Category: Fable

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1860s African American Fable Flowers Short Story

The Mission of the Flowers

The Mission of the Flowers

By Frances E. Watkins
Annotations by Rene Marzuk
Illustration from the cover of How to Grow Roses, thirteenth edition, 1920, published by The Conard & Jones Co.

In a lovely garden filled with fair and blooming flowers stood a beautiful rose tree.[1] It was the centre of attraction and won the admiration of every eye; its beauteous flowers were sought to adorn the bridal wreath and deck the funeral bier. It was a thing of joy and beauty, and its earth mission was a blessing. Kind hands plucked its flowers to gladden the chamber of sickness and adorn the prisoner’s lonely cell. Young girls wore them ’mid their clustering curls, and grave brows relaxed when they gazed upon their wondrous beauty.—Now the rose was very kind and generous hearted, and seeing how much joy she dispensed wished that every flower could only be a rose and like herself have the privilege of giving joy to the children of men; and while she thus mused a bright and lovely spirit approached her and said, “I know thy wishes and will grant thy desires.—Thou shall have power to change every flower in the garden to thine own likeness. When the soft winds come wooing thy fairest buds and flowers, thou shalt breathe gently on thy sister plants, and beneath thy influence they shall change to beautiful roses.” The rose tree bowed her head in silent gratitude to the gentle being who had granted her this wondrous power. All night the stars bent over her from their holy homes above, but she scarcely heeded their vigils. The gentle dews nestled in her arms and kissed the cheeks of her daughters; but she hardly noticed them;—she was waiting for the soft airs to awaken and seek her charming abode. At length the gentle airs greeted her and she hailed them with a joyous welcome, and then commenced her work of change. The first object that met her vision was a tulip superbly arrayed in scarlet and gold. When she was aware of the intention

Ellen T. Fisher. Tulips. Color Chromolithograph, ca. 1861-1897, Boston Public Library. Public Domain.

of her neighbor her cheeks flamed with anger, her eyes flashed indignantly, and she haughtily refused to change her proud robes for the garb the rose tree had prepared for her, but she could not resist the spell that was upon her. And she passively permitted the garments of the rose to enfold her yielding limbs.—The verbenas saw the change that had fallen upon the tulip, and dreading that a similar fate awaited them crept closely to the ground, and while tears gathered in their eyes, they felt a change pass through their sensitive frames, and instead of gentle verbenas they were blushing roses. She breathed upon the sleepy poppies; a deeper slumber fell upon their senses, and when they awoke, they too had changed to bright and beautiful roses. The heliotrope read her fate in the lot of her sisters, and bowing her fair head in silent sorrow, gracefully submitted to her unwelcome destiny. The violets, whose mission was to herald the approach, were averse to losing their individuality. Surely, said they, we have a mission as well as the rose;

Ellen T. Fisher. Poppies No. 3. Color Chromolithograph, c. 1886, Boston Public Library. Public Domain

but with heavy hearts they saw themselves changed like their sister plants. The snow drop drew around her her robes of virgin white; she would not willingly exchange them for the most brilliant attire that ever decked a flower’s form; to her they were the emblems of purity and innocence; but the rose tree breathed upon her, and with a bitter sob she reluctantly consented to the change. The dahlias lifted their heads proudly and defiantly; they dreaded the change but scorned submission; they loved the fading year, and wished to spread around his dying couch their brightest, fairest flowers; but vainly they struggled, the doom was upon them, and they could not escape. A modest lily that grew near the rose tree shrank instinctively from her; but it was in vain, and with tearful eyes and trembling lips she yielded, while a quiver of agony convulsed her frame. The marygolds sighed submissively and made no remonstrance. The garden pinks grew careless and submitted without a murmur; while other flowers less fragrant or less

Auguste Schmidt. Floral Arrangement with Violets. Color chromolithograph, ca. 1861-1897, Boston Public Library. Public Domain.

fair paled with sorrow or reddened with anger, but the spell of the rose tree was upon them and every flower was changed by her power, and that once beautiful garden was overrun with roses; it had become a perfect wilderness of roses; the garden had changed, but that variety which had lent it so much beauty was gone, and men grew tired of the roses, for they were everywhere. The smallest violet peeping faintly from its bed would have been welcome, the humblest primrose would have been hailed with delight;—even a dandelion would have been a harbinger of joy, and when the rose saw that the children of men were dissatisfied with the change

Ellen T. Fisher. Marigolds. Color chromolithograph, ca. 1861-1897, Boston Public Library. Public Domain.

