (Giotto, Bach, Byron, Gainsborough, Handel,
- Coleridge, Canova, Chopin). Skinner, Harriet Pearl.
- Eskimo Stories. Smith, Mary Emily Estella.
- Some Curious Flyers, Creepers and Swimmers. Johannot, J. Bush Boys.
- Reid, M.
- New Mexico David, and Other Stories. Lummis, C. F.
- Child's History of Spain. Bonner, J.
- Historical Tales: Spanish. Morris, C.
- Story of the Cid. Wilson, C. D.
- Life of Lincoln for Boys. Sparhawk, Frances Campbell.
- Pieces for Every Occasion. Le Rou, C. B.
- Stories from Dante. Chester, N.
- Stories from Old English Poetry. Richardson, A. S.
- Stories from Plato and Other Classic Writers. Burt, M. E.
- Stories in Stone from the Roman Forum. Lovell, I.
- Stories of Brave Days. Carter, M. H.
- Stories of Early England. Buxton, E. M. Wilmot.
- Stories of Heroic Deeds. Johannot, J.
- Stories of Indian Chieftains. Husted, M. H.
- Stories of Insect Life. Weed, C. M., and Mustfeldt, M. E.
- Stories of the Gorilla Country. Du Chaillu, P. B.
- Stories of the Sea told by Sailors. Hale, E. E.
- Stories of War. Hale, E. E.
- Story of Lewis Caroll. Bowman, I.
- Story of Sir Launcelot and his Companions. Pyle, H.
- Queer Little People. Stowe, Harriet Beecher.
- In Clive's Command. Strang, Herbert.
- George Washington Jones (Christmas of a Little Coloured Boy). Stuart,
- Ruth McEnery.
- Story of Babette. Stuart, Ruth McEnery.
- Old Ballads in Prose. Tappan, Eva.
- Lion and Tiger Stories. Carter, M. H.
- True Tales of Birds and Beasts. Jordan, D. S.
- Typical Tales of Fancy, Romance and History from Shakespeare's Plays.
- Raymond, E.
- Young People's Story of Art. Whitcomb, Ida Prentice.
- Young People's Story of Music. Whitcomb, Ida Prentice.
- Tales of Laughter. Wiggin, K. Douglas.
-
-The following miscellaneous list of books and stories is my own. I
-do not mean that none of them have appeared in other lists, but the
-greater number have been sifted from larger lists which I have made
-during the last ten years, more or less.
-
-For English readers I have given the press-marks in the British Museum,
-which will be an economy of time to busy students and teachers. I have
-supplied, in every case where it has been possible, the source of
-the story and the name of the publisher for American readers, but my
-experience as a reader in the libraries of the States brings me to the
-conclusion that all the books of educational value will either be found
-in the main libraries or procured on application even in the small
-towns.
-
-In many cases the stories would have to be shortened and re-arranged.
-The difficulty of finding the sources and obtaining permission has
-deterred me from offering for the present these stories in full.
-
-This being a supplementary list to more general ones, there will
-naturally be absent a large number of standard books which I take for
-granted are known. Nevertheless, I have included the titles of some
-well-known works which ought not to be left out of any list.
-
-
-TITLES OF BOOKS CONTAINING TRANSLATIONS AND ADAPTATIONS OF CLASSICAL
-STORIES.
-
- The Children of the Dawn. Old Tales of Greece. E. Fennemore
- Buckley. 12403 f. 41. Wells, Gardner, Darton & Co.
- Kingsley's Heroes. 012208. e. 22/26. Blackie and Son. (See List of
- Stories.)
- Wonder Stories from Herodotus. (Excellent as a preparation for the
- real old stories.) N. Barrington d'Almeida. 9026.66. S. Harper
- Brothers.
-
-
-TITLES OF BOOKS CONTAINING CLASSICAL STORIES FROM HISTORY RE-TOLD.
-
- Plutarch's Lives for Boys and Girls. Re-told by W. H. Weston.
- 10606. d. 4. T. C. and E. C. Jack.
- Tales from Plutarch. By Jameson Rawbotham. 10606. bb. 3. Fisher
- Unwin.
-
-
-SOURCES OF INDIAN STORIES AND MYTHS.
-
-For an understanding of the inner meaning of these stories, and as a
-preparation for telling them, I should recommend as a useful book of
-reference:
-
- Indian Myths and Legends. By Mackenzie. 04503. f. 26. Gresham
- Publishing House.
-
-The following titles are of books containing stories for narration:
-
- Jacob's Indian Tales. 12411. h. 9. David Nutt.
- Old Deccan Days. Mary Frere. 12411. e.e. 14. John Murray.
- The Talking Thrush. W. H. D. Rouse. 12411. e.e.e. 17. J. M. Dent.
- Wide Awake Stories. 12411. b.b.b. 2. Steel and Temple.
- Indian Nights' Entertainment. Synnerton. 14162. f. 16. Eliot Stock.
- Myths of the Hindus and Buddhists. By Sister Nevedita and Amanda
- Coomara. K.T.C. Swamy. A. I. George Harrap Company. (This volume is
- mainly for reference.)
- Buddhist Birth Stories. T. W. Rhys Davids. 14098. d. 23. Trubner Co.
- Stories of the Buddha Birth. Cowell, Rouse, Neil, Francis. 14098. dd.
- 8. University Press, Cambridge.
-
-As selections of this extensive work:
-
- Eastern Stories and Fables. M. I. Shedlock. George Routledge.
- The Jatakas, Tales of India. Re-told by Ellen C. Babbitt. 012809.
- d. 8. The Century Co.
- Folk-Tales of Kashmir. Knowles. 2318. g. 18. Trübner
- & Co.
- The Jungle-Book. Rudyard Kipling. 012807. ff. 47. Macmillan.
- The Second Jungle-Book. Rudyard Kipling. 012807. k. 57. Macmillan.
- Tibetian Tales. F. A. Shieffner. 2318. g. 7. Trübner & Co.
-
-
-LEGENDS, MYTHS AND FAIRY-TALES.
-
- Classic Myths and Legends. A. H. Hope Moncrieff. 12403. ee. 6. The
- Gresham Publishing House.
- Myths and Folk-Tales of the Russians. Curtin. 2346. e. 6. Sampson Low.
- North-West Slav Legends and Fairy Stories. Erben. (Translated by W. W.
- Strickland.) 12430. i. 44.
- Russian Fairy-Tales. Nisbet Pain. 12431. ee. 18. Lawrence and Bullen.
- Sixty Folk-Tales from Slavonic Sources. Wratislau. 12431. dd. 29.
- Elliot Stock.
- Slavonic Fairy-Tales. F. Naake. 2348. b. 4. Henry S. King.
- Slav Tales. Chodsho. (Translated by Emily J. Harding.) 12411. eee. 2.
- George Allen.
- Chinese Stories. Pitman. 12410. dd. 25. George Harrap & Co.
- Chinese Fairy Tales. Professor Giles. 012201. de. 8. Govans
- International Library.
