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Friday, August 27, 2021

Rhys - Robin Goodfellow - Keeping the Public in Public Domain

Puck (1789) by Joshua Reynolds
Today's story goes back in English folklore to Old English about a character known as Puck or by one of his other names as Robin Goodfellow in our story's title.  There are other name variations as well.  Hob for the shortened Rob or Robert, and also Hobgoblin.  Wikipedia traces the earliest written reference in the Oxford English Dictionary back to 1531.  I first heard about him in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream when Puck is introduced and also called Robin Goodfellow.  At the time I had no idea this mischievous spirit was something an audience in the late 16th and early 17th century would know by both names quite well.

Interest and knowledge of this prankster continued into the next century with the painting by the great English painter, Joshua Reynolds, needing no explanation for its title.  

Even the word "puckish" may be unfamiliar to many today.  Looking up the word's meaning using various dictionaries gives a fine introduction to the character: impish, whimsical, cheeky, devilish, mischievous, teasing, naughty, sly, playful, whimsical, roguish, frolicsome, waggish, sportive, but most often impish.  We are told somebody who is puckish plays tricks on people, is up to a little trouble, and might play practical jokes on you, but they're more silly than mean spirited.  

The Welsh-English writer, Ernest Rhys, calls Robin Goodfellow a "Knave" and at times calls his actions "knavish."  That's so thoroughly British that I always wondered if a knave was a title somebody had at a royal court, rather like the nursery rhyme:

The Queen of Hearts
She made some tarts,
    All on a summer's day;
The Knave of Hearts
He stole those tarts,
    And took them clean away.

The poem goes on to have the King of Hearts beat the Knave who then promises to steal no more.

The knavish Robin Goodfellow may deserve a good beating, but we'll have to catch the story to see what happens.  I might give all I've said so far or a briefer version of it to talk about "knave", "knavish", "Puck" and "puckish", all good bits for vocabulary.  I'd also explain the story has a "red-faced clown", but it isn't a circus clown, merely a rather dim-witted man Robin meets.

With that explanation, I'd tell the story, but adapt it for modern listeners.  Rhys has the story in Fairy Gold; A Book of Classic English Fairy Tales.  It's not easily found online, but if you go to Project Gutenberg you can read it in Ada and Eleanor Skinner's The Turquoise Story Book: Stories and Legend of Summer and NatureI am not going to give the original here, but instead my slightly modernized version omitting the "thees" and "thous" and other things not helpful for many of today's listeners.  I will, however, include the drawing by Herbert Cole which opened the story in Fairy Gold as it shows Robin, the "red-faced clown", and a certain horse.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW

Once upon a time, a great while ago, when men did eat and drink less, and were more honest, and knew no knavery, there used to be many harmless sprites called fairies, dancing in fairy rings on green hills with sweet music. Sometimes they were invisible, and sometimes took various shapes. Many mad pranks they would play, such as pinching untidy girls black and blue, and misplacing things in disorderly houses; but lovingly would they treat good girls, giving them silver and other pretty toys, which they would leave for them, sometimes in their shoes, other times in their pockets, sometimes in bright basins and other clean containers.

Now it happened that in those happy days, a baby was born in a house which the fairies liked. This baby was a boy, and the fairies, to show their pleasure, brought many pretty things, coverlets and delicate linen for his cradle; and woodcock and quail for the christening, at which there was so much good cheer that the clerk almost forgot to say the baby's name—Robin Goodfellow.  So much for the birth and christening of little Robin.

When Robin was grown to six years of age, he was so knavish that all the neighbors complained about him; for, no sooner was his mother's back turned, he was in one knavish action or other, so that his mother was forced (to avoid the complaints) to take him with her to market or wherever she went or rode on horseback. But this helped little or nothing, for, if he rode before her, then he would make awful faces at all he met: if he rode behind her, then he would clap his hand on the horse's tail; so that his mother was weary of the many complaints that came about him. Yet she didn't know how to beat him properly for it, because she never saw him do anything deserving blows. The complaints came daily, so his mother promised him a whipping. Robin didn't like that, and to avoid it, he ran away, and left his mother crying for him.

After Robin had traveled a good day's journey from his mother's house he sat down, and, being tired, he fell asleep. No sooner had sleep closed his eye-lids, but he thought he saw many little people dancing about him, and he heard such music Orpheus, a famous Greek fiddler (had he still been alive), compared to one of these would have been a poor musician. As delights usually don't last long, so  these ended sooner than Robin wanted.  Sadly he awoke, and found lying by him a scroll.  On it was written in golden letters:—

"Robin, my only son and heir,

How to live take you no care:

By nature you have cunning shifts,

Which I'll increase with other gifts.

You have the power to change your shape,

To horse, to hog, to dog, to ape,

Transformed thus, by any means

See none you harm but knaves and queens:

But love you those that honest be,

And help them in necessity.

Do this and all the world shall know

The pranks of Robin Goodfellow,

For by that name you called shall be

To age's last posterity;

And if you keep my just command,

One day you shall see Fairy-land!"

Robin, having read this, was very joyful, yet he longed to know whether he had the power or not, and to try it he wished for some meat.  Immediately a fine dish of roast veal was before him. Then he wished for plum-pudding; right away he had it. This he liked well, and, because he was weary, he wished he was a horse: no sooner was his wish ended, but he was changed into as fine a horse as you could see, and leaped as nimbly as if he had been one at least a month. Then he wished himself a black dog, and he was so; then a green tree, and he was so. So from one thing to another, till he was quite sure that he could change himself to anything he liked.

Full of delight at his new powers, Robin Goodfellow set out, eager to put them to the test.

As he was crossing a field, he met a red-faced clown and called him to stop.

"Friend," said he, "what is a clock?"

"A thing," answered the clown, "that shows the time of the day."

"Why, then," said Robin Goodfellow, "be you a clock and tell me what time of the day it is."

"I owe you no service," answered the clown again, "but, because you shall think yourself owing me, know that it is the same time of the day as it was yesterday at this time!"

These shrewd answers upset Robin Goodfellow, so he promised revenge on the clown, which he did in this manner.

Robin Goodfellow turned himself into a bird and followed this fellow, who was going into a field a little way away from that place to catch a horse eating grass. The horse, being wild, jumped over the hedge, and the fellow followed after it, but the horse was too swift for him. Robin was glad, for now was the perfect time to have his revenge.