she had made, her heart grew sad within her, and she wished the power had never been given her to change her sister plants to roses, and tears come into her eyes as she mused, when suddenly a rough wind shook her drooping form and she opened her eyes and found that she had only been dreaming. But an important lessons had been taught; she had learned to respect the individuality of her sister flowers and began to see that they, as well as herself, had their own missions,—some to gladden the eye with their loveliness and thrill the soul with delight; some to transmit fragrance to the air; others to breathe a refining influence upon the world; some had power to lull the aching brow and soothe the weary heart and brain into forgetfulness, and of those whose mission she did not understand she wisely concluded there must be some object in their creation, and resolved to be true to her own earth mission and lay her fairest buds and flowers upon the altars of love and truth.

WATKINS, FRANCES E. “THE MISSION OF THE FLOWERS.” REPOSITORY OF RELIGION AND LITERATURE, AND OF SCIENCE AND ART’S VOL. III, NO. 1 (JANUARY 1860): 26-8.

[1] A Tree Rose or Rose Standard is not a rose variety, but the result of grafting a regular rose plant onto a trunk to achieve the appearance of a tree.

Verbena (Verbena chamaedrifolia), from the Flowers series for Old Judge Cigarettes. Commercial color lithograph, 1890, printed by George S. Harris & Sons, Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Heliotrope (Heliotropium Peruvianum), from the Flowers series for Old Judge Cigarettes. Commercial color lithograph, 1890, printed by George S. Harris & Sons, Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Snowdrop (Galanthus Nivalis), from the Flowers series for Old Judge Cigarettes. Commercial color lithograph, 1890, printed by George S. Harris & Sons, Metropolitan Museum of Art. Public Domain.
Lily of the Valley (Convallaria Majalis), from the Flowers series for Old Judge Cigarettes. Commercial color lithograph, 1890, printed by George S. Harris & Sons, Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Dahlia (Dahlia Coccinea), from the Flowers series for Old Judge Cigarettes. Commercial color lithograph, 1890, printed by George S. Harris & Sons, Metropolitan Museum of Art. Public Domain.
Pinks (Dianthus Caryophyllus), from the Flowers series for Old Judge Cigarettes. Commercial color lithograph, 1890, printed by George S. Harris & Sons, Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Primrose (Primula Vulgaris), from the Flowers series for Old Judge Cigarettes. Commercial color lithograph, 1890, printed by George S. Harris & Sons, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Contexts

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper (1825-1911) was an African American public speaker, poet, teacher, and social activist. As a public intellectual, she advocated for antislavery, education, and temperance. Her short story “The Two Offers,” which appeared in 1859 in consecutive issues of The Anglo-African Magazine, is the first short story published by an African American writer in the United States.

The Repository of Religion and Literature, and of Science and Arts was a short-lived (1858-63) quarterly for Black children published by a group of African Methodist Episcopal (AME) societies.

Definitions from Oxford English Dictionary:

emblem: A picture of an object (or the object itself) serving as a symbolical representation of an abstract quality, an action, state of things, class of persons, etc.

beauteous: Highly pleasing to the senses, esp. the sight; beautiful; (also, in recent use) sensuously alluring, voluptuous. Chiefly literary.

bier: The movable stand on which a corpse, whether in a coffin or not, is placed before burial; that on which it is carried to the grave.

vigil: An occasion or period of keeping awake for some special reason or purpose; a watch kept during the natural time for sleep.

Resources for Further Study
  • Tabitha Lowery’s scholarly essay “‘Thank God for Little Children’: The Reception History of Frances E. W. Harper’s Children’s Poetry,” included in volume 67, number 2, of ESQ: A Journal of Nineteenth-Century American Literature and Culture (2021).
  • The house where Frances Ellen Watkins Harper lived in Philadelphia, PA, from 1870 until 1911 is a National Historic Landmark.
  • Ian Zack’s article “Overlooked No More: Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Poet and Suffragist,” appeared on February 7th, 2023 in The New York Times.
Contemporary Connections

“How to Increase Biodiversity in Your Backyard and Garden,” from the Dogwood Alliance’s website.

Categories
1910s African American Fable Folktale Short Story Wild animals

The Hare and the Tortoise

The Hare and the Tortoise

By Anonymous
Annotations by Rene Marzuk
John T. Bowen. Texian Hare. Hand-colored lithograph on wove paper, 1848, Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, The Bayou Bend Collection, gift of Mr. and Mrs. Robert D. Jameson. Public domain.

