Today, June 29, is the birthday of Antoine de Saint-Exupery (1900), best known for the novella, The Little Prince. I won't give it here for two reasons, its length and the fact it was published in 1943 here in the United States and its copyright was indeed renewed in 1971. You may notice links for both the author and the novella. If your French is good enough and you really are interested, there's yet another website, https://www.antoinedesaintexupery.com/ . My own French is courtesy of ballet and Google Translate has its limits. The link for the novella I gave is to "The Little Prince, official website" in English. (The author's site in French gives that same site in French.) Wikipedia notes the story's translation into "more than 250 languages and dialects and among the top four selling books in the world;[98] made as both movies and TV films in a number of languages, and adapted to numerous other media in many languages."
Yet that website for "The Little Prince" shows there continue to be events around the world, an incredible number of related products (buy online or the shop in Paris), and even a ten-year old amusement park, Le Parc du Petit Prince, that is "the first aerial theme park in the world, which offers more than 30 attractions for the whole family. Take off in a Captive Balloon, shiver with the Snake, land on a
seaplane, discover the many rides, and meet the Foxes for an
unforgettable day. All the magic of the Little Prince in a place unique
in the world, which has already attracted 1.2 million visitors!"
Scroll down to the links at the bottom of the site for the annual magazine. There is yet another article on the park in Alsace (now at 1.5 million visitors and I imagine many more after the Olympics). The text is bilingual, expecting both English and French readers.
With World War II's Nazi occupation of France the story was only published posthumously in France. Saint-Exupery died in a plane crash on an Allied reconnaissance mission. Two years earlier this, his only book for children, was created when " the wife of one of his publishers helped persuade Saint-Exupéry to produce a children's book, hoping to calm his nerves and also compete with the new series of Mary Poppins stories by P.L. Travers."
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| Illustrator: Dmitrii Isidorovich Mitrokhin |
It's all very French, but knowing I couldn't tell nor publish it here, I began to think about princes and came up with a very Russian little prince. I love Arthur Ransome's
Old Peter's Russian Tales and have more than half a dozen times given here these tellable versions of Russian folklore. A major character in the book is the classic Russian witch, Baba Yaga.
I first met the witch when Caldecott award-winning illustrator, Blair Lent, published the story from Ransome given in the anthology as "Baba Yaga and the Little Girl with the Kind Heart." Lent simply titled his book Baba Yaga. In searching for information for this story, I discovered that he published the book in 1966 using the pen name of Ernest Small as the author when he actually did the adaptation.
There are many stories throughout Slavic folklore and Wikipedia's article on Baba Yaga claims she has two opposite roles. I have only every found stories of the witch, but they say she may also be "a nice old woman, who helps out the hero.[1] "
-- that footnote is in Russian and now I want to see if I can find any evidence of that personality!
Back to the little Russian prince, I believe the "witch baby", who grows like a corn seed becoming fully grown in six weeks with iron teeth is the start of Baba Yaga. She certainly pursues the prince in the fashion of the infamous Russian witch.
PRINCE IVAN, THE WITCH BABY, AND THE LITTLE
SISTER OF THE SUN.
Once upon a time, very long ago, there was a little Prince Ivan
who was dumb. Never a word had he spoken from the day that he was
born—not so much as a "Yes" or a "No," or a
"Please" or a "Thank you." A great sorrow he was
to his father because he could not speak. Indeed, neither his father
nor his mother could bear the sight of him, for they thought, "A
poor sort of Tzar will a dumb boy make!" They even prayed, and
said, "If only we could have another child, whatever it is like,
it could be no worse than this tongue-tied brat who cannot say a
word." And for that wish they were punished, as you shall hear.
And they took no sort of care of the little Prince Ivan, and he spent
all his time in the stables, listening to the tales of an old groom.
He was a wise man was the old groom, and he knew the past and the
future, and what was happening under the earth. Maybe he had learnt
his wisdom from the horses. Anyway, he knew more than other folk, and
there came a day when he said to Prince Ivan,—
"Little Prince," says he, "to-day you have a
sister, and a bad one at that. She has come because of your father's
prayers and your mother's wishes. A witch she is, and she will grow
like a seed of corn. In six weeks she'll be a grown witch, and with
her iron teeth she will eat up your father, and eat up your mother,
and eat up you too, if she gets the chance. There's no saving the old
people; but if you are quick, and do what I tell you, you may escape,
and keep your soul in your body. And I love you, my little dumb
Prince, and do not wish to think of your little body between her iron
teeth. You must go to your father and ask him for the best horse he
has, and then gallop like the wind, and away to the end of the
world."