- Chinese Nights' Entertainment. Adèle Fielde. 12411. h. 4.
- G. P. Putnam.
- Maori Tales. K. M. Clark. 12411. h. 15. Macmillan & Co.
- Papuan Fairy Tales. Annie Ker. 12410. eee. 25. Macmillan & Co.
- Cornwall's Wonderland. Mabel Quiller Couch. 12431. r. 13. J. M. Dent.
- Perrault's Fairy Tales. 012200. e. 8. “The Temple Classics.”
- J. M. Dent.
- Gesta Romanorum. 12411. e. 15. Swan Sonnenschein.
- Myths and Legends of Japan. F. H. Davis. 1241. de. 8. G. Harrap & Co.
- Old World Japan. Frank Rinder. 12411. eee. 3. George Allen.
- Legendary Lore of All Nations. Swinton and Cathcart. 1241. f. 13.
- Ivison, Taylor & Co.
- Popular Tales from the Norse. Sir George Webbe Dasent. 12207. pp.
- George Routledge and Son.
- Fairy Tales from Finland. Zopelius. 12431. df. 2. J. M. Dent.
- Fairy Gold. A Book of Old English Fairy Tales, chosen by Ernest Rhys.
- 12411. dd. 22. J. M. Dent.
- Contes Populaires du Vallon. Aug. Gittée. 12430. h. 44. (Written in
- very simple style and easy of translation.) Wanderpooten Gand.
- Tales of Old Lusitania. Coelho. 12431. e. 34. Swan Sonnenschein.
- Tales from the Land of Nuts and Grapes. Charles Sellers. 12431. c. 38.
- Simpkin, Marshall & Co.
- The English Fairy Book. Ernest Rhys. 12410. dd. 29. Fisher Unwin.
- Zuni Folk Tales. F. H. Cushing. 12411. g. 30. Putnam.
- Manx Fairy Tales. Sophia Morrison. 12410. df. 10. David Nutt.
- Legend of the Iroquois. W. V. Canfield. 12410. ff. 23. A Wessels
- Company.
- The Indian's Book. Natalie Curtis. 2346. i. 2. Harper Brothers.
- Hansa Folk Lore. Rattray. 12431. tt. 2. Clarendon Press.
- Japanese Folk Stories and Fairy Tales. Mary F. Nixon-Roulet.
- 12450. ec. 18. Swan Sonnenschein.
- Kaffir Folk Tales. G. M. Theal. 2348. e. 15. Swan Sonnenschein.
- Old Hungarian Tales. Baroness Orczy and Montagu Barstow. 12411. f. 33.
- Dean and Son.
- Evening with the Old Story-tellers. G.B. 1155. e. I (1). James Burns.
- Myths and Legends of Flowers. C. Skinner. 07029. h. 50. Lippincott.
- The Book of Legends Told Over Again. Horace Scudder. 12430. e. 32. Gay
- and Bird.
- Indian Folk Tales (American Indian). Mary F. Nixon-Roulet. 12411. cc.
- 14. D. Appleton Company.
-
-
-ROMANCE.
-
- Epic and Romance. Professor W. P. Ker. 2310. c. 20. Macmillan. (As
- preparation for the selection of Romance Stories.)
- Old Celtic Romances. P. W. Joyce. 12430. cc. 34. David Nutt.
- Heroes of Asgard. Keary. 012273. de. 6. Macmillan & Co.
- Early British Heroes. Hartley. 12411. d. 5. J. M. Dent & Co.
- A Child's Book of Saints. W. Canton. 12206. r. 11. J. M. Dent.
- A Child's Book of Warriors. W. Canton. 04413. g. 49. J. M. Dent.
- History of Ballads. Professor W. P. Ker. From “Proceedings of British
- Academy.” 11852. Vol. 6 (9).
- History of English Balladry. Egbert Briant. 011853. aaa. 16.
- Richard G. Badger, Gorham Press.
- Book of Ballads for Boys and Girls. Selected by Smith and Soutar.
- 11622. bbb. 3. 7. The Clarendon Press.
- A Book of Ballad Stories. Mary Macleod. 12431. p. 3. Wells, Gardner &
- Co.
- Captive Royal Children. G. T. Whitham. 10806. eee. 2. Wells, Gardner,
- Darton & Co.
- Tales and Talks from History. 9007. h. 24. Blackie & Son.
- Stories from Froissart. Henry Newbolt. 9510. cc. 9. Wells, Gardner,
- Darton & Co.
- Pilgrim Tales from Chaucer. F. J. Harvey Darton. 12410. eee. 14.
- Wells, Gardner & Darton.
- Wonder Book of Romances. F. J. Harvey Darton. 12410. eee. 18. Wells,
- Gardner & Darton.
- Red Romance Book. Andrew Lang. 12411. bbb. 10. Longmans, Green & Co.
- The Garden of Romance. Edited by Ernest Rhys. 12411. h. 17.
- Kegan Paul.
- The Kiltartan Wonderbook. Lady Gregory. 12450. g. 32. Maunsel & Co.
- The Story of Drake. L. Elton. 10601. p. (From “The Children's Heroes”
- Series.)
- Tales from Arabian Nights. 012201. ff. 7/1. Blackie & Sons.
- King Peter. Dion Calthrop, 012632. ccc. 37. Duckworth & Co.
- Tales of the Heroic Ages: Siegfried, Beowulf, Frithjof, Roland.
- Zenaide Ragozin. 12411. eee. G. P. Putnam.
-
-
-TITLES OF MISCELLANEOUS BOOKS CONTAINING MATERIAL FOR NARRATION.
-
- Strange Adventures in Dicky Birdland. Kearton. 12809. ff. 45. Cassell
- & Co.
- Then and Now Stories: Life in England Then and Now; Children Then and
- Now; Story-Tellers Then and Now. W.P. 2221. Macmillan & Co.
- A Book of Bad Children. Trego Webb. 012808. ee. Methuen & Co.
- Land of Play. Ada Wallas. 12813. r. 8. (The story of a Doll-Historian,
- much appreciated by children.) Edward Arnold.
- Tell It Again Stories (For very young children). Elizabeth Thompson
- Dillingham and Adèle Pomers Emerson. 012808. cc. 15. Ginn and Co.
- The Basket Woman. Mrs. Mary Austin. Houghton Mifflin Co.
- The Queen Bee, and Other Stories. Evald. (Translated by C. C. Moore
- Smith.) P.P. 6064 c. Nelson and Sons.
- The Children and the Pictures. Pamela Tennant. 12804. tt. 10. William
- Heinemann.
- Stories from the History of Ceylon for Children. Marie Musaus Higgins.
- Capper & Sons.
- Nonsense for Somebody by A. Nobody. 12809. n. 82. Wells, Gardner & Co.
- Graphic Stories for Boys and Girls. Selected from 3, 4, 5, 6 of the
- Graphic Readers. 012866. f. Collins.
- Child Lore. 1451. a. 54. Nimmo.
- Windlestraw (Legends in Rhyme of Plants and Animals). Pamela
- Glenconner. 011651. e. 76. Chiswick Press.
