CHAPTER XIV

ÆSOP'S FABLES--GRIMM's FAIRY TALES--HANS ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES--THE ARABIAN NIGHTS--MALORY'S MORTE D'ARTHUR

We know a little of the glorious gift of song that the early Greeks themselves enjoyed and left to coming generations of mankind. But other countries, these countries where men and women earliest taught themselves by hard work, as we say, to be civilized, have also given the world treasures of wit, wisdom and enjoyment.

One of the earliest forms used by men, when they wanted to tell of some experience they had had, was the fable. A fable is a very brief, simple story, generally a little story about animals. Very early in the history of mankind, men noticed animals, watched them, saw that the animals often acted somewhat in the same way as men did themselves, and were delighted and amused by their cunning and cleverness. It was natural that people should begin by telling stories about animals.

Here are two fables, one of an animal trying to get the better of another animal, and the second of two animals helping one another. These fables are said to have been made by Æsop.

A wolf seeing a goat feeding on the brow of a high precipice where he could not come at her, besought her to come down lower, for fear she {91} should miss her footing at that dizzy height; "And moreover," said he, "the grass is far sweeter and more abundant here below." But the goat replied, "Excuse me; it is not for my dinner that you invite me, but for your own."

The second fable tells of an ant falling into a fountain of water where he was drinking because he was thirsty and of the ant being nearly drowned. A dove dropped a leaf into the water on which the ant climbed and so escaped. A man just then had almost caught the dove in a net, but the ant bit him on the heel, the man started, dropped his net and the dove flew away. The fable ends by saying that one good turn deserves another.

Fables as a rule were first told, it is believed, not by famous people or great writers, but more often by ordinary people who were not rich or learned. Perhaps they wanted to say something about the politics of the country where they lived, or about some ruler who was a tyrant. They did not wish to get into trouble, so they put what they wanted to say into a little story.

Tradition tells us that Æsop, the most famous maker of fables, was a slave, very misshapen in body, and that he stammered when he spoke. There is a collection of Æsop's and other Fables in Everyman's Library. Read some of these little stories and remember how men, who were not as free or as safe as we are to-day, made these fables which are full of laughter, good temper, and keen wit, and which are very wise. We can learn a great deal from fables, and we can enjoy them at the same time.

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Fairy tales are probably almost as old as fables. We all know how delightful fairy tales can be. Who would do without Jack the Giant Killer, or Cinderella, or Silver Locks, or Blue Beard, or Puss-in-Boots? You can add many more to the list. Some fairy tales are very old, but others are modern. People sometimes say that fairy tales are not true. In a sense, perhaps, they are right; that is, we do not expect to see Jack cutting down and conquering a giant in a day. Yet the men who have perfected telegraph, telephone and radio have overcome in a real way the giant distance, and other men and women are conquering daily, little by little, the great giant disease.

The everyday world we live in is as wonderful as a fairy tale, perhaps more wonderful. Whenever we find in a fairy tale, or in any other way, a sense of the wonder of the world, and of life, this is a very great gain, because then we know that we are really seeing clearly, and understanding what we see. Most of all, perhaps, fairy tales are meant to show us how beautiful the world is.

There are many good collections of fairy tales. The long series of which Andrew Lang was editor contains an excellent selection. Grimm's _Fairy Tales_ are among the most famous in the world. Jacob and William Grimm were two brothers, both of whom were learned professors. Early in the nineteenth century, they published a book of fairy tales which they had gathered by listening to stories told in the nurseries and by the firesides of their own country, Germany. One {93} of the prettiest of these stories is Snow-Drop and the Seven Dwarfs.

Hans Andersen is, perhaps, the best loved of all the writers of fairy stories. He was born in Odense in Denmark in 1805, and was a very poor boy. But he made a toy theatre for his amusement, and no doubt began to make his stories at the same time. He wrote other books, but his _Fairy Tales_ are by far his best work. Hans Andersen was a genius. His stories have such power to touch our hearts that we want to be kind and true and modest, following the example of his heroes and heroines. The world, especially the world of homes, would be a poorer place if Hans Andersen had never written The Wild Swans, The Red Shoes, The Steadfast Tin Soldier, The Little Match Girl, and especially The Ugly Duckling.