(Original byline: A Negro fairy Folk-Tale From Uganda. Selected by M. N. Work.)[1]

The hare and the tortoise were great friends. One day they decided to search for food. They went to an ant hill and dug a hole in it so as to trap the ants. The next day, as the time drew near for them to visit the hole, the hare said, “Why should an old fool like the tortoise share this feast with me? I can easily outwit him.” So he told his friends to wait in a quiet place for the tortoise and when he came by to seize him and carry him into the tall grass through which he would have great difficulty in pushing his way. His friends did as he requested. They waited and as the tortoise came by they caught him and carried him into the tall grass. In the meantime the hare ate all the ants he wanted and scampered off home.

The tortoise, after a long struggle, managed to get out of the grass. Tired and vexed he made his way to the ant hill, but found no food. He saw there, however, the footprints of the hare, and as it flashed upon him that he had been outwitted, he became angry and said, “Never mind, my cunning friend, I will get even with you for this.”

When he reached home the hare rushed out to meet him and said. “How thankful I am to see you safe. I feared you were killed. I only escaped myself by the merest chance. Three spears just missed me. We must never go back to that ant hill.”

“Have no fear”, said the tortoise. “Our enemies are not likely to come to the same spot again. It will be quite safe for us to go there another day.”

The tortoise, knowing that the selfish hare would sneak off alone to feast on the ants, arranged with his friends to catch the hare when he was busy eating. “Wait for him”, said the tortoise, “and when he has his head deep in the hole pounce upon him, but,” he added, “do not kill him.”

“Oh” said the friends, “we like hare’s meat; we want to eat him.”

“Very well”, said the tortoise, “but if you kill him quickly he will be tough. You must take him home, then make a pot ready half filled with fine oil and salt. Put the hare in the pot leaving a hole in the cover so that you may add cold water from time to time, for if you let the oil get hot you will completely spoil the hare. Be very careful, therefore, not to let it boil.”

The friends did exactly as they were told. They trapped the hare and carried him home. Then they put him in a pot with the best of oil, the proper amount of salt and placed the pot on the fire. Water was added occasionally through the hole made in the cover. After some hours, when all was thought to be ready, the friends, having washed their hands and nicely laid out the dishes, seated themselves expectantly. The pot was placed in their midst and the cover was withdrawn when hoy! presto! out jumped the hare, and to their horror, ran away. As he rushed into his house he found his comrade waiting.

“Dear me” said the tortoise, “Where have you been?”

“Alas! said the hare, “I have been in great danger. I nearly lost my life. I’ve been caught and cooked. It was only by a miracle that I escaped.”

As he said this he began to lick himself. The tortoise, noticing that a look of pleasure rapidly succeeded that of fright, went across to him and also began to lick.

“How delicious”, said he.

“Get away”, said the greedy hare. “You have not been in the pot or through all the trials I’ve been through. Keep off.”

The tortoise, feeling that his cunning had supplied the oil and salt, began to get angry.

“Let me have your shoulder and left side to lick?”

“I will not”, said the hare, more and more enjoying himself.

The tortoise, in great fury, left the house. He had not gone far before he met his angry friends coming to meet him

“What do you mean”? they asked.

“Through your advice we have lost not only the hare, but also our fine oil and salt. When we uncovered the pot the hare jumped out and ran off with the oil and salt all clinging to him.”

The tortoise, in his rage, lost every feeling of friendship for the hare and said, “I will tell you what to do. You arrange a dance and invite the hare and when he is dancing to your tom-tom seize him and this time kill him.”

The dance was arranged. The hare was invited and came. While he was dancing the friends suddenly seized him. To make sure that he would not escape this time they killed him, skinned him and cut him up.

Thus the hare, and because for once, was outwitted of his greediness, miserably perished.

John Anderson (Scottish naturalist). Burmese Roofed Turtle. Hand-painted illustration, 1873, University of St Andrews, Scotland. Public domain.
 “THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE.” THE CRISIS’ VOL. 12, NO. 6 (OCTOBER 1916): 271-72.

[1] In October of 1912, The Crisis published a nearly identical version of this short story: “Mr. Hare: A Story for Children.” The ending of the current version, selected by Monroe Nathan Work and published four years later in the same magazine, during World War I, is significantly less coddling than that of the 1912 version. While the 1916 hare dies, the one from 1912 survives the tortoise’s revenge. 