Robin shaped himself exactly like the horse that the clown followed, and so stood right before him. Then the clown took hold of the horse's mane and got on his back, but he had not ridden far when, with a stumble, Robin hurled his rider over his head, so that the rider almost broke his neck. But then again the horse stood still and let the clown mount him once more.

The clown now started to ride through a pond of water of good-sized depth, which covered the road. No sooner did he ride into the very middle of the pond than Robin Goodfellow turned himself into a fish, and so left him with nothing but the saddle on which he was riding between his legs. Meanwhile the fish swiftly swam to the bank. And then Robin, changed to a naughty boy again, ran away laughing, "Ho, ho, hoh!" leaving the poor clown half drowned and covered with mud.

As Robin went along a green hedge-side he started singing:—

"And can the doctor make sick men well?

And can the gypsy a fortune tell

Without lily, germander, and cockle-shell?

With sweet-brier,

And bon-fire

And strawberry wine,

And columbine."

And when he had sung this, he wondered what he should next turn himself into. Then, as he saw the smoke rise from the chimneys of the next town, he thought to himself it would be great sport to walk the streets with a broom on his shoulder, and cry:

"Chimney sweep."

But when Robin did this, and someone called him, then Robin ran away laughing, "Ho, ho, hoh!"

Next he set about to imitate a beggar on crutches, begging very pitifully; but when a stout shop keeper came out of his shop to give Robin money, again he skipped off nimbly, laughing in his naughty manner.

That same night, he knocked at many men's doors, and when in the dark the servants came out, he blew out their candle and vanished in the dark street, with his "Ho, ho, hoh!"

All these tricks Robin played, day and night.  He had many songs, one of which he sang in his chimney-sweeper's disguise:

"Black I am from head to foot,

And all does come from chimney soot.

Then, maidens, come and cherish him

That makes your chimneys neat and trim."

But it happened that, on the very next night of his playing the chimney-sweep, Robin had a summons from the land where there are no chimneys. For King Oberon, seeing Robin Goodfellow do so many merry tricks, called him out of his bed with these words, saying:—

"Robin, my son, come; quickly rise:

First stretch, then yawn, and rub your eyes;

For you must go with me tonight,

And taste of Fairy-land's delight."

Robin, hearing this, rose and went to him. There were with King Oberon many fairies, all dressed in green. All these, with King Oberon, did welcome Robin Goodfellow into their company. Oberon took Robin by the hand and led him in a fairy dance: their musician had an excellent bag-pipe made of a wren's quill and the skin of a Greenland fly. This pipe was so shrill and so sweet that a Scottish pipe, compared to it, would no more come near it than a Jaw's-harp does to an Irish harp. After they had danced, King Oberon said to Robin:—

"Whene'er you hear the piper blow,

Round and round the fairies go!

And nightly you must with us dance,

In meadows where the moonbeams glance,

And make the circle, hand in hand—

That is the law of Fairy-land!

There you shall see what no man knows;

While sleep the eyes of men does close!"

So marched they, with their piper in front, to the Fairy-land. There King Oberon showed Robin Goodfellow many secrets, which he never showed the rest of the world. And there, in Fairy-land, does Robin Goodfellow live now these many long years.

***

I confess I'm currently in a Shakespearian mood after seeing an outdoor performance of MacBeth recently.  Shakespeare's such fun, especially outdoors, and this has me wishing I could catch again a performance of A Midsummer Night's DreamTaking out the nearly Shakespearian sound of the story, as Rhys wrote it, especially leaves me sighing for the Bard.  Maybe next summer.

In the meantime I hope you enjoyed this medieval "Dennis the Menace" who became a member of Oberon's court.  (Yes, Oberon is a part of A Midsummer Night's Dream, too.)

****************

This is part of a series of postings of stories under the category, "Keeping the Public in Public Domain."  The idea behind Public Domain was to preserve our cultural heritage after the authors and their immediate heirs were compensated.  I feel strongly current copyright law delays this intent on works of the 20th century.  My own library of folklore includes so many books within the Public Domain I decided to share stories from them.  I hope you enjoy discovering new stories.  



At the same time, my own involvement in storytelling regularly creates projects requiring research as part of my sharing stories with an audience.  Whenever that research needs to be shown here, the publishing of Public Domain stories will not occur that week.  This is a return to my regular posting of a research project here.  (Don't worry, this isn't dry research, my research is always geared towards future storytelling to an audience.)  Response has convinced me that "Keeping the Public in Public Domain" should continue along with my other postings as often as I can manage it.
Other Public Domain story resources I recommend-
  • There are many online resources for Public Domain stories, maybe none for folklore is as ambitious as fellow storyteller, Yoel Perez's database, Yashpeh, the International Folktales Collection.  I have long recommended it and continue to do so.  He has loaded Stith Thompson's Motif Index into his server as a database so you can search the whole 6 volumes for whatever word or expression you like by pressing one key. http://folkmasa.org/motiv/motif.htm
  • You may have noticed I'm no longer certain Dr. Perez has the largest database, although his offering the Motif Index certainly qualifies for those of us seeking specific types of stories.  There's another site, FairyTalez claiming to be the largest, with "over 2000 fairy tales, folktales, and fables" and they are "fully optimized for phones, tablets, and PCs", free and presented without ads.

    Between those two sites, there is much for story-lovers, but as they say in infomercials, "Wait, there's more!"
The email list for storytellers, Storytell, discussed Online Story Sources and came up with these additional suggestions:            
         - David K. Brown - http://people.ucalgary.ca/~dkbrown/stories.html
         - Richard Martin - http://www.tellatale.eu/tales_page.html
         - Spirit of Trees - http://spiritoftrees.org/featured-folktales
         - Story-Lovers - http://www.story-lovers.com/ is now only accessible through the Wayback Machine, described below, but the late Jackie Baldwin's wonderful site lives on there, fully searchable manually (the Google search doesn't work), at https://archive.org/ .  It's not easy, but go to Story-lovers.com snapshot for October 22 2016  and you can click on SOS: Searching Out Stories to scroll down through the many story topics and click on the story topic that interests you.
       - World of Tales - http://www.worldoftales.com/ 
           - Zalka Csenge Virag - http://multicoloreddiary.blogspot.com doesn't give the actual stories, but her recommendations, working her way through each country on a continent, give excellent ideas for finding new books and stories to love and tell.
     