- Deccan Nursery Tales. Kinaid. Macmillan.
- The Indian's Story Book. Richard Wilson. Macmillan.
- Told in Gallant Deeds. A Child's History of the War. Mrs. Belloc
- Lowndes. Nisbet.
-
-I much regret that I have been unable to find a good collection of
-stories from history for Narrative purposes. I have made a careful
-and lengthy search, but apart from the few I have quoted the stories
-are all written from the _reading_ point of view, rather than the
-_telling_. There is a large scope for such a book, but the dramatic
-presentation is the first and chief essential of such a work. These
-stories could be used as supplementary to the readings of the great
-historians. It would be much easier to interest boys and girls in the
-more leisurely account of the historian when they have once been caught
-in the fire of enthusiasm on the dramatic side.
-
-The following is a list of single stories chosen for the dramatic
-qualities which make them suitable for narration. For the Press-marks
-and the publishers it will be necessary to refer back to the list
-containing the book-titles.
-
-
-CLASSICAL STORIES RE-TOLD.
-
- The Story of Theseus (To be told in six parts for a series).
- How Theseus Lifted the Stone.
- How Theseus Slew the Corynetes.
- How Theseus Slew Sinis.
- How Theseus Slew Kerkyon and Procrustes.
- How Theseus Slew Medea and was acknowledged as the Son of Ægeus.
- How Theseus Slew the Minotaur.
- (From Kingsley's Heroes. 012208. e. 22/26. Blackie & Son.)
- The Story of Crœsus.
- The Conspiracy of the Magi.
- Arion and the Dolphin.
- (From Wonder Tales from Herodotus. These are intended for reading,
- but could be shortened for effective narration.)
- Coriolanus.
- Julius Cæsar.
- Aristides.
- Alexander.
- (From Plutarch's Lives for Boys and Girls. These stories must be
- shortened and adapted for narration.)
- The God of the Spears: The Story of Romulus.
- His Father's Crown: The story of Alcibiades.
- (From Tales from Plutarch. F. J. Rowbotham. Both these stories to
- be shortened and told in sections.)
-
-
-INDIAN STORIES.
-
- The Wise Old Shepherd.
- (From The Talking Thrush. Rouse.)
- The Religious Camel.
- (From the same source.)
- Less Inequality than Men Deem.
- The Brahman, the Tiger and the Six Judges.
- Tit for Tat.
- (From Old Deccan Days. Mary Frere.)
- Pride Goeth Before a Fall.
- Harisarman.
- (From Jacob's Indian Fairy Tales.)
- The Bear's Bad Bargain.
- Little Anklebone.
- Peasie and Beansie.
- (From Wide Awake Stories. Flora Annie Steel.)
- The Weaver and the Water Melon.
- The Tiger and the Hare.
- (From Indian Nights' Entertainment. Synnerton.)
- The Virtuous Animals.
- (This story should be abridged and somewhat altered for narration.)
- The Ass as Singer.
- The Wolf and the Sheep.
- (From Tibetian Tales. F. A. Schieffur.)
- A Story about Robbers.
- (From Out of the Far East. Page. 131. Lafcadio Hearn. 10058. de. g.
- Houghton and Mifflin.)
- Dripping.
- (From Indian Fairy Tales. Mark Thornhill. 12431. bbb. 38. Hatchard.)
- The Buddha as Tree-Spirit.
- The Buddha as Parrot.
- The Buddha as King.
- (From Eastern Stories and Fables. George Routledge.)
- Raksas and Bakshas.
- The Bread of Discontent.
- (From Legendary Lore of All Nations. Cathcart and Swinton.)
- A Germ-Destroyer.
- Namgay Doola (A good story for boys, to be given in shortened form).
- (From The Kipling Reader. 1227. t. 7. Macmillan.)
- A Stupid Boy.
- The Clever Jackal (One of the few stories wherein the Jackal shows
- skill combined with gratitude).
- Why the Fish Laughed.
- (From Folk Tales of Kashmir. Knowles.)
-
-
-COMMON SENSE AND RESOURCEFULNESS AND HUMOUR.
-
- The Thief and the Cocoanut Tree.
- The Woman and the Lizard.
- Sada Sada.
- The Shopkeeper and the Robber.
- The Reciter.
- Rich Man's Potsherd.
- Singer and the Donkey.
- Child and Milk.
- Rich Man Giving a Feast.
- King Solomon and the Mosquitoes.
- The King who Promised to Look After Tennel Ranan's Family.
- Vikadakavi.
- Horse and Complainant.
- The Woman and the Stolen Fruit.
- (From An Indian Tale or Two. Swinton. 14171. A. 20. Reprinted from
- Blackheath Local Guide.)
-
-
-TITLES OF BOOKS CONTAINING STORIES FROM HISTORY.
-
- British Sailor Heroes.
- British Soldier Heroes.
- (From the Hero Reader. W.P. 53 ⅓. William Heinemann.)
- The Story of Alfred the Great. A. E. McKillan.
- Alexander the Great. Ada Russell: W.P. 66/5.
- The Story of Jean d'Arc. Wilmot Buxton. W.P. 66/1.
- Marie Antoinette. Alice Birkhead. W.P. 66/2.
- (All these are published by George Harrap.)
-
-
-STORIES FROM THE LIVES OF SAINTS.
-
- The Children's Library of the Saints. Edited by Rev. W. Guy Pearse.
- Printed by Richard Jackson.
- (This is an illustrated penny edition.)
- From the Legenda Aurea. 012200. de.
- The Story of St. Brandon (The Episode of the Birds). Vol 7, page 52.
- The Story of St. Francis. Vol. 6, page 125.
- The Story of Santa Clara and the Roses.
- Saint Elisabeth of Hungary. Vol. 6, page 213.
- St. Martin and the Cloak. Vol. 6, page 142.
- The Legend of St. Marjory.
- (_Tales Facetiæ._ 12350. b. 39.)
- Melangell's Lambs.
- (From The Welsh Fairy Book. W. Jenkyn Thomas. Fisher Unwin.)
- Our Lady's Tumbler. (Twelfth Century Legend told by Philip Wicksteed.
- 012356. e. 59.)
- (J. M. Dent. This story could be shortened and adapted without
- sacrificing too much of the beauty of the style.)
- The Song of the Minster.
- (From William Canton's Book of Saints. K.T.C. a/4. J. M. Dent.
- This should be shortened and somewhat simplified for narration,
- especially in the technical ecclesiastical terms.)
- The Story of St. Kenelm the Little King.
- (From Old English History for Children.)
- The Story of King Alfred and St. Cuthbert.
- The Story of Ædburg, the Daughter of Edward.
- The Story of King Harold's Sickness and Recovery.
-
-I commend all those who tell these stories to read the comments made on
-them by E. A. Freeman himself.
-
- (From Old English History for Children. 012206. ppp. 7. J. M. Dent.
- Everyman Series.)
-
-
-STORIES DEALING WITH THE SUCCESS OF THE YOUNGEST CHILD.