The little Prince ran off and found his father. There was his
father, and there was his mother, and a little baby girl was in his
mother's arms, screaming like a little fury.
"Well, she's not dumb," said his father, as if he were
well pleased.
"Father," says the little Prince, "may I have the
fastest horse in the stable?" And those were the first words
that ever left his mouth.
"What!" says his father, "have you got a voice at
last? Yes, take whatever horse you want. And see, you have a little
sister; a fine little girl she is too. She has teeth already. It's a
pity they are black, but time will put that right, and it's better to
have black teeth than to be born dumb."
Little Prince Ivan shook in his shoes when he heard of the black
teeth of his little sister, for he knew that they were iron. He
thanked his father and ran off to the stable. The old groom saddled
the finest horse there was. Such a horse you never saw. Black it was,
and its saddle and bridle were trimmed with shining silver. And
little Prince Ivan climbed up and sat on the great black horse, and
waved his hand to the old groom, and galloped away, on and on over
the wide world.
"It's a big place, this world," thought the little
Prince. "I wonder when I shall come to the end of it." You
see, he had never been outside the palace grounds. And he had only
ridden a little Finnish pony. And now he sat high up, perched on the
back of the great black horse, who galloped with hoofs that thundered
beneath him, and leapt over rivers and streams and hillocks, and
anything else that came in his way.
On and on galloped the little Prince on the great black horse.
There were no houses anywhere to be seen. It was a long time since
they had passed any people, and little Prince Ivan began to feel very
lonely, and to wonder if indeed he had come to the end of the world,
and could bring his journey to an end.
Suddenly, on a wide, sandy plain, he saw two old, old women
sitting in the road.
They were bent double over their work, sewing and sewing, and now
one and now the other broke a needle, and took a new one out of a box
between them, and threaded the needle with thread from another box,
and went on sewing and sewing. Their old noses nearly touched their
knees as they bent over their work.
Little Prince Ivan pulled up the great black horse in a cloud of
dust, and spoke to the old women.
"Grandmothers," said he, "is this the end of the
world? Let me stay here and live with you, and be safe from my baby
sister, who is a witch and has iron teeth. Please let me stay with
you, and I'll be very little trouble, and thread your needles for you
when you break them."
"Prince Ivan, my dear," said one of the old women, "this
is not the end of the world, and little good would it be to you to
stay with us. For as soon as we have broken all our needles and used
up all our thread we shall die, and then where would you be? Your
sister with the iron teeth would have you in a minute."
The little Prince cried bitterly, for he was very little and all
alone. He rode on further over the wide world, the black horse
galloping and galloping, and throwing the dust from his thundering
hoofs.
He came into a forest of great oaks, the biggest oak trees in the
whole world. And in that forest was a dreadful noise—the crashing
of trees falling, the breaking of branches, and the whistling of
things hurled through the air. The Prince rode on, and there before
him was the huge giant, Tree-rooter, hauling the great oaks out of
the ground and flinging them aside like weeds.
"I should be safe with him," thought little Prince Ivan,
"and this, surely, must be the end of the world."
He rode close up under the giant, and stopped the black horse, and
shouted up into the air.
"Please, great giant," says he, "is this the end of
the world? And may I live with you and be safe from my sister, who is
a witch, and grows like a seed of corn, and has iron teeth?"
"Prince Ivan, my dear," says Tree-rooter, "this is
not the end of the world, and little good would it be to you to stay
with me. For as soon as I have rooted up all these trees I shall die,
and then where would you be? Your sister would have you in a minute.
And already there are not many big trees left."
And the giant set to work again, pulling up the great trees and
throwing them aside. The sky was full of flying trees.
Little Prince Ivan cried bitterly, for he was very little and was
all alone. He rode on further over the wide world, the black horse
galloping and galloping under the tall trees, and throwing clods of
earth from his thundering hoofs.
He came among the mountains. And there was a roaring and a
crashing in the mountains as if the earth was falling to pieces. One
after another whole mountains were lifted up into the sky and flung
down to earth, so that they broke and scattered into dust. And the
big black horse galloped through the mountains, and little Prince
Ivan sat bravely on his back. And there, close before him, was the
huge giant Mountain-tosser, picking up the mountains like pebbles and
hurling them to little pieces and dust upon the ground.