Contexts

Starting in 1912, the October issues of The Crisis, the official magazine of the NAACP, were dedicated to children. A typical edition of these children’s numbers would contain a special editorial piece and two or three literary works specifically for children, while still including the serious pieces about contemporary issues with a focus on race that The Crisis was known for. These October numbers were sprinkled with children’s photographs sent in by the readers.

In his first editorial for the Children’s number in 1912, W. E. B. Du Bois wrote that “there is a sense in which all numbers and all words of a magazine of ideas myst point to the child—to that vast immortality and wide sweep and infinite possibility which the child represents.”

The success of The Crisis’ children’s number led to the standalone The Brownies’ Book, a monthly magazine for African American children that circulated from January 1920 to December 1921 under the editorship of Du Bois, Augustus Granville Dill, and Jessie Fauset.

Categories
1910s Fable Folktale Wild animals

The Bird and the Elephant

The Bird and the Elephant

By Anonymous
Annotations by Rene Marzuk
A Landscape in Uganda. Original Sir Harry H. Johnston’s painting for The Uganda Protectorate (1902), p. 106. Public domain.

(Original byline: Stories Collected by Sir Harry H. Johnston in his “Uganda Protectorate.”) [1]

Just as the season for sowing grain was drawing near, the bird and the elephant met, and became involved in an argument as to who had the bigger voice. The dispute getting heated, they decided to lay the question before the big assembly. “We have come,” piped the little bird, “to have the question settled as to who has the bigger voice, my friend the elephant or myself?” “Yes,” grunted the elephant, “this insignificant little thing has the impudence to say his little squeak is more powerful than my trumpeting.” “Well,” said the lit­tle bird, “our homes are two hours away. Do you think that, if you bawled your loudest, your people would hear you call from here?” “Of course,” sneered the elephant; “but what do you think you are going to do, you puny little thing?” “Now, don’t get angry,” chirped the bird. “Tomorrow morning we will meet at dawn, and both call to our friends to have our dinner ready; but, as you sneered at me, we will make the stakes ten cows, to be paid by the loser to the winner.” “Right you are!” chuckled the elephant. “I want some more cattle. Good-bye, you little fool!” and went off laughing. The bet was confirmed by the “baraza.” The cunning bird at once made arrangements. He got his mates to perch within hearing distance of each other along the line to his house. “Now we will see,” said he, “how wit can triumph over brute force.” At dawn the next morning they met as agreed. The elephant was given “first try,” and bawled four times in his loudest voice. “Have you quite done?” chirped the little bird. “Yes,” sneered the elephant; “squeak away.” The little bird gave his orders, and they tramped off together. They decided that the elephant being the bigger, they would visit his home first. As they drew near, the elephant became uneasy at the quiet that reigned, and was extremely angry to find not a soul about. One was away getting food, another drawing water, another gathering firewood, and the rest, not expecting anything to occur, were also out. “Now,” said the bird, “we will try my luck.” As they approached they heard great sounds of bustling; the pathways were clean, the courtyard swept, the bird’s friends were all neatly arranged in lines to do honor to the guest; mats were laid down in the house, and an abundant feast was prepared. “Ah, my friend,” piped the little bird, “do not be down-hearted. Be thankful you have learnt at so small a cost not to despise a rival, however small he may be. So now let us ‘eat, drink, and be merry.’” Next day the elephant handed over the cattle to the bird.

Giovanni Antonio Guardi (1699-1760). Elephant. Oil on canvas, n.d., Wikimedia Commons. Public domain.
“THE BIRD AND THE ELEPHANT” THE CRISIS’ VOL. 16, NO. 6 (OCTOBER 1918): 271-72.

[1] Uganda was a Protectorate of the British Empire from 1894 to 1962. Sir Henry Hamilton Johnston (1858-1927), also known as Harry Johnston, worked as a colonial administrator of the Uganda Protectorate from 1899 to 1901. Johnston was also an explorer, botanist, zoologist and artist. His book The Uganda Protectorate was first published in 1902.  

Contexts

Starting in 1912, the October issues of The Crisis, the official magazine of the NAACP, were dedicated to children. A typical edition of these children’s numbers would contain a special editorial piece and two or three literary works specifically for children, while still including the serious pieces about contemporary issues with a focus on race that The Crisis was known for. These October numbers were sprinkled with children’s photographs sent in by the readers.

In his first editorial for the Children’s number in 1912, W. E. B. Du Bois wrote that “there is a sense in which all numbers and all words of a magazine of ideas myst point to the child—to that vast immortality and wide sweep and infinite possibility which the child represents.”