-
-(This is sometimes due to a kind action shown to some humble person or
-to an animal.)
-
- The Three Sons.
- (From The Kiltartan Wonderbook. By Lady Gregory.)
- The Flying Ship.
- (From Russian Fairy Tales. Nisbet Pain.)
- How Jesper Herded the Hares.
- (From The Violet Fairy Book. 12411. ccc. 6.)
- Youth, Life and Death.
- (From Myths and Folk Tales of Russians and Slavs. By Curtin.)
- Jack the Dullard. Hans Christian Andersen.
- (See list of Andersen Stories.)
- The Enchanted Whistle.
- (From The Golden Fairy Book. 12411. c. 36.)
- The King's Three Sons.
- Hunchback and Brothers.
- (From Legends of the French Provinces. 1241. c. 2.)
- The Little Humpbacked Horse. (This story is more suitable for reading
- than telling.)
- (From Russian Wonder Tales. By Post Wheeler. 12410. dd. 30. Adam
- and Charles Black.)
- The Queen Bee. By Grimm. (See full list.)
- The Wonderful Bird.
- (From Roumanian Fairy Tales. Adapted by J. M. Percival. 12431. dd.
- 23. Henry Holt.)
-
-
-LEGENDS, MYTHS, FAIRY TALES AND MISCELLANEOUS STORIES.
-
- How the Herring became King.
- Joe Moore's Story.
- The Mermaid of Gob Ny Ooyl.
- King Magnus Barefoot.
- (From Manx Tales. By Sophia Morrison.)
- The Greedy Man.
- (From Contes Populaires Malgaches. By G. Ferrand. 2348. aaa. 19.
- Ernest Leroux.)
- Arbutus.
- Basil.
- Briony.
- Dandelion.
- (From Legends of Myths and Flowers. C. Skinner.)
- The Magic Picture.
- The Stone Monkey.
- Stealing Peaches.
- The Country of Gentlemen.
- Football on a Lake.
- (From Chinese Fairy Tales. Professor Giles.)
- The Lime Tree.
- Intelligence and Luck.
- The Frost, the Sun and Wind.
- (From Sixty Folk Tales. Wratislaw.)
- The Boy who Slept.
- The Gods Know. (This story must be shortened and adapted for
- narration.)
- (From Chinese Fairy Stories. By Pitman.)
- The Imp Tree.
- The Pixy Flower.
- Tom-Tit Tot.
- The Princess of Colchester.
- (From Fairy Gold. Ernest Rhys.)
- The Origin of the Mole.
- (From Cossack Fairy Tales. Selected by Nisbet Bain. 12431. f. 51.
- Lawrence and Bullen.)
- Dolls and Butterflies.
- (From Myths and Legends of Japan. Chapter VI.)
- The Child of the Forest.
- The Sparrow's Wedding.
- The Moon Maiden.
- (From Old World Japan. By Frank Binder.)
- The Story of Merlin. (For Young People.)
- (Told in Early British Heroes. Harkey.)
- The Isle of the Mystic Lake.
- (From Voyage of Maildun, “Old Celtic Romances.” P. W. Joice.)
- The Story of Baldur. (In Three Parts, for Young Children.)
- (From Heroes of Asgard. M. R. Earle. Macmillan.)
- Adalhero.
- (From Evenings with the Old Story-Tellers. See “Titles of Books.”)
- Martin, the Peasant's Son.
- (This is more suitable for reading. From Russian Wonder Tales. Post
- Wheeler.)
-
-
-MISCELLANEOUS STORIES.
-
- Versions of the Legend of Rip Van Winkle.
- Urashima.
- (From Myths and Legends of Japan. Hadland Davis.)
- The Monk and the Bird.
- (From the Book of Legends-Told Over Again. Horace Scudder.)
- Carob. (Talmud Legend.)
- (From Myths and Legends of Flowers. C. Skinner.)
- The Land of Eternal Youth.
- (From Child-Lore.)
- Catskin.
- Guy of Gisborne.
- King Henry and the Miller.
- (From Stories from Ballads. M. Macleod.)
- The Legend of the Black Prince.
- Why the Wolves no Longer Devour the Lambs on Xmas Night.
- (From Au Pays des Legendes. E. Herpin. 12430. bbb. 30. Hyacinthe
- Calliere.)
- The Coyote and the Locust.
- The Coyote and the Raven.
- (From Zuni Folk Tales. Cushing.)
- The Peacemaker.
- (From Legends of the Iroquois. W. V. Canfield.)
- The Story of the Great Chief of the Animals.
- The Story of Lion and Little Jackal.
- (From Kaffir Folk Tales. G. M. Theal.)
- The Legend of the Great St. Nicholas.
- The Three Counsels.
- (From Bulletin de Folk Lore. Liege. Academies, 987 ½.)
- The Tale of the Peasant Demyar.
- Monkey and the Pomegranate Tree.
- The Ant and the Snow.
- The Value of an Egg.
- The Padre and the Negro.
- Papranka.
- (From Tales of Old Lusitania. Coelho.)
- Kojata.
- The Lost Spear. (To be shortened.)
- The Hermit. By Voltaire.
- The Blue Cat. (From the French.)
- The Silver Penny.
- The Three Sisters.
- The Slippers of Abou-Karem.
- (From The Golden Fairy Book. 12411. e. 36. Hutchinson.)
- The Fairy Baby.
- (From Uncle Remus in Hansaland. By Mary and Newman Tremearne.)
- Why the Sole of a Man's Foot is Uneven.
- The Wonderful Hair.
- The Emperor Trojan's Goat Ears.
- The Language of Animals.
- Handicraft above Everything.
- Just Earnings are Never Lost.
- The Maiden who was Swifter than a Horse.
- (From Servian Stories and Legends.)
- Le Couple Silencieux.
- Le Mort Parlant.
- La Sotte Fiancee.
- Le Cornacon.
- Persin au Pot.
- (From Contes Populaires du Vallon. Aug. Gittée. 12430. h. 44.)
- The Rat and the Cat.
- The Two Thieves.
- The Two Rats.
- The Dog and the Rat.
- (From Contes Populaires Malgaches. 2348. aaa. 19. Gab. Ferrand.)
- Rua and Toka.
- (From The Maori Tales. Clark.)
- John and the Pig. (Old Hungarian Tales.)
- (This story is given for the same purpose as “Long Bow Story.” See
- Andrew Lang's Books.)
- Lady Clare.
- The Wolf-Child.
- (From Land of Grapes and Nuts.)
- The Ungrateful Man.
- The Faithful Servant. (In part.)
- Jovinian the Proud Emperor.
- The Knight and the King of Hungary.
- The Wicked Priest.
- The Emperor Conrad and the Count's Son.
- (From the Gesta Romanorum. 1155. e. I.)
- Virgil, the Emperor and the Truffles.
- (From Unpublished Legends of Virgil. Collected by C. G. Leland.
- 12411. eee. 15. Elliot Stock.)
- Seeing that All was Right. (A good story for boys.)