You're going to find many of the links on these sites have gone down, BUT go to the Internet Archive Wayback Machine to find some of these old links.  Tim's site, for example, is so huge probably updating it would be a full-time job.  In the case of Story-Lovers, it's great that Jackie Baldwin set it up to stay online as long as it did after she could no longer maintain it.  Possibly searches maintained it.  Unfortunately Storytell list member, Papa Joe is on both Tim Sheppard's site and Story-Lovers, but he no longer maintains his old Papa Joe's Traveling Storytelling Show website and his Library (something you want to see!) is now only on the Wayback Machine.  It took some patience working back through claims of snapshots but finally in December of 2006 it appears!
    Somebody as of this writing whose stories can still be found by his website is the late Chuck Larkin - http://chucklarkin.com/stories.html.  I prefer to list these sites by their complete address so they can be found by the Wayback Machine, a.k.a. Archive.org, when that becomes the only way to find them.
You can see why I recommend these to you. Have fun discovering even more stories!

 

Friday, August 20, 2021

Aesop - Three Tradesmen - Keeping the Public in Public Domain

 

from imgflip.com

The meme gives a bit of a warning as does the source of today's very short story. 
This isn't the best known of Aesop's fables and I'm going to put it together from three sources.  This story needs an introduction found in Aesop's Fables with Illustrations by John Tenniel.  (He didn't illustrate this fable.)

The Three Tradesmen

There was a city in expectation of being besieged, and a council was called accordingly to discuss the best means of fortifying it.

(The rest of the story:)

The citizens of a certain city were debating about the best material to use in the fortifications which were about to be erected for the greater security of the town. A Carpenter got up and advised the use of wood, which he said was readily procurable and easily worked. A Stone-mason objected to wood on the ground that it was so inflammable, and recommended stones instead. Then a Tanner got on his legs and said, "In my opinion there's nothing like leather."

Every man for himself.

****

That was from the 1912 volume and again a famous illustrator (Arthur Rackham) didn't illustrate it, letting you picture it in your mind. 

The text by V. S. Vernon Jones includes his idea of the moral.  Aesop's Fables with Drawings by Fritz Kredel is still under copyright, but I prefer his moral and believe just stating that little bit is Fair Use.

Application: It is difficult to see beyond one's own nose.

****

So what am I combining three versions of the great teacher, Aesop, to say on my soapbox?

Covid has been ridiculously politicized and it has become a case of "Every man for himself."  It would be all fine if we weren't dealing with both a highly contagious situation and helpless children unable to be vaccinated and dependent upon the safety and responsibility of adults around them.

Whether masked or unmasked (pull it over your nose, PLEASE!) consider how you may be sickening or even killing children.  I repeat: Application: It is difficult to see beyond one's own nose.

I'll step off my soapbox now, but please, if you go to hug me, first warn me if you're unvaccinated.

*****************


This is part of a series of postings of stories under the category, "Keeping the Public in Public Domain."  The idea behind Public Domain was to preserve our cultural heritage after the authors and their immediate heirs were compensated.  I feel strongly current copyright law delays this intent on works of the 20th century.  My own library of folklore includes so many books within the Public Domain I decided to share stories from them.  I hope you enjoy discovering new stories.  



At the same time, my own involvement in storytelling regularly creates projects requiring research as part of my sharing stories with an audience.  Whenever that research needs to be shown here, the publishing of Public Domain stories will not occur that week.  This is a return to my regular posting of a research project here.  (Don't worry, this isn't dry research, my research is always geared towards future storytelling to an audience.)  Response has convinced me that "Keeping the Public in Public Domain" should continue along with my other postings as often as I can manage it.
Other Public Domain story resources I recommend-
  • There are many online resources for Public Domain stories, maybe none for folklore is as ambitious as fellow storyteller, Yoel Perez's database, Yashpeh, the International Folktales Collection.  I have long recommended it and continue to do so.  He has loaded Stith Thompson's Motif Index into his server as a database so you can search the whole 6 volumes for whatever word or expression you like by pressing one key. http://folkmasa.org/motiv/motif.htm
  • You may have noticed I'm no longer certain Dr. Perez has the largest database, although his offering the Motif Index certainly qualifies for those of us seeking specific types of stories.  There's another site, FairyTalez claiming to be the largest, with "over 2000 fairy tales, folktales, and fables" and they are "fully optimized for phones, tablets, and PCs", free and presented without ads.

    Between those two sites, there is much for story-lovers, but as they say in infomercials, "Wait, there's more!"
The email list for storytellers, Storytell, discussed Online Story Sources and came up with these additional suggestions:            
         - David K. Brown - http://people.ucalgary.ca/~dkbrown/stories.html
         - Richard Martin - http://www.tellatale.eu/tales_page.html
         - Spirit of Trees - http://spiritoftrees.org/featured-folktales
         - Story-Lovers - http://www.story-lovers.com/ is now only accessible through the Wayback Machine, described below, but the late Jackie Baldwin's wonderful site lives on there, fully searchable manually (the Google search doesn't work), at https://archive.org/ .  It's not easy, but go to Story-lovers.com snapshot for October 22 2016  and you can click on SOS: Searching Out Stories to scroll down through the many story topics and click on the story topic that interests you.
       - World of Tales - http://www.worldoftales.com/ 
           - Zalka Csenge Virag - http://multicoloreddiary.blogspot.com doesn't give the actual stories, but her recommendations, working her way through each country on a continent, give excellent ideas for finding new books and stories to love and tell.
     
You're going to find many of the links on these sites have gone down, BUT go to the Internet Archive Wayback Machine to find some of these old links.  Tim's site, for example, is so huge probably updating it would be a full-time job.  In the case of Story-Lovers, it's great that Jackie Baldwin set it up to stay online as long as it did after she could no longer maintain it.  Possibly searches maintained it.  Unfortunately Storytell list member, Papa Joe is on both Tim Sheppard's site and Story-Lovers, but he no longer maintains his old Papa Joe's Traveling Storytelling Show website and his Library (something you want to see!) is now only on the Wayback Machine.  It took some patience working back through claims of snapshots but finally in December of 2006 it appears!
    Somebody as of this writing whose stories can still be found by his website is the late Chuck Larkin - http://chucklarkin.com/stories.html.  I prefer to list these sites by their complete address so they can be found by the Wayback Machine, a.k.a. Archive.org, when that becomes the only way to find them.
You can see why I recommend these to you. Have fun discovering even more stories!