The success of The Crisis’ children’s number led to the standalone The Brownies’ Book, a monthly magazine for African American children that circulated from January 1920 to December 1921 under the editorship of Du Bois, Augustus Granville Dill, and Jessie Fauset.

Definitions from Oxford English Dictionary:

baraza: (East African) A meeting, assembly, or council. In early use also: a reception room.

Contemporary Connections

Elephant poaching due to elephant ivory demand is a major environmental concern in Africa.

The Kataara Women’s Poverty Alleviation Group (KWPAG), a small community project in Uganda, promotes the creation of crafts with paper made out of elephant dung. This project seeks to combat elephant poaching, which “during the political turmoil of the 1970s and 1980s . . . decimated the elephant population in Uganda . . . from an estimated 30,000 elephants to less than 800.”

Video on how poachers threaten the survival of the African elephant.

Categories
1910s African American Fable Folktale Myth

How the Spider Won and Lost Nzambi’s Daughter

How the Spider Won and Lost Nzambi’s Daughter

By Anonymous
Annotations by Rene Marzuk
Ward, Herbert. A Bakongo Girl. Bronze sculpture, 1901, Smithsonian’s Museum of Natural History.

Nzambi, the goddess who dwelt upon earth, had a beautiful daughter. Nzambi vowed that no earthly being should marry her daughter un­less he first brought the heavenly fire from Nzambi Mpungu, who dwelt in the heavens above the blue roof.[1] Now, the daughter was very beautiful and the people marveled saying, “How shall we secure this treasure, and who on such conditions will ever marry her?”

Then the spider said, “I will win Nzambi’s daughter if you will help me.” And they all answered, “We will gladly help you if you will reward us.” The spider than began to travel upward until he reached the blue roof of heaven. He then dropped down again to the earth, leaving a strong silken thread firmly hanging from the roof to the earth below. He now called the tortoise, the woodpecker, the rat and the sand-fly and bade them climb up the thread to the roof.[2] They did so. Then the wood­ pecker pecked a hole through the blue roof and they all entered the realm of Nzambi Mpungu, the god of the heavens.

Nzambi Mpungu received them court­eously and asked them what they want­ed. They answered him saying, “Oh, Nzambi Mpungu, of the heavens above, great father of all the world, we have come to fetch some of your terrible fire for Nzambi, who rules upon earth.”

“Wait here, then,” said Mpungu, “while I go to my people and tell them of the message you bring.”

But the sand-fly, unseen, accompanied Mpungu and heard all that he said. The Mpungu returned to the visitors and said, “My friends, how can I know that you have really come from the ruler of the earth and that you are not imposters?”

“Put us to some test,” they said, “that we may prove our sincerity to you.”

“I will,” said Mpungu. “Go down to your earth and bring me a bundle of bamboos that I may make myself a shed.”

And the tortoise went down and soon returned with the bamboos.

Then Mpungu said to the rat, “Get thee beneath this bundle of bamboos and I will set fire to it; then if you escape, I shall surely know that Nzambi sent you.”

The rat did as he was bidden. Mpun­gu set fire to the bamboos, and lo, when they were entirely consumed, the rat came forth from amidst the ashes un­harmed.

“You are, indeed,” said Mpungu, “what you represent yourselves to be. I will go and consult my people again.”

The sand-fly was again sent after Mpungu and bidden to keep well out of sight, to hear all that was said, and, if possible, to find out where the fire, that is the lightning, was kept. He soon came back and related all that he had heard and seen.

Then Mpungu returned to them and said, “Yes, I will give you the fire you ask for if you will tell me where it is kept.”

And the spider said, “Give me then, O, Nzambi Mpungu, one of the five cases that you keep in the fowl house.”

“Truly,” said Mpungu. “You have answered me correctly, O spider. Take therefore, this case and give it to Nzambi, who rules upon earth.”

The tortoise carried it down to the earth and the spider presented the fire from heaven to Nzambi and Nzambi gave the spider her beautiful daughter in marriage.

But the woodpecker grumbled and said, “Surely the woman is mine, for it was I who pecked the hole through the blue roof, without which the others could never have entered the kingdom of Nzambi Mpungu.”

“Yes,” said the rat, “but see how I risked my life among the burning bamboos. The girl, I think, should be mine.”

“Nay, O, Nzambi,” said the sand-fly, “the girl should certainly be mine, for without my help the others would never have found out where the fire was kept.”

Then Nzambi said, “Nay, the spider undertook to bring me the fire and has brought it. The girl by right is his, but as you will make her life miserable if I allow her to live with the spider and as I cannot give her to all of you, I will give her to none, but instead I will give each of you her market value.”