- La Fortuna.
- The Lanterns of the Strozzi Palace.
- (From Legends of Florence. Re-told by C. G. Leland. 12411. c.cc. 2.
- David Nutt.)
- The Three Kingdoms.
- Yelena the Wise.
- Seven Simeons.
- Ivan, the Bird and the Wolf.
- The Pig, the Deer and the Steed.
- Waters of Youth.
- The Useless Wagoner.
- (These stories need shortening and adapting. From Myths and Folk
- Tales of the Russian. Curtin.)
-
-
-MISCELLANEOUS STORIES TAKEN FROM THE ANDREW LANG BOOKS.
-
- The Serpent's Gifts.
- Unlucky John.
- (From All Sorts of Story Books. 012704. aaa. 35.)
- Makoma. (A story for boys.)
- (From Orange Fairy Book. 12411. c. 36.)
- The Lady of Solace.
- How the Ass Became a Man Again.
- Amys and Amile.
- The Burning of Njal.
- Ogier the Dane.
- (From Red Book of Romance. 12411. bbb. 10.)
- The Heart of a Donkey.
- The Wonderful Tune.
- A French Puck.
- A Fish Story.
- (From The Lilac Fairy Book. 12411. de. 17.)
- East of the Sun and West of the Moon. (As a preparation for Cupid and
- Psyche.)
- (From The Blue Fairy Book. 12411. I. 3.)
- The Half Chick.
- The Story of Hok Lee and the Dwarfs.
- (From The Green Fairy Book. 12411.1. 6.)
- How to Find a True Friend. (To be given in shorter form.)
- (From The Crimson Fairy Book. 12411. c. 20.)
- The Long Bow Story. (This story makes children learn to distinguish
- between falsehood and romance.)
- (From The Olive Fairy Book. 12410. dd. 18.)
- Kanny, the Kangaroo.
- Story of Tom the Bear.
- (From The Animal Story Book.)
- The Story of the Fisherman.
- Aladdin and the Lamp. (This story should be divided and told in two
- sections.)
- The Story of Ali Cogia.
- (From the Arabian Nights Stories of Andrew Lang. All these stories
- are published by Longmans, Green & Co.)
-
-
-The following titles are taken from the “Story-telling Magazine,”
-published 27 West 23rd Street, New York.
-
- March and the Shepherd.
- (Folk Lore from Foreign Lands. January, 1914.)
- The Two Young Lions.
- (From Fénélon's Fables and Fairy Tales. Translated by Marc T.
- Valette. March, 1914.)
- Why the Cat Spits at the Dog. (November, 1913.)
- The Story of Persephone. By R. T. Wyche. (September, 1913.)
- The Story of England's First Poet. By G. P. Krapp.
- (From In Oldest England, July, 1913.)
- The Three Goats. By Jessica Child. (For very young children. July,
- 1913.)
- The Comical History of the Cobbler and the King. (Chap. Book. 12331.
- i. 4.)
- (This story should be shortened to add to the dramatic power.)
-
-
-The two following stories, which are great favourites, should be told
-one after the other, one to illustrate the patient wife, and the other
-the patient husband.
-
- The Fisherman and his Wife. Hans. C. Andersen.
- (See Publishers of Andersen's Stories.)
- Hereafter This.
- (From More English Fairy Tales. By Jacobs. 12411. h. 23. David
- Nutt.)
- How a Man Found his Wife in the Land of the Dead. (This is a very
- dramatic and pagan story, to be used with discretion.)
- The Man without Hands and Feet.
- The Cockerel.
- (From Papuan Fairy Tales. Annie Ker.)
- The Story of Sir Tristram and La Belle Iseult. (To be told in
- shortened form.)
- (From Cornwall's Wonderland. Mabel Quiller Couch.)
- The Cat that Went to the Doctor. The Wood Anemone. Sweeter than Sugar.
- The Raspberry Caterpillar.
- (From Fairy Tales from Finland. Zopelius.)
- Dinevan the Emu.
- Goomble Gubbon the Bustard.
- (From Australian Legendary Lore. By Mrs. Langloh Parker. 12411. h.
- 13.)
- The Tulip Bed.
- (From English Fairy Book. Ernest Rhys.)
-
-I have been asked so often for this particular story: I am glad to be
-able to provide it in very poetical language.
-
- The Fisherman and his Wife.
- The Wolf and the Kids.
- The Adventures of Chanticleer and Partlet.
- The Old Man and his Grandson.
- Rumpelstiltskin.
- The Queen Bee.
- The Wolf and the Man.
- The Golden Goose.
- (From Grimm's Fairy Tales. By Mrs. Edgar Lucas. 12410. dd. 33.
- Constable.)
-
-
-STORIES FROM HANS C. ANDERSEN.
-
-(For young children.)
-
- Ole-Luk-Oie. (Series of seven.)
- What the Old Man Does is Always Right.
- The Princess and the Pea.
- Thumbelina.
-
-(For older children.)
-
- It's Quite True.
- Five Out of One Pod.
- Great Claus and Little Claus.
- Jack the Dullard.
- The Buckwheat.
- The Fir-Tree.
- The Little Tin Soldier.
- The Nightingale.
- The Ugly Duckling.
- The Swineherd.
- The Sea Serpent.
- The Little Match-Girl.
- The Gardener and the Family.
-
-The two best editions of Hans C. Andersen's Fairy Tales are the
-translation by Mrs. Lucas, published by Dent, and the only complete
-English edition, published by W. A. and J. K. Craigie (Humphrey
-Milford, 1914).
-
-
-MISCELLANEOUS MODERN STORIES.
-
- The Summer Princess.
- (From The Enchanted Garden. Mrs. Molesworth. 012803. d. f. T.
- Fisher Unwin. This could be shortened and arranged for narration.)
- Thomas and the Princess. (A Fairy Tale for Grown-Ups, for pure
- relaxation.) By Joseph Conrad.
- (From Twenty-six Ideal Stories for Girls. 012809. e. 1. Hutchinson
- & Co.)
- The Truce of God.
- (From All-Fellowes Seven Legends of Lower Redemption. Laurence
- Housman. 012630. 1. 25. Kegan Paul.)
- The Selfish Giant. By Oscar Wilde. 012356. e. 59. David Nutt.
- The Legend of the Tortoise.
- (From the Provençal. From Windestraw. Pamela Glenconner.) Chiswick
- Press.
- Fairy Grumblesnooks.
- A Bit of Laughter's Smile. By Maud Symonds.
- (From Tales for Little People. Nos. 323 and 318. Aldine Publishing
- Company.)
- The Fairy who Judged her Neighbours.
- (From The Little Wonder Box. By Jean Ingelow. 12806. r. 21.
- Griffiths, Farren & Co.)
-
-
-FOR TEACHERS OF YOUNG CHILDREN.
-
- Le Courage.
- L'Ecole.
- Le Jour de Catherine.
- Jacqueline et Mirant.
- (From Nos Enfants. Anatole France. 12810. dd. 72. Hachette.)