Friday, August 13, 2021

Field - The Oak Tree and the Ivy - Keeping the Public in Public Domain

How often do we learn to value something only after it leaves our life!  I'm aware this applies to both trees (which continue to be affected by storms) and to my own personal roots in Saint Louis.  If that seems like a strange combination...storytellers may make unusual combinations when it comes to finding stories.

I confess I rarely use poetry in my storytelling.  Perhaps if I were so inclined I'd use Joyce Kilmer's poem, "Trees."  Nope, not my style.  (Although the parody by Ogden Nash in that Wikipedia article is definitely more my style!)  As a result I guess it's not surprising that while growing up in Saint Louis (Missouri, not Saint Louis, Michigan) I never felt the urge to visit the Field House.

Field House Museum with the new expansion, 2017, by Efhmuseum

The Field House Museum struck me as a 19th century house of someone who didn't interest me beyond his poems of "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod" and "The Duel" (which is perhaps better known as "The Gingham Dog and the Calico Cat").  While I liked and acknowledged his St. Louis connections, I was even less interested in his sentimental "Little Boy Blue".  Fortunately I eventually discovered he had much more that might interest me.  The Wikipedia article on Eugene Field gives a hint of his personality, talking of his college pranks.  The Eugene Field Book: Verses, Stories, and Letters, however, contains "Ä Chapter of Autobiography" revealing his nature in ways interesting me way more than the "Just the facts"style of Wikipedia.  The expansion to the museum wasn't available when I was living in St. Louis.  It's style at first had me believe it was a library branch.  That architecture fits its contents including his collection of dolls and toys, a library, and also about his father.  O.k. my awareness of the Dred Scott decision also grew after I moved away and began to tell about abolition and the Underground Railroad.  Eugene's father, Roswell Field, represented Dred Scott.  

Prowling books I owned by him feels oh so appropriate as the sound of chainsaws continue to cope with area tree damage.  The following story from A Little Book of Profitable Tales will stay with me as I see some trees continuing after damage.  The story is definitely "literary" and I'd re-tell it, then suggest the audience look up the original to allow Field's story to speak in his own voice.

THE OAK-TREE AND THE IVY.

In the greenwood stood a mighty oak. So majestic was he that all who came that way paused to admire his strength and beauty, and all the other trees of the greenwood acknowledged him to be their monarch.

Now it came to pass that the ivy loved the oak-tree, and inclining her graceful tendrils where he stood, she crept about his feet and twined herself around his sturdy and knotted trunk. And the oak-tree pitied the ivy.

"Oho!" he cried, laughing boisterously, but good-naturedly,—"oho! so you love me, do you, little vine? Very well, then; play about my feet, and I will keep the storms from you and will tell you pretty stories about the clouds, the birds, and the stars."

The ivy marvelled greatly at the strange stories the oak-tree told; they were stories the oak-tree heard from the wind that loitered about his lofty head and whispered to the leaves of his topmost branches. Sometimes the story was about the great ocean in the East, sometimes of the broad prairies in the West, sometimes of the ice-king who lived in the North, and sometimes of the flower-queen who dwelt in the South. Then, too, the moon told a story to the oak-tree every night,—or at least every night that she came to the greenwood, which was very often, for the greenwood is a very charming spot, as we all know. And the oak-tree repeated to the ivy every story the moon told and every song the stars sang.

"Pray, what are the winds saying now?" or "What song is that I hear?" the ivy would ask; and then the oak-tree would repeat the story or the song, and the ivy would listen in great wonderment.

Whenever the storms came, the oak-tree cried to the little ivy: "Cling close to me, and no harm shall befall you! See how strong I am; the tempest does not so much as stir me—I mock its fury!"

Then, seeing how strong and brave he was, the ivy hugged him closely; his brown, rugged breast protected her from every harm, and she was secure.

The years went by; how quickly they flew,—spring, summer, winter, and then again spring, summer, winter,—ah, life is short in the greenwood as elsewhere! And now the ivy was no longer a weakly little vine to excite the pity of the passer-by. Her thousand beautiful arms had twined hither and thither about the oak-tree, covering his brown and knotted trunk, shooting forth a bright, delicious foliage and stretching far up among his lower branches. Then the oak-tree's pity grew into a love for the ivy, and the ivy was filled with a great joy. And the oak-tree and the ivy were wed one June night, and there was a wonderful celebration in the greenwood; and there was the most beautiful music, in which the pine-trees, the crickets, the katydids, the frogs, and the nightingales joined with pleasing harmony.

The oak-tree was always good and gentle to the ivy. "There is a storm coming over the hills," he would say. "The east wind tells me so; the swallows fly low in the air, and the sky is dark. Cling close to me, my beloved, and no harm shall befall you."

Then, confidently and with an always-growing love, the ivy would cling more closely to the oak-tree, and no harm came to her.

"How good the oak-tree is to the ivy!" said the other trees of the greenwood. The ivy heard them, and she loved the oak-tree more and more. And, although the ivy was now the most umbrageous and luxuriant vine in all the greenwood, the oak-tree regarded her still as the tender little thing he had laughingly called to his feet that spring day, many years before,—the same little ivy he had told about the stars, the clouds, and the birds. And, just as patiently as in those days he had told her of these things, he now repeated other tales the winds whispered to his topmost boughs,—tales of the ocean in the East, the prairies in the West, the ice-king in the North, and the flower-queen in the South. Nestling upon his brave breast and in his stout arms, the ivy heard him tell these wondrous things, and she never wearied with the listening.

"How the oak-tree loves her!" said the ash. "The lazy vine has naught to do but to twine herself about the arrogant oak-tree and hear him tell his wondrous stories!"

The ivy heard these envious words, and they made her very sad; but she said nothing of them to the oak-tree, and that night the oak-tree rocked her to sleep as he repeated the lullaby a zephyr was singing to him.

"There is a storm coming over the hills," said the oak-tree one day. "The east wind tells me so; the swallows fly low in the air, and the sky is dark. Clasp me round about with thy dear arms, my beloved, and nestle close unto my bosom, and no harm shall befall thee."