"This must be the end of the world," thought the little
Prince; "and at any rate I should be safe with him."
"Please, great giant," says he, "is this the end of
the world? And may I live with you and be safe from my sister, who is
a witch, and has iron teeth, and grows like a seed of corn?"
"Prince Ivan, my dear," says Mountain-tosser, resting
for a moment and dusting the rocks off his great hands, "this is
not the end of the world, and little good would it be to you to stay
with me. For as soon as I have picked up all these mountains and
thrown them down again I shall die, and then where would you be? Your
sister would have you in a minute. And there are not very many
mountains left."
And the giant set to work again, lifting up the great mountains
and hurling them away. The sky was full of flying mountains.
Little Prince Ivan wept bitterly, for he was very little and was
all alone. He rode on further over the wide world, the black horse
galloping and galloping along the mountain paths, and throwing the
stones from his thundering hoofs.
At last he came to the end of the world, and there, hanging in the
sky above him, was the castle of the little sister of the Sun.
Beautiful it was, made of cloud, and hanging in the sky, as if it
were built of red roses.
"I should be safe up there," thought little Prince Ivan,
and just then the Sun's little sister opened the window and beckoned
to him.
Prince Ivan patted the big black horse and whispered to it, and it
leapt up high into the air and through the window, into the very
courtyard of the castle.
"Stay here and play with me," said the little sister of
the Sun; and Prince Ivan tumbled off the big black horse into her
arms, and laughed because he was so happy.
Merry and pretty was the Sun's little sister, and she was very
kind to little Prince Ivan. They played games together, and when she
was tired she let him do whatever he liked and run about her castle.
This way and that he ran about the battlements of rosy cloud, hanging
in the sky over the end of the world.
But one day he climbed up and up to the topmost turret of the
castle. From there he could see the whole world. And far, far away,
beyond the mountains, beyond the forests, beyond the wide plains, he
saw his father's palace where he had been born. The roof of the
palace was gone, and the walls were broken and crumbling. And little
Prince Ivan came slowly down from the turret, and his eyes were red
with weeping.
"My dear," says the Sun's little sister, "why are
your eyes so red?"
"It is the wind up there," says little Prince Ivan.
And the Sun's little sister put her head out of the window of the
castle of cloud and whispered to the winds not to blow so hard.
But next day little Prince Ivan went up again to that topmost
turret, and looked far away over the wide world to the ruined palace.
"She has eaten them all with her iron teeth," he said to
himself. And his eyes were red when he came down.
"My dear," says the Sun's little sister, "your eyes
are red again."
"It is the wind," says little Prince Ivan.
And the Sun's little sister put her head out of the window and
scolded the wind.
But the third day again little Prince Ivan climbed up the stairs
of cloud to that topmost turret, and looked far away to the broken
palace where his father and mother had lived. And he came down from
the turret with the tears running down his face.
"Why, you are crying, my dear!" says the Sun's little
sister. "Tell me what it is all about."
So little Prince Ivan told the little sister of the Sun how his
sister was a witch, and how he wept to think of his father and
mother, and how he had seen the ruins of his father's palace far
away, and how he could not stay with her happily until he knew how it
was with his parents.
"Perhaps it is not yet too late to save them from her iron
teeth, though the old groom said that she would certainly eat them,
and that it was the will of God. But let me ride back on my big black
horse."
"Do not leave me, my dear," says the Sun's little
sister. "I am lonely here by myself."
"I will ride back on my big black horse, and then I will come
to you again."
"What must be, must," says the Sun's little sister;
"though she is more likely to eat you than you are to save them.
You shall go. But you must take with you a magic comb, a magic brush,
and two apples of youth. These apples would make young once more the
oldest things on earth."
Then she kissed little Prince Ivan, and he climbed up on his big
black horse, and leapt out of the window of the castle down on the
end of the world, and galloped off on his way back over the wide
world.
He came to Mountain-tosser, the giant. There was only one mountain
left, and the giant was just picking it up. Sadly he was picking it
up, for he knew that when he had thrown it away his work would be
done and he would have to die.
"Well, little Prince Ivan," says Mountain-tosser, "this
is the end;" and he heaves up the mountain. But before he could
toss it away the little Prince threw his magic brush on the plain,
and the brush swelled and burst, and there were range upon range of
high mountains, touching the sky itself.