- The Giant and the Jackstraw. By David Starr Jordan.
- (From Una and the Knights. For very small children.)
- The Musician.
- Legend of the Christmas Rose.
- (From The Girl from the Marsh Croft. Selma Lagerlöf. 12581. p. 99.)
- Both these should be shortened and adapted for narration.
-
-I trust that the titles of my stories in this Section may not be
-misleading. Under the titles of “Myths, Legends and Fairy Tales,”
-I have included many which contain valuable ethical teaching, deep
-philosophy and stimulating examples for conduct in life. I regret that
-I have not been able to furnish in my own list many of the stories I
-consider good for narration, but the difficulty of obtaining permission
-has deterred me from further efforts in this direction. I hope,
-however, that teachers and students will look up the book containing
-these stories.
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[55] Both books dealing with insect life.
-
-
-
-
-INDEX
-
-
-Adler, Felix, on animal stories, 80
-
-Adventures of a Beetle, 29
-
-Alice in Wonderland, 57, 136
-
-Analysis of motive and feeling, to be avoided, 43
-
-Andersen, Hans C., 2, 15, 16, 21, 29, 31, 34, 39, 41, 44, 45, 62, 63,
-80, 112, 116, 123, 124, 138, 150, 156, 232
-
-Animal Play, Psychology of, 105
-
-Art, true purpose of, 109
-
-Arthur in the Cave, 165-9
-
-Artifices of story telling, 32
-
-
-Bacon, J. D. D., 12
-
-Ballad for a boy, 107
-
-Baring, M., 193
-
-Barnes, Earl, 60
-
-Barnett, P. A., 104
-
-Barnett, Mrs. P. A., 70
-
-Barrow, E., 40
-
-Beautiful things need appropriate language, 82
-
-Beetle, the, 125
-
-Beginning, should be striking, 39
-
-Belloc's Cautionary Tales, 56
-
-Béranger, 25
-
-Bible Stories, 67
-
-Björnson's tribute to Andersen, 116
-
-Blazing Mansion, the, 74
-
-Bluebeard, 76
-
-Blue Rose, the, 187
-
-‘Blugginess,’ the thirst for, 85
-
-Books, choice of, 61
-
-Bradley, Professor, 119
-
-Brown, T. E., 17
-
-Buddha, stories of, 87, 127, 200, 203
-
-Buffoonery, to be discouraged, 54
-
-Burroughs, John, 58, 108
-
-Buster Brown, 53
-
-Butterfly, Story of, 45
-
-
-Call of the Homeland, 71
-
-Calypso, 93
-
-Calthrop, Dion, 92
-
-Carlyle, T., 115
-
-Chap books, 51, 52
-
-Chesterton, G. K., on sentimentality, 46
-
-Child, the, 87
-
-Child Play, 104, 105
-
-Children's Catalogue, 211
-
-Choice of books, 61
-
-Christopher, St., legend of, 162-5
-
-Cid, the, 133
-
-Cinderella, 71, 90, 119, 120
-
-Classical Stories, 218, 223
-
-Class teaching, use of story-telling in, 132
-
-Clifford, Ethel, 88
-
-Clifford, Mrs. W. K., 40, 64
-
-Commonplace, to be avoided, 99
-
-Common sense of Education, 104
-
-Common sense, illustrated in stories, 71, 224
-
-Concealment of emotion by children, 114
-
-Confucius, 60
-
-Co-operation of audience, how to enlist, 37
-
-Cory, W., 107
-
-Coquelin, 27, 34
-
-Crazy Jane, 47
-
-Creative work, value of, 113
-
-Curious Girl, 51
-
-Curtin, Russian Myths, 90
-
-Cymbeline, 94
-
-
-Danger of side issues, 6
-
-Danger of altering the story for the occasion, 8
-
-Darning Needle, 125
-
-Death, stories dealing with, 86
-
-Death-bed scenes, 55
-
-Defence of Poesy, 5, 91, 110
-
-Detail, excess of, 21
-
-Dick Whittington, 100
-
-Didactic fiction, a low type of art, 4, 59
-
-Dido and Aeneas, 66
-
-Difficulties of the story, 6
-
-Dinkey Bird, the, 64
-
-Direct appeal, danger of, 111
-
-Divine Adventure, the, 81
-
-Dobson, Austin, 21
-
-Don Quixote, 21, 133
-
-Dramatic and poetic elements, 134
-
-Dramatic Excitement, 82
-
-Dramatic joy, 4, 93
-
-Dramatic presentation, of moral value, 59
-
----- indispensable, 89
-
-Dramatisation, danger of, 111
-
-Drudgery, essential for success, 29
-
-
-Educational uses of story telling, 4
-
-Effect of story, difficult to gauge, 14
-
----- how to obtain and maintain, 89
-
-Elements, desirable, 61
-
----- to be avoided, 42
-
-Eliot, George, 83
-
-Emotions, unable to find expression, 60
-
-Emphasis, danger of, 33
-
-Endings, dramatic, 40
-
-Enfant Prodigue, 18
-
-Environment, 95
-
-Essentials of the story, 25
-
-Ewing, Mrs., 50, 104, 106
-
-Examples for Youth, 56
-
-Experience, the appeal to, 62
-
-
-Fact and make-believe, 119
-
-Fairchild Family, 44
-
-Fairy tales, 58, 72, 73, 74, 75, 102, 104, 112
-
----- do not appeal to some, 121
-
----- mixed with science, to be avoided, 57
-
----- poor material of, 122
-
----- potential truth in, 121
-
----- right age for, 75
-
-Father and Son, 102
-
-Fear, appeals to, 51
-
-Fénélon's Telemachus, 92
-
-Festival Day, true spirit of, 200-3
-
-Fiction, should be used, 109
-
-Field, Eugene, 64, 69
-
-Filial Piety, 203-6
-
-Fleming, Marjorie, 53
-
-Folk lore, tampering with, 76
-
-Freeman, P., poems of, 55
-
-Froebel, 59
-
-Fun, coarse and exaggerated, 53
-
-
-Gales, R. L., 101
-
-Geography, dramatic possibilities of, 134
-
-Gesture, use and abuse of, 35, 126
-
-Glenconner, Lady, 187
-
-Glover, Mrs. Arnold, 96
-
-Golden Numbers, 71
-
-Goschen, G., 65, 99
-
-Gosse, E., 102
-
-Gregory, Lady, 24
-
-Grimm, 71
-
-Groos, Karl, 105
-
-Grotesque stories, an antidote to sentimentality, 78
-
-Gunnar, Death of, 133
-
-
-Hafiz the Stone-cutter, 170-2
-
-Harris, Muriel, 56
-
-Harrison, Frederic, 61
-
-Hearn, Lafcadio, 31
-
-Hector and Andromache, 66
-
-Helen and Paris, 8
-
-Heroes of Asgaard, 65
-
-History and fiction, 109, 225
-
-Honey Bee and other Stories, 57
-
-Human interest, 93
-
-Humour, development slow, 136
-
----- educational value of, 135
-
----- to encourage the sense of, 4, 73, 224
-
-Hushaby Lady, 69
-
-Hysteria, how encouraged, 60
-
-
-Ice Maiden, 80
-
-Ideal, translated into action, 4, 110
-
-Illustration of stories, 131
-
-Imagination, appeal by, 20
-
----- cultivation of, 4, 65, 103
-
----- Queyrat on, 118
-
----- Ribot on, 105
-
-Indian Stories, 81, 91, 218
-
-Infant piety, tales of, 55
-
-Irish peasants as an audience, 10
-
-
-Jack and the Beanstalk, 74, 121
-
-Jacob, More English tales, 72
-
-James, Henry, 27
-
-James, William, 84
-
-Janeway, Mrs., 51
-
-Jesper and the Hares, 72
-
-John and the Pig, 106
-
-
-Keatinge, on Suggestion, 34
-
-Kimmins, Dr., 130
-
-Kinematograph, dramatic value of, 18, 48
-
-King Peter, 92
-
-Kinship with animals, to be encouraged, 80
-
-Ker, Professor, 157
-
-Kipling, Rudyard, 38, 39, 40, 41, 123, 127
-
-