"I have no fear," murmured the ivy; and she clasped her arms most closely about him and nestled unto his bosom.

The storm came over the hills and swept down upon the greenwood with deafening thunder and vivid lightning. The storm-king himself rode upon the blast; his horses breathed flames, and his chariot trailed through the air like a serpent of fire. The ash fell before the violence of the storm-king's fury, and the cedars groaning fell, and the hemlocks and the pines; but the oak-tree alone quailed not.

"Oho!" cried the storm-king, angrily, "the oak-tree does not bow to me, he does not tremble in my presence. Well, we shall see."

With that, the storm-king hurled a mighty thunderbolt at the oak-tree, and the brave, strong monarch of the greenwood was riven. Then, with a shout of triumph, the storm-king rode away.

"Dear oak-tree, you are riven by the storm-king's thunderbolt!" cried the ivy, in anguish.

"Ay," said the oak-tree, feebly, "my end has come; see, I am shattered and helpless."

"But I am unhurt," remonstrated the ivy, "and I will bind up your wounds and nurse you back to health and vigor."

And so it was that, although the oak-tree was ever afterward a riven and broken thing, the ivy concealed the scars upon his shattered form and covered his wounds all over with her soft foliage.

"I had hoped, dear one," she said, "to grow up to thy height, to live with thee among the clouds, and to hear the solemn voices thou didst hear. Thou wouldst have loved me better then?"

But the old oak-tree said: "Nay, nay, my beloved; I love thee better as thou art, for with thy beauty and thy love thou comfortest mine age."

Then would the ivy tell quaint stories to the old and broken oak-tree,—stories she had learned from the crickets, the bees, the butterflies, and the mice when she was an humble little vine and played at the foot of the majestic oak-tree, towering in the greenwood with no thought of the tiny shoot that crept toward him with her love. And these simple tales pleased the old and riven oak-tree; they were not as heroic as the tales the winds, the clouds, and the stars told, but they were far sweeter, for they were tales of contentment, of humility, of love.

So the old age of the oak-tree was grander than his youth.

And all who went through the greenwood paused to behold and admire the beauty of the oak-tree then; for about his seared and broken trunk the gentle vine had so entwined her graceful tendrils and spread her fair foliage, that one saw not the havoc of the years nor the ruin of the tempest, but only the glory of the oak-tree's age, which was the ivy's love and ministering.

********


All right it's definitely anthropomorphic and the "thees and thous" come from back in 1886, but recent scientific research may support the theory of communication by trees and plants.  Even if that theory is yet to be proven, it's certainly memorable while walking among the trees. 

In addition to all the weather attacking trees right now (not even mentioning the wildfires), I have started to see a bit of leaf color changing.  At first I thought it was stress, but it's definitely beginning on trees and vines that normally are the first to change.  If you want to learn a related story, go back to the Iroquois story from last year,  "Why leaves turn red and yellow.html."  Oaks are some of the last to change, so maybe the little vine of Field's story also adds a bit of color to her love.

  


While looking further into Eugene Field, I found he has memorials in many places where he lived, possibly near you?  Something else that didn't exist when I lived there is the St. Louis Walk of Fame.  I grew up in that very neighborhood, but this addition started in 1989 and has been designated “One of the 10 Great Streets in America” by the American Planning Association.  I knew some, but certainly not all, of the famous people with St. Louis connections.  A virtual way to see it lets you click on the inductees' photos to learn a bit about each.  As for "Just the facts", the Wikipedia article tells more about the St. Louis Walk of Fame history than the actual Walk of Fame website listed earlier.        

I certainly don't expect ever to have a star there, but I do have memories and friends still back in St. Louis.  It's wonderful that the internet and Public Domain lets me add Eugene and his father, Roswell, to my love of my hometown even after I've settled here in the "pleasant peninsula"of Michigan.


*****************

This is part of a series of postings of stories under the category, "Keeping the Public in Public Domain."  The idea behind Public Domain was to preserve our cultural heritage after the authors and their immediate heirs were compensated.  I feel strongly current copyright law delays this intent on works of the 20th century.  My own library of folklore includes so many books within the Public Domain I decided to share stories from them.  I hope you enjoy discovering new stories.  



At the same time, my own involvement in storytelling regularly creates projects requiring research as part of my sharing stories with an audience.  Whenever that research needs to be shown here, the publishing of Public Domain stories will not occur that week.  This is a return to my regular posting of a research project here.  (Don't worry, this isn't dry research, my research is always geared towards future storytelling to an audience.)  Response has convinced me that "Keeping the Public in Public Domain" should continue along with my other postings as often as I can manage it.
Other Public Domain story resources I recommend-
  • There are many online resources for Public Domain stories, maybe none for folklore is as ambitious as fellow storyteller, Yoel Perez's database, Yashpeh, the International Folktales Collection.  I have long recommended it and continue to do so.  He has loaded Stith Thompson's Motif Index into his server as a database so you can search the whole 6 volumes for whatever word or expression you like by pressing one key. http://folkmasa.org/motiv/motif.htm
  • You may have noticed I'm no longer certain Dr. Perez has the largest database, although his offering the Motif Index certainly qualifies for those of us seeking specific types of stories.  There's another site, FairyTalez claiming to be the largest, with "over 2000 fairy tales, folktales, and fables" and they are "fully optimized for phones, tablets, and PCs", free and presented without ads.

    Between those two sites, there is much for story-lovers, but as they say in infomercials, "Wait, there's more!"
The email list for storytellers, Storytell, discussed Online Story Sources and came up with these additional suggestions:            
         - David K. Brown - http://people.ucalgary.ca/~dkbrown/stories.html
         - Richard Martin - http://www.tellatale.eu/tales_page.html
         - Spirit of Trees - http://spiritoftrees.org/featured-folktales
         - Story-Lovers - http://www.story-lovers.com/ is now only accessible through the Wayback Machine, described below, but the late Jackie Baldwin's wonderful site lives on there, fully searchable manually (the Google search doesn't work), at https://archive.org/ .  It's not easy, but go to Story-lovers.com snapshot for October 22 2016  and you can click on SOS: Searching Out Stories to scroll down through the many story topics and click on the story topic that interests you.
       - World of Tales - http://www.worldoftales.com/ 
           - Zalka Csenge Virag - http://multicoloreddiary.blogspot.com doesn't give the actual stories, but her recommendations, working her way through each country on a continent, give excellent ideas for finding new books and stories to love and tell.
     