Nzambi then paid each of them fifty bolts of cloth and a cask of gin, but the daughter ever after remained unmarried and waited on her mother.

 “HOW THE SPIDER WON AND LOST NZAMBI’S DAUGHTER.” THE CRISIS’ VOL. 10, NO. 6 (OCTOBER 1915): 301-02.

[1] This story sems to come directly from Kongo mythology. The Kingdom of Kongo was a large kingdom in western central Africa. In Kongo lore, Nzambi Mpungu is the father god who lives in the heavens and protects the secret of fire. Upon creating the earth, Nzambi Mpungu sends Nzambi there, who becomes princess of the earth. Eventually, Nzambi Mpungo comes down to earth and marries Nzambi, his own creation.

[2] Sand flies are small golden, brownish, or gray flies. The females feed on blood. These insects transmit several diseases like the pappataci fever virus, kala azar, Oriental sore, espundia, and bartonellosis.

Contexts

Starting in 1912, the October issues of The Crisis, the official magazine of the NAACP, were dedicated to children. A typical edition of these children’s numbers would contain a special editorial piece and two or three literary works specifically for children, while still including the serious pieces about contemporary issues with a focus on race that The Crisis was known for. These October numbers were sprinkled with children’s photographs sent in by the readers.

In his first editorial for the Children’s number in 1912, W. E. B. Du Bois wrote that “there is a sense in which all numbers and all words of a magazine of ideas myst point to the child—to that vast immortality and wide sweep and infinite possibility which the child represents.”

The success of The Crisis’ children’s number led to the standalone The Brownies’ Book, a monthly magazine for African American children that circulated from January 1920 to December 1921 under the editorship of Du Bois, Augustus Granville Dill, and Jessie Fauset.

Definitions from Oxford English Dictionary:

bolt: A roll of woven fabric: generally of a definite length; being, in various cases, 30 yards, 28 ells, or 40 feet.

Resources for Further Study
  • Under the title “How the Spider Won and Lost Nzambi’s Daughter,” the editors from The Crisis added the following text: “A Negro Folk Tale After Dennet; from the collection by M. N. Work.”
    Dennet refers to Richard Edward Dennett (1857-1921), a Chilean-born English trader who later in his life wrote influential sociological and anthropological research on West African cultures. His book Notes on the Folklore of the Fjort (1898) contains more than 30 traditional stories from the French Congo.
    M.N. (Monroe Nathan) Work (1866-1945) was an African-American sociologist who founded the Department of Records and Research at the Booker T. Washington’s Tuskegee Institute.
  • Bayeck, Rebecca. “Unsung History of the Kingdom of Kongo.”

Categories
1880s Fable Insects Native American Poem

The Conceited Grasshopper

The Conceited Grasshopper

By Anonymous
Annotations by Karen Kilcup
Detail of oil painting of insects. Jan van Kessel the elder, 17th century. Public domain.
There was a little grasshopper
	Forever on the jump;
And as he never looked ahead
	He often got a bump.

His mother said to him one day
	As they were in the stubble,
“If you don’t look before you leap,
	You’ll get yourself in trouble.”

The silly little grasshopper 
	Despised his wise old mother,
And said he knew what best to so,
	And told her not to bother.

He hurried off across the fields,
	An unknown path he took,
When oh! he gave a heedless jump,
	And landed in a brook.

He struggled hard to reach the bank,
	A floating straw he seizes,
When quickly a hungry trout drops out,
	And tears him all to pieces.

MORAL. Good little boys and girls, heed well
	Your mother’s wise advice;
Before you move, look carefully;
	Before you speak, think twice.
Tulalip Indian Boarding School, 1917. Courtesy Aurelia Celestine.
Anonymous. “The Conceited Grasshopper.” The Youth’s Companion 3, no. 1 (August 1881): 57.

Contexts

Begun in 1881, The Youth’s Companion—a name that many nineteenth-century publications shared—was a monthly student magazine that published articles written by pupils of the Catholic-run boarding school located on the Tulalip Indian Reservation. A federally recognized tribe located in the mid-Puget Sound area, the Tulalip Tribes received reservation lands—22,000 acres—in 1855, with its legal boundaries established by President Ulysses S. Grant in 1873. According to the tribe’s website, “it was created to provide a permanent home for the Snohomish, Snoqualmie, Skagit, Suiattle, Samish, and Stillaguamish Tribes and allied bands living in the