"Why," says Mountain-tosser, "I have enough
mountains now to last me for another thousand years. Thank you
kindly, little Prince."
And he set to work again, heaving up mountains and tossing them
down, while little Prince Ivan galloped on across the wide world.
He came to Tree-rooter, the giant. There were only two of the
great oaks left, and the giant had one in each hand.
"Ah me, little Prince Ivan," says Tree-rooter, "my
life is come to its end; for I have only to pluck up these two trees
and throw them down, and then I shall die."
"Pluck them up," says little Prince Ivan. "Here are
plenty more for you." And he threw down his comb. There was a
noise of spreading branches, of swishing leaves, of opening buds, all
together, and there before them was a forest of great oaks stretching
farther than the giant could see, tall though he was.
"Why," says Tree-rooter, "here are enough trees to
last me for another thousand years. Thank you kindly, little Prince."
And he set to work again, pulling up the big trees, laughing
joyfully and hurling them over his head, while little Prince Ivan
galloped on across the wide world.
He came to the two old women. They were crying their eyes out.
"There is only one needle left!" says the first.
"There is only one bit of thread in the box!" sobs the
second.
"And then we shall die!" they say both together,
mumbling with their old mouths.
"Before you use the needle and thread, just eat these
apples," says little Prince Ivan, and he gives them the two
apples of youth.
The two old women took the apples in their old shaking fingers and
ate them, bent double, mumbling with their old lips. They had hardly
finished their last mouthfuls when they sat up straight, smiled with
sweet red lips, and looked at the little Prince with shining eyes.
They had become young girls again, and their gray hair was black as
the raven.
"Thank you kindly, little Prince," say the two young
girls. "You must take with you the handkerchief we have been
sewing all these years. Throw it to the ground, and it will turn into
a lake of water. Perhaps some day it will be useful to you."
"Thank you," says the little Prince, and off he gallops,
on and on over the wide world.
He came at last to his father's palace. The roof was gone, and
there were holes in the walls. He left his horse at the edge of the
garden, and crept up to the ruined palace and peeped through a hole.
Inside, in the great hall, was sitting a huge baby girl, filling the
whole hall. There was no room for her to move. She had knocked off
the roof with a shake of her head. And she sat there in the ruined
hall, sucking her thumb.
And while Prince Ivan was watching through the hole he heard her
mutter to herself,—
"Eaten the father, eaten the mother, And now to eat
the little brother"
And she began shrinking, getting smaller and smaller every minute.
Little Prince Ivan had only just time to get away from the hole in
the wall when a pretty little baby girl came running out of the
ruined palace.
"You must be my little brother Ivan," she called out to
him, and came up to him smiling. But as she smiled the little Prince
saw that her teeth were black; and as she shut her mouth he heard
them clink together like pokers.
"Come in," says she, and she took little Prince Ivan
with her to a room in the palace, all broken down and cobwebbed.
There was a dulcimer lying in the dust on the floor.
"Well, little brother," says the witch baby, "you
play on the dulcimer and amuse yourself while I get supper ready. But
don't stop playing, or I shall feel lonely." And she ran off and
left him.
Little Prince Ivan sat down and played tunes on the dulcimer—sad
enough tunes. You would not play dance music if you thought you were
going to be eaten by a witch.
But while he was playing a little gray mouse came out of a crack
in the floor. Some people think that this was the wise old groom, who
had turned into a little gray mouse to save Ivan from the witch baby.
"Ivan, Ivan," says the little gray mouse, "run
while you may. Your father and mother were eaten long ago, and well
they deserved it. But be quick, or you will be eaten too. Your pretty
little sister is putting an edge on her teeth!"
Little Prince Ivan thanked the mouse, and ran out from the ruined
palace, and climbed up on the back of his big black horse, with its
saddle and bridle trimmed with silver. Away he galloped over the wide
world. The witch baby stopped her work and listened. She heard the
music of the dulcimer, so she made sure he was still there. She went
on sharpening her teeth with a file, and growing bigger and bigger
every minute. And all the time the music of the dulcimer sounded
among the ruins.
As soon as her teeth were quite sharp she rushed off to eat little
Prince Ivan. She tore aside the walls of the room. There was nobody
there—only a little gray mouse running and jumping this way and
that on the strings of the dulcimer.
When it saw the witch baby the little mouse ran across the floor
and into the crack and away, so that she never caught it. How the
witch baby gnashed her teeth! Poker and tongs, poker and tongs—what
a noise they made! She swelled up, bigger and bigger, till she was a
baby as high as the palace. And then she jumped up so that the palace
fell to pieces about her. Then off she ran after little Prince Ivan.