You're going to find many of the links on these sites have gone down, BUT go to the Internet Archive Wayback Machine to find some of these old links.  Tim's site, for example, is so huge probably updating it would be a full-time job.  In the case of Story-Lovers, it's great that Jackie Baldwin set it up to stay online as long as it did after she could no longer maintain it.  Possibly searches maintained it.  Unfortunately Storytell list member, Papa Joe is on both Tim Sheppard's site and Story-Lovers, but he no longer maintains his old Papa Joe's Traveling Storytelling Show website and his Library (something you want to see!) is now only on the Wayback Machine.  It took some patience working back through claims of snapshots but finally in December of 2006 it appears!
    Somebody as of this writing whose stories can still be found by his website is the late Chuck Larkin - http://chucklarkin.com/stories.html.  I prefer to list these sites by their complete address so they can be found by the Wayback Machine, a.k.a. Archive.org, when that becomes the only way to find them.
You can see why I recommend these to you. Have fun discovering even more stories!

Friday, August 6, 2021

Gatty - The Butterfly - Keeping the Public in Public Domain

Even as the nearby state park remains closed due to tree damage from last week's storm, I was delighted to receive this hopeful nature-related email this week -- I've a butterfly story and resource following it : 

We have exciting news! Bayer, the manufacturer of the pesticide Roundup, has announced that it will be removing glyphosate, the pesticide's main active ingredient, from all its lawn and garden products as early as 2023.1

Thank you

This announcement is a much-needed victory for our monarchs.

The widespread application of glyphosate has decimated the milkweed plant -- the only plant monarch caterpillars will eat. The loss of this crucial food source has contributed to an 80 percent decline in eastern monarch populations and a shocking 99 percent decline of western monarchs.2,3,4

Glyphosate harms more than monarchs, too. A study demonstrated that glyphosate poses a threat to 93 percent of all endangered species, and the World Health Organization's International Agency for Research on Cancer has labeled the chemical "probably carcinogenic to humans."5,6

Bayer's announcement represents an important first step toward protecting human health and our pollinators -- and it would not have been possible without supporters like you. You've stood with us as we've organized for years to ban glyphosate. In the last year alone, you've sent more than 30,000 messages to the Environmental Protection Agency and your state legislators calling for a ban on this harmful pesticide.

Your dedication has led to real change that can help turn the tide for our country's embattled monarch butterflies -- but our fight isn't over yet.

  • Next, we'll work to make sure Bayer doesn't just replace one toxic chemical with another, and actually reformulates Roundup in a way that's proven safe by independent research.
  • We'll continue working to remove glyphosate from agricultural pesticides to build a more sustainable food system.
  • We're still calling to ban the worst uses of neonicotinoids, another class of pesticides that has been linked to pollinator die-offs.

Thank you for making this all possible -- now let's look forward to what else we can accomplish together.

The Environmental Action team

P.S. We'll keep organizing until our pollinators, and our planet, are safe, but we need your help to keep our campaigns running. Will you donate today to keep our campaigns for monarchs, bees and more going strong?

1. "Bayer takes additional $4.5 billion charge for Roundup suits," Associated Press, July 29, 2021.
2. Claire Fahy, "California's Monarch Butterflies Are Down 99%. Can This Plant Help?," New York Times, June 1, 2021.
3. Warren Cornwall, "The Missing Monarchs," Slate, January 29, 2014.
4. Olga R. Rodriguez, "Monarch butterfly population moves closer to extinction," Associated Press, January 19, 2021.
5. Sam Bloch, "New EPA finding: Glyphosate harms 93 percent of endangered species," The Counter, December 2, 2020.
6. "IARC Monograph on Glyphosate," International Agency for Research on Cancer, last accessed December 22, 2020.


Your donation will be used to stand up for wildlife and the wild places they call home, and to support all of our campaigns to protect our environment. The generosity of people just like you is what makes all of our work possible.


On a personal level I will always wonder if my Lymphoma back in 2013 was caused by groundwater contaminated by years of living next to a farmer's cornfield.

I also want to sound the alarm on that final bullet point about neonicotinoids killing off our pollinators.  Often called "neonics", their use is banned in the European Union because the EU recognized their threat to bees.  Our pollinators are critical to our agriculture, affecting not only plants, but those who eat plants, be they cattle or people.  A concise explanation of this information comes from the American Chemical Society's Chemical & Engineering News.  Exposure to neonics poisons a bees' central nervous system, causing a 45.5% loss this past year -- the second highest loss of honeybees on record.  The good news is neonics aren't needed and its sale is now banned in Connecticut, Maine, Maryland, and Massachusetts.  To find out how your state is doing and send a request to your governor about this you can write your own email or use the link at https://environmental-action.org/beeport-card/

All right, I'll get off my online soapbox now and present the story.  Following it, I direct you to a really great resource, useful beyond just the topic of butterflies.


This butterfly story comes from Ada Skinner's The Emerald Story Book.   It's written by Margaret Gatty, an English naturalist, marine biologist, and author of children's literature.  Like many women authors in the 19th century, she wrote using her husband's married name, writing as Mrs. Alfred Gatty.  Since her husband was a minister, this probably was needed at that time.  By all means read the linked article on her, especially about her personal life.  You may also recognize her daughter, Julia Horatia Ewing, if you're familiar with 19th century children's literature.  She followed her mother's writing path and was well regarded by such authors as Rudyard Kipling and E. Nesbit and additionally influenced the Baden-Powells.  I'm uncertain which of Gatty's books contained this story.  What I could find online didn't include it.  I'm grateful it's in The Emerald Story Book.