Many of the most wonderful tales of magic come out of the East. The people of Arabia and Egypt are gifted narrators of stories. We owe them our vast enjoyment of the stories in _The Arabian Nights_. These stories are very old indeed; many of them must have come in the first place from Persia and India. Egypt supplies much of what we call local colour. The stories were gathered together from different sources, probably between 1450 and 1500; England then was engaged in the long struggle know as the Wars of the Roses. It was not until 1704 that Europeans first could read _The Arabian Nights_. At that time a French professor, Antoine Galland, published a French translation of a book of Arabic stories. It is odd to think that children {94} of the English-speaking world did not know of Ali Baba, or Sindbad, or Aladdin, until the time of the reign of Queen Anne. Now we all can listen to the beautiful Schehera-zade telling her thousand and one tales to her husband, the great sultan Schah-riar, so that she would not be executed before the last of the stories was finished. Schah-riar was a tyrant, and a very spoiled person. But Schehera-zade was clever and resourceful, and in the end saved herself. These strange stories of giants, genii, caliphs, and lovely princesses are among the most famous in the world.

We come now to a different kind of book, _Morte d'Arthur_, stories of King Arthur of Britain and his Knights of the Bound Table. These stories Scott used to read when he was a boy, and so did many another lad of genius who, when he was older, never forgot the chivalry and the glory of Malory's great book. It may seem a curious book, perhaps, to many of you when you first look at it, for it is written in an older English than the words we use; and the customs and the people may appear strange and hard to understand. Sir Thomas Malory, who collected the stories and translated most of them from French into English, is supposed to have been a Lancastrian knight who was thrown into prison in the Wars of the Roses and kept there long years. He spent that weary time copying out by hand, for then there were no printing presses, the book we know as _Morte d'Arthur_. Malory finished his work in 1470. Not long after his death, the manuscript was brought to Caxton, who was the first great printer in England, and Caxton printed the book in 1485.

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These are stories of heroes, in some far away sense like _The Iliad_ and _The Odyssey_, but they are written in a wonderful prose, not like Homer's even more wonderful poetry. There is, however, a great change in the lives of heroes between the days of Homer and the days of Malory. Let us take one of Malory's stories, and try to see what the change is.

The seventh book of _Morte d'Arthur_ tells the story of Beaumains, who was Gareth of Orkney in disguise, and of how he won his knighthood. Like many other young men of that time, Gareth wanted to be one of King Arthur's Knights. Gareth was well-born and wealthy, but he wished to win honour and glory--what Malory calls worship--by worthy deeds, so he came in disguise to Arthur's Court.

He asked three petitions, and the King granted them. The first was that he might be given food and drink and lodging for a year. At the end of that time, he would ask for his other two petitions. Sir Kay, who was the steward, thought only a poor-spirited fellow would ask for meat and drink, so he gave him lodging and food with the boys in the kitchen, and called him Beaumains, fair hands, or as people sometimes say now lily fingers. Beaumains waited the year, then a damsel came asking for a knight to rescue her lady who was besieged in a castle, but she would not tell her name. King Arthur said he would not let any of his knights go unless she told the name. Then Beaumains made his other petitions. The first was that he might be commissioned to go with the damsel and rescue the lady, {96} and the second that he might joust with the great knight, Sir Launcelot of the Lake, and win knighthood from him. King Arthur gave his consent. Beaumains jousted with Sir Launcelot and won his knighthood. But the damsel was very angry, and said she had been given only a kitchen page. Beaumains went with her in spite of her angry abuse, fought with many knights and overcame them, and finally rescued the Lady Lionesse who was the damsel's sister. The damsel's name was Linet. Thus Sir Gareth won great honour and worship.

What really is this honour--the worship of which Malory writes? Knighthood was won by being brave, and by doing mighty deeds. But the true spirit of knighthood--the very essence of it, as we say--is shown by one test; the deeds must be unselfish. The knight was a rescuer; he was a righter of other people's wrongs. When King Arthur lived, people had begun to learn that the most heroic life is the self-sacrificing life. When Linet was abusing Beaumains, and telling him that he would never accomplish the great adventure on which his hopes were set, the only answer he made to her was, "I shall assay." This means, "I shall try." It was a noble answer. There is still only one way of winning true honour by unselfish deeds. First, one must have the desire, then those who desire must also try. As Beaumains said, "I shall assay."

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