-Ladd's Psychology, 108
-
-Lang, Andrew, 72, 73, 85, 230
-
-Laocoon group, 55
-
-Lear's Book of Nonsense, 79
-
-Legends, Myths and Fairy tales, 219, 227
-
-Life, stories of saving, 86
-
-Little Citizens of other Lands, 103
-
-Little Cousin Series, 214
-
-Little Red Riding Hood, 76
-
-Lion and Hare, 126
-
-Loti, 114
-
-
-Magnanimity, to be encouraged, 107
-
-Mahomet, advice to teachers, 68
-
-McKracken, Mrs. E., 45
-
-Macleod, Fiona, 81
-
-Marsh King's Daughter, 62
-
-Mechanical devices for attracting attention, 32
-
-Memory or improvisation, 123
-
-Memory, the effect of, 63
-
-Mentius, Chinese philosopher, 95
-
-Metempsychosis, 81
-
-Milking time, 68
-
-Mill on the Floss, 83
-
-Milton, 69
-
-Mimicry, use of, 36
-
-Ministering Children, 44
-
-Miscellaneous Stories, 222, 228
-
-Modern Stories, List of, 233
-
-Montessori, on Silence, 131
-
-Moore Smith, C. G., 57
-
-Moral Instruction of Children, 81
-
-Moral tales, 55
-
-Morley, Henry, 58
-
-Morley, Lord, on direct moral teaching, 128
-
-Mother Play, 59
-
-Moulton, Professor, 67
-
-
-Napoleon, 85, 134
-
-Nebuchadnezzar's golden image, 67
-
-Necker de Saussure, Mme., 20
-
-Nightingale, the, 138-150
-
-Njal, Burning of, 85, 133
-
-Nonsense, a plea for, 79
-
-Norse Stories, 210
-
-Nursery Rhymes, 101
-
-
-Old people, as an audience, 24
-
-Openings, vivid, 39, 40
-
-Orpheus and Eurydice, 66
-
-Our Lady's Tumbler, 123
-
-Over dramatic stimulation, 48
-
-Over-elaboration, 21
-
-Over explanation, danger of, 23
-
-Over-illustration, danger of, 17
-
-
-Pandora, story of, 123
-
-Pantomime, stories in, 18
-
-Paris and Helen, 8
-
-Pausing, the art of, 33
-
-Piety Promoted, 57
-
-Planting for Eternity, 115
-
-Plato, on the End of Education, 91
-
-Poetic element, children's unexpressed need, 135
-
-Poetry and Life, 119
-
-Poetry, effect of, 119
-
-Poetry, value of, 69
-
-Polish, importance of, 31
-
-Poor Robin, 55
-
-Priggishness, how to avoid, 51
-
-Preparation for a story, 124
-
-Princess and the Pea, 34, 156-7
-
-Proud Cock, the, 178-180
-
-Psyche, 120
-
-Psychology, 108
-
-Psychological novelist, 108
-
-Pueblo tribe of Indians, 91
-
-Puss in Boots, 108
-
-
-Quebec and Téméraire, story of, 107
-
-Questions, danger of, 13
-
-Questions of teachers, 117
-
-Questioning the audience, futility of, 130
-
-Queyrat, 19, 23, 63, 106, 113, 118
-
-Quintilian, on the use of the hands, 35
-
-
-Reading matter for children, 211
-
-Realism, excessive, 49
-
-Repetition of story (by children) inadvisable, 130
-
-Repetition of stories (by lecturers) recommended, 30, 62
-
-Reproduction of stories, 112, 130
-
-Resourcefulness, stories of, 71, 224
-
-Ribot, on the imagination, 34, 105
-
-Riley, Whitcomb, 100
-
-Romance, Books of, 85, 221
-
-Romance, good for children, 66
-
----- in the streets, 97
-
-Rossetti, Christina, 68
-
-Russell, J., 161
-
-Russian myths and folk tales, 90
-
-
-Saga, a, 160, 161
-
-Saints, lives of, 225
-
-St. Christopher, Legend of, 162-5
-
-St. Francis and St. Clare, 66
-
-Santa Claus, 122
-
-Sarcasm, excess to be avoided, 44
-
-Satire, excessive, to be deprecated, 44
-
-Saturation, necessity of, 27
-
-Scott, Dr., 71
-
-Scudder, H., 111, 124
-
-Sensationalism, danger of, 47
-
-Sentimentality, 45
-
-Shakespeare, 69, 96
-
-Shepherd, the Obstinate, 172-8
-
-Sherwood, Mrs., 52
-
-Side issues, danger of, 6
-
-Sidney, Sir Philip, 85, 91, 110
-
-Siegfried and Brunhild, 66
-
-Silence, Montessori on, 131
-
-Simplicity, the keynote of story-telling, 2
-
-Smith, Mrs. R. B., 14
-
-Smith, N. A., 71
-
-Snake story, a, 195-200
-
-Snegourka, 180-2
-
-Snow Child, the, 180-2
-
-Somerset, Lady H., 110
-
-Song and Story, 70
-
-Song of Roland, 85
-
-Souvenirs du Peuple, 25
-
-Standard, must be high, 23
-
-Sterne, 44
-
-Stephens, James, 47
-
-Stevenson, R. L., 104, 105, 123
-
-Stories, in full, 138
-
----- to counteract influence of the streets, 93
-
----- outside children's experience, futility of, 48
-
-Story telling in school and home, 210
-
-Story Telling Magazine, 231
-
-Sturla, story of, 157-160
-
-Suggestion, 32, 34, 59
-
-Sully, on children, 30, 90
-
-Sunday books, 56
-
-Swineherd, the, 150-156
-
-Sympathy for foreigners, 103
-
-Syrett, N., 118
-
-
-Talking over a story, 129
-
-Talking Thrush, the, 200
-
-Talks to teachers, 85
-
-Teachers of Young Children, books for, 234
-
-Telemachus, 92
-
-Tell, Wilhelm, 30
-
-Tennant, Pamela, 187
-
-Thackeray, 135
-
-Thomas, W. Jenkyn, 169
-
-Three Bears, 121
-
-Through the Looking Glass, 90
-
-Tiger, Jackal and Brahman, 11
-
-Time, spent on story telling, 117
-
-Tin Soldier, the, 63, 64, 124, 129
-
-Top and Ball, 125
-
-To your good health, 172-8
-
-Treasure of the Wise Man, 100
-
-Troy, tale of, 8
-
-Truth, many-sided, 122
-
-Truth of Stories, 118
-
-Truth and Falsehood, how to distinguish, 106
-
-Two Frogs, the, 193-5
-
-
-Ulysses, 7, 93
-
-Unfamiliar words, danger of, 10
-
-United States, 31, 33, 49
-
-Unsuitable material for stories, 42
-
-Unusual element, desirable, 64
-
-Unwholesome Extravagance, 53
-
-Utilitarian stories, danger of, 99
-
-
-Very Short Stories, 64
-
-Virginibus Puerisque, 104
-
-Voice, dramatic power of, 17
-
-
-Wallas, K., 71
-
-Warlike Excitement, not essential, 87
-
-Water Nixie, the, 183-7
-
-Wide, Wide World, 44
-
-Wiggin, Kate Douglas, 48, 71
-
-Wise Old Shepherd, the, 195-200
-
-Wolf and Kids, 78
-
-
-Yonge, Miss, 54
-
-Youngest Child, success of, 226
-
-
-
-
-_Sherratt and Hughes, Printers, London and Manchester._
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-
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-distinction both as a schoolmaster and as a man of letters. It is not a
-scientific educational treatise, but an attempt to consider the life of
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-
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-Brother Ambrose saw nearing its end in the Jerusalem of his heart. The
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-
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-
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-
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-
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-
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- LL.D., Bishop of Oxford.