THE BUTTERFLY

                                Mrs. Alfred Gatty

“Let me hire you as a nurse for my poor children,” said a Butterfly to a quiet Caterpillar, who was strolling along a cabbage-leaf in her odd lumbering way. “See these little eggs,” continued the Butterfly; “I don’t know how long it will be before they come to life, and I feel very sick and poorly, and if I should die, who will take care of my baby butterflies when I am gone? Will you, kind, mild, green Caterpillar? But you must mind what you give them to eat, Caterpillar!—they cannot, of course, live on your rough food. You must give them early dew, and honey from the flowers; and you must let them fly about only a little way at first; for, of course, one can’t expect them to use their wings properly all at once. Dear me, it is a sad pity you cannot fly yourself! But I have no time to look for another nurse now, so you will do your best, I hope. Dear, dear! I cannot think what made me come and lay my eggs on a cabbage-leaf! What a place for young butterflies to be born upon! Still you will be kind, will you not, to the poor little ones? Here, take this gold-dust from my wings as a reward. Oh, how dizzy I am! Caterpillar, you will remember about the food—”

And with these words the Butterfly drooped her wings and was gone; and the green Caterpillar, who had not had the opportunity of even saying Yes or No to the request, was left standing alone by the side of the Butterfly’s eggs.

“A pretty nurse she has chosen, indeed, poor lady!” exclaimed she, “and a pretty business I have in hand! Why, her senses must have left her, or she never would have asked a poor crawling creature like me to bring up her dainty little ones! Much they’ll mind me, truly, when they feel the gay wings on their backs, and can fly away out of my sight whenever they choose! Ah! how silly some people are, in spite of their painted clothes and the gold-dust on their wings!”

However, the poor Butterfly was gone, and there lay the eggs on the cabbage-leaf; and the green Caterpillar had a kind heart, so she resolved to do her best. But she got no sleep that night, she was so very anxious. She made her back quite ache with walking all night round her young charges, for fear any harm should happen to them; and in the morning says she to herself—

“Two heads are better than one. I will consult some wise animal upon the matter, and get advice. How should a poor crawling creature like me know what to do without asking my betters?”

But still there was difficulty—whom should the Caterpillar consult? There was the shaggy Dog who sometimes came into the garden. But he was so rough!—he would most likely whisk all the eggs off the cabbage-leaf with one brush of his tail, if she called him near to talk to her, and then she should never forgive herself. There was the Tom Cat, to be sure, who would sometimes sit at the foot of the apple-tree, basking himself and warming his fur in the sunshine; but he was so selfish and indifferent!—there was no hope of his giving himself the trouble to think about butterflies’ eggs. “I wonder which is the wisest of all the animals I know,” sighed the Caterpillar, in great distress; and then she thought, and thought, till at last she thought of the Lark; and she fancied that because he went up so high, and nobody knew where he went to, he must be very clever, and know a great deal; for to go up very high (which she could never do) was the Caterpillar’s idea of perfect glory.

Now in the neighbouring corn-field there lived a Lark, and the Caterpillar sent a message to him, to beg him to come and talk to her, and when he came she told him all her difficulties, and asked him what she was to do to feed and rear the little creatures so different from herself.

“Perhaps you will be able to inquire and hear something about it the next time you go up high,” observed the Caterpillar, timidly.

The Lark said, “Perhaps he should;” but he did not satisfy her curiosity any further. Soon afterwards, however, he went singing upwards into the bright blue sky. By degrees his voice died away in the distance till the green Caterpillar could not hear a sound. It is nothing to say she could not see him, for, poor thing, she never could see far at any time, and had a difficulty in looking upwards at all, even when she reared herself up most carefully, which she did now; but it was of no use, so she dropped upon her legs again, and resumed her walk round the Butterfly’s eggs, nibbling a bit of the cabbage-leaf now and then as she moved along.

“What a time the Lark has been gone!” she cried, at last. “I wonder where he is just now! I would give all my legs to know! He must have flown up higher than usual this time, I do think! How I should like to know where it is that he goes to, and what he hears in that curious blue sky! He always sings going up and coming down, but he never lets any secret out. He is very close!”

And the green Caterpillar took another turn round the Butterfly’s eggs.

At last the Lark’s voice began to be heard again. The Caterpillar almost jumped for joy, and it was not long before she saw her friend descend with hushed note to the cabbage bed.

“News, news, glorious news, friend Caterpillar!” sang the Lark; “but the worst of it is, you won’t believe me!”

“I believe everything I am told,” observed the Caterpillar, hastily.

“Well, then, first of all, I will tell you what these little creatures are to eat”—and the Lark nodded his beak towards the eggs. “What do you think it is to be? Guess!”

“Dew, and the honey out of flowers, I am afraid,” sighed the Caterpillar.

“No such thing! Something simpler than that. Something you can get at quite easily.”

“I can get at nothing quite easily but the cabbage-leaves,” murmured the Caterpillar, in distress.

“Excellent! my good friend,” cried the Lark, exultingly; “you have found it out. You are to feed them with cabbage-leaves.”

Never!” cried the Caterpillar, indignantly. “It was their mother’s last request that I should do no such thing.”

“Their mother knew nothing about the matter,” persisted the Lark; “but why do you ask me, and then disbelieve what I say? You have neither faith nor trust.”

“Oh, I believe everything I am told,” said the Caterpillar.

“Nay, but you do not,” replied the Lark; “you won’t believe me even about the food, and yet that is but a beginning of what I have to tell you. Why, Caterpillar, what do you think those little eggs will turn out to be?”

“Butterflies, to be sure,” said the Caterpillar.

Caterpillars!” sang the Lark; “and you’ll find it out in time;” and the Lark flew away, for he did not want to stay and contest the point with his friend.

“I thought the Lark had been wise and kind,” observed the mild green Caterpillar, once more beginning to walk round the eggs, “but I find that he is foolish and saucy instead. Perhaps he went up too high this time. Ah, it’s a pity when people who soar so high are silly and rude nevertheless! Dear! I still wonder whom he sees, and what he does up yonder.”

“I would tell you if you would believe me,” sang the Lark, descending once more.

“I believe everything I am told,” reiterated the Caterpillar, with as grave a face as if it were a fact.

“Then I’ll tell you something else,” cried the Lark; “for the best of my news remains behind. You will one day be a Butterfly yourself.

“Wretched bird!” exclaimed the Caterpillar, “you jest with my inferiority—now you are cruel as well as foolish. Go away! I will ask your advice no more.”

“I told you you would not believe me,” cried the Lark.

“I believe everything that I am told,” persisted the Caterpillar; “that is”—and she hesitated—“everything that is reasonable to believe. But to tell me that butterflies’ eggs are caterpillars, and that caterpillars leave off crawling and get wings, and become butterflies!—Lark! you are too wise to believe such nonsense yourself, for you know it is impossible.”