Little Prince Ivan, on the big black horse, heard a noise behind
him. He looked back, and there was the huge witch, towering over the
trees. She was dressed like a little baby, and her eyes flashed and
her teeth clanged as she shut her mouth. She was running with long
strides, faster even than the black horse could gallop—and he was
the best horse in all the world.
Little Prince Ivan threw down the handkerchief that had been sewn
by the two old women who had eaten the apples of youth. It turned
into a deep, broad lake, so that the witch baby had to swim—and
swimming is slower than running. It took her a long time to get
across, and all that time Prince Ivan was galloping on, never
stopping for a moment.
The witch baby crossed the lake and came thundering after him.
Close behind she was, and would have caught him; but the giant
Tree-rooter saw the little Prince galloping on the big black horse,
and the witch baby tearing after him. He pulled up the great oaks in
armfuls, and threw them down just in front of the witch baby. He made
a huge pile of the big trees, and the witch baby had to stop and gnaw
her way through them with her iron teeth.
It took her a long time to gnaw through the trees, and the black
horse galloped and galloped ahead. But presently Prince Ivan heard a
noise behind him. He looked back, and there was the witch baby,
thirty feet high, racing after him, clanging with her teeth. Close
behind she was, and the little Prince sat firm on the big black
horse, and galloped and galloped. But she would have caught him if
the giant Mountain-tosser had not seen the little Prince on the big
black horse, and the great witch baby running after him. The giant
tore up the biggest mountain in the world and flung it down in front
of her, and another on the top of that. She had to bite her way
through them, while the little Prince galloped and galloped.
At last little Prince Ivan saw the cloud castle of the little
sister of the Sun, hanging over the end of the world and gleaming in
the sky as if it were made of roses. He shouted with hope, and the
black horse shook his head proudly and galloped on. The witch baby
thundered after him. Nearer she came and nearer.
"Ah, little one," screams the witch baby, "you
shan't get away this time!"
The Sun's little sister was looking from a window of the castle in
the sky, and she saw the witch baby stretching out to grab little
Prince Ivan. She flung the window open, and just in time the big
black horse leapt up, and through the window and into the courtyard,
with little Prince Ivan safe on its back.
How the witch baby gnashed her iron teeth!
"Give him up!" she screams.
"I will not," says the Sun's little sister.
"See you here," says the witch baby, and she makes
herself smaller and smaller and smaller, till she was just like a
real little girl. "Let us be weighed in the great scales, and if
I am heavier than Prince Ivan, I can take him; and if he is heavier
than I am, I'll say no more about it."
The Sun's little sister laughed at the witch baby and teased her,
and she hung the great scales out of the cloud castle so that they
swung above the end of the world.
Little Prince Ivan got into one scale, and down it went.
"Now," says the witch baby, "we shall see."
And she made herself bigger and bigger and bigger, till she was as
big as she had been when she sat and sucked her thumb in the hall of
the ruined palace. "I am the heavier," she shouted, and
gnashed her iron teeth. Then she jumped into the other scale.
She was so heavy that the scale with the little Prince in it shot
up into the air. It shot up so fast that little Prince Ivan flew up
into the sky, up and up and up, and came down on the topmost turret
of the cloud castle of the little sister of the Sun.
The Sun's little sister laughed, and closed the window, and went
up to the turret to meet the little Prince. But the witch baby turned
back the way she had come, and went off, gnashing her iron teeth
until they broke. And ever since then little Prince Ivan and the
little sister of the Sun play together in the castle of cloud that
hangs over the end of the world. They borrow the stars to play at
ball, and put them back at night whenever they remember.
"So when there are no stars?" asked Maroosia.
"It means that Prince Ivan and the Sun's little sister have
gone to sleep over their games and forgotten to put their toys away."
***
That second to the last sentence is from the book's frame of "Old Peter" telling the story. I like the reply and incorporate it into my own telling saying "When there are no stars at night, it means..."
Now about Baba Yaga. . . when the time rolls around for a witch story, instead of a prince, she's fascinated children for a long time. I think I'll make a reminder to myself for some Storytelling + Research in October. Think I'll find that " nice old woman, who helps out the hero[1] "? Well if I do, I won't tell it in October.
**********************
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:
-
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 December 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.
- 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
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