-
-Cultured and scholarly, and yet simple and luminous, eloquent in tone
-and graceful in diction, practical and stimulating, it is far and away
-the best exposition of the Sermon on the Mount that has yet appeared.
-
- =THE HOUSE OF QUIET. An Autobiography.= By A. C. BENSON.
-
-“The House of Quiet” is an autobiography, and something more--a series
-of very charming essays on people and life. The writer has placed
-himself in the chair of an invalid, an individual possessed of full
-mental vigour and free from bodily pain, but compelled by physical
-weakness to shirk the rough and tumble of a careless, unheeding,
-work-a-day world. He writes with a pen dipped in the milk of human
-kindness, and the result is a book to read time and again.
-
- =THE THREAD OF GOLD.= By A. C. BENSON.
-
-_The Guardian_ says:--“The style of the writing is equally simple and
-yet dignified; from beginning to end an ease of movement charms the
-reader. The book is abundantly suggestive.... The work is that of a
-scholar and a thinker, quick to catch a vagrant emotion, and should be
-read, as it was evidently written, in leisure and solitude. It covers a
-wide range--art, nature, country life, human character, poetry and the
-drama, morals and religion.”
-
- =THE PAINTERS OF FLORENCE. From the 13th to the 16th Centuries.= By
- JULIA CARTWRIGHT (Mrs. ADY). With Illustrations.
-
-Mrs. Ady is a competent and gifted writer on Italian painting, and
-presents in these 350 pages an excellent history of the splendid art
-and artists of Florence during the golden period from Cimabue and
-Giotto to Andrea del Sarto and Michelangelo.
-
- =A LADY'S LIFE IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.= By Mrs. BISHOP (ISABELLA L.
- BIRD). With Illustrations.
-
-_The Irish Times_ says:--“‘A Lady's Life in the Rocky Mountains’ needs
-no introduction to a public who have known and admired Mrs. Bishop
-(Isabella L. Bird) as a fearless traveller in the days when it was
-something of an achievement for a woman to undertake long and remote
-journeys.”
-
- =THE LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE.= By WILLIAM GARDEN BLAIKIE. With
- Portrait.
-
-This is the standard biography of the great missionary who will for
-ever stand pre-eminent among African travellers.
-
- =DEEDS OF NAVAL DARING; or, Anecdotes of the British Navy.= By
- EDWARD GIFFARD.
-
-This work contains ninety-three anecdotes, told in everyday language,
-of such traits of courage and feats of individual daring as may best
-serve to illustrate the generally received idea of the British sailor's
-character for “courage verging on temerity.”
-
- =SINAI AND PALESTINE in connection with their History.= By the late
- DEAN STANLEY. With Maps.
-
-“There is no need, at this time of day, to praise the late Dean
-Stanley's fascinating story of his travels in Palestine. It is enough
-to say that here Mr. Murray has given us, for the sum of one shilling
-net, a delightful reprint of that charming book, with maps and plans
-and the author's original advertisement and prefaces. We would
-especially commend this cheap storehouse of history, tradition, and
-observation to Bible students.”--_Dundee Courier._
-
- =THE NATURALIST ON THE RIVER AMAZONS.= A Record of Adventures,
- Habits of Animals, Sketches of Brazilian and Indian Life, and
- Aspects of Nature under the Equator, during Eleven Years
- of Travel. By H. W. BATES, F.R.S. Numerous Illustrations.
-
-A most readable record of adventures, sketches of Brazilian and Indian
-life, habits of animals, and aspects of nature under the Equator during
-eleven years of travel.
-
- * * * * *
-
-WORKS OF SAMUEL SMILES.
-
-Few books in the whole history of literature have had such wide
-popularity or such healthy and stimulating effect as the works of
-Samuel Smiles during the last half-century. How great men have attained
-to greatness and successful men achieved success is the subject of
-these enthralling volumes, which are now brought within the reach of
-all.
-
- =SELF-HELP. With Illustrations of Conduct and Perseverance.= With
- Portrait.
-
- =LIFE AND LABOUR; or, Characteristics of Men of Industry, Culture,
- and Genius.=
-
- =CHARACTER. A Book of Noble Characteristics.= With Frontispiece.
-
- =JAMES NASMYTH, Engineer and Inventor of the Steam Hammer.= An
- Autobiography. Portrait and Illustrations.
-
-
-
-
-Transcriber's Note:
-
-Variable spelling and hyphenation have been retained. Minor punctuation
-inconsistencies have been silently repaired.
-
-Corrections.
-
-The first line indicates the original, the second the correction.
-
-p. 72:
-
- is “What the Old Man does is alway Right.”
- is “What the Old Man does is always Right.”
-
-p. 91:
-
- I remember the surprise which which, when I had grown somewhat older
- I remember the surprise which, when I had grown somewhat older
-
-p. 126:
-
- and practice will make make you more and more critical
- and practice will make you more and more critical
-
-p. 234:
-
- (From The Girl from the Marsh Croft. Selma Lagelöf. 12581. p. 99.)
- (From The Girl from the Marsh Croft. Selma Lagerlöf. 12581. p. 99.)
-
-
-
-
-
-
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