“I know no such thing,” said the Lark, warmly. “Whether I hover over the cornfields of earth, or go up into the depths of the sky, I see so many wonderful things, I know no reason why there should not be more. Oh, Caterpillar! it is because you crawl, because you never get beyond your cabbage-leaf, that you call any thing impossible.”

“Nonsense!” shouted the Caterpillar, “I know what’s possible, and what’s not possible, according to my experience and capacity, as well as you do. Look at my long green body and these endless legs, and then talk to me about having wings and a painted feathery coat.”

“You would-be-wise Caterpillar!” cried the indignant Lark. “Do you not hear how my song swells with rejoicing as I soar upwards to the mysterious wonder-world above? Oh, Caterpillar; what comes to you from thence, receive, as I do, upon trust.”

“That is what you call—”

“Faith,” interrupted the Lark.

“How am I to learn Faith?” asked the Caterpillar.

At that moment she felt something at her side. She looked round—eight or ten little green caterpillars were moving about, and had already made a show of a hole in the cabbage-leaf. They had broken from the Butterfly’s eggs!

Shame and amazement filled our green friend’s heart, but joy soon followed; for, as the first wonder was possible, the second might be so too. “Teach me your lesson, Lark!” she would say; and the Lark sang to her of the wonders of the earth below and of the heaven above. And the Caterpillar talked all the rest of her life to her relations of the time when she should be a Butterfly.

But none of them believed her. She nevertheless had learnt the Lark’s lesson of faith, and when she was going into her chrysalis, she said—

“I shall be a Butterfly some day!”

But her relations thought her head was wandering, and they said, “Poor thing!”

And when she was a Butterfly, and was going to die again, she said—

“I have known many wonders—I have faith—I can trust even now for what shall come next!”

***** 

I don't have a week to wait for permission to print here, but you can go to Crayola.com free coloring sheets where you can find a Butterfly mask, Butterfly clip on a clothes pin, a very challenging Butterfly mandala, an appropriate page with both Butterfly and Caterpillar, and a few more pictures.  While there you can also find lesson plans and crafts.  The Butterfly crafts include two types of Butterfly puppets which can be used to help tell this story.  If you're able to take the story outside, there's a Butterfly kite.  Clicking "All" shows coloring sheets, lesson plans, crafts, and creations submitted by young artists.  Don't stop with the Butterfly topic, similarly they have a wide variety of themes.  Their site constantly adds to their resources, so it's an excellent resource to know and use.

One quick note here: I discovered a typo on the label of past posts about butterflies making it "butterfllies."  I corrected it for this post.  Now I am going to have to see if there's a way I can correct the label on the earlier posts so they can stay together.

*****************

This is part of a series of postings of stories under the category, "Keeping the Public in Public Domain."  The idea behind Public Domain was to preserve our cultural heritage after the authors and their immediate heirs were compensated.  I feel strongly current copyright law delays this intent on works of the 20th century.  My own library of folklore includes so many books within the Public Domain I decided to share stories from them.  I hope you enjoy discovering new stories.  



At the same time, my own involvement in storytelling regularly creates projects requiring research as part of my sharing stories with an audience.  Whenever that research needs to be shown here, the publishing of Public Domain stories will not occur that week.  This is a return to my regular posting of a research project here.  (Don't worry, this isn't dry research, my research is always geared towards future storytelling to an audience.)  Response has convinced me that "Keeping the Public in Public Domain" should continue along with my other postings as often as I can manage it.
Other Public Domain story resources I recommend-
  • There are many online resources for Public Domain stories, maybe none for folklore is as ambitious as fellow storyteller, Yoel Perez's database, Yashpeh, the International Folktales Collection.  I have long recommended it and continue to do so.  He has loaded Stith Thompson's Motif Index into his server as a database so you can search the whole 6 volumes for whatever word or expression you like by pressing one key. http://folkmasa.org/motiv/motif.htm
  • You may have noticed I'm no longer certain Dr. Perez has the largest database, although his offering the Motif Index certainly qualifies for those of us seeking specific types of stories.  There's another site, FairyTalez claiming to be the largest, with "over 2000 fairy tales, folktales, and fables" and they are "fully optimized for phones, tablets, and PCs", free and presented without ads.

    Between those two sites, there is much for story-lovers, but as they say in infomercials, "Wait, there's more!"
The email list for storytellers, Storytell, discussed Online Story Sources and came up with these additional suggestions:            
         - David K. Brown - http://people.ucalgary.ca/~dkbrown/stories.html
         - Richard Martin - http://www.tellatale.eu/tales_page.html
         - Spirit of Trees - http://spiritoftrees.org/featured-folktales
         - Story-Lovers - http://www.story-lovers.com/ is now only accessible through the Wayback Machine, described below, but the late Jackie Baldwin's wonderful site lives on there, fully searchable manually (the Google search doesn't work), at https://archive.org/ .  It's not easy, but go to Story-lovers.com snapshot for October 22 2016  and you can click on SOS: Searching Out Stories to scroll down through the many story topics and click on the story topic that interests you.
       - World of Tales - http://www.worldoftales.com/ 
           - Zalka Csenge Virag - http://multicoloreddiary.blogspot.com doesn't give the actual stories, but her recommendations, working her way through each country on a continent, give excellent ideas for finding new books and stories to love and tell.
     
You're going to find many of the links on these sites have gone down, BUT go to the Internet Archive Wayback Machine to find some of these old links.  Tim's site, for example, is so huge probably updating it would be a full-time job.  In the case of Story-Lovers, it's great that Jackie Baldwin set it up to stay online as long as it did after she could no longer maintain it.  Possibly searches maintained it.  Unfortunately Storytell list member, Papa Joe is on both Tim Sheppard's site and Story-Lovers, but he no longer maintains his old Papa Joe's Traveling Storytelling Show website and his Library (something you want to see!) is now only on the Wayback Machine.  It took some patience working back through claims of snapshots but finally in December of 2006 it appears!
    Somebody as of this writing whose stories can still be found by his website is the late Chuck Larkin - http://chucklarkin.com/stories.html.  I prefer to list these sites by their complete address so they can be found by the Wayback Machine, a.k.a. Archive.org, when that becomes the only way to find them.
You can see why I recommend these to you. Have fun discovering even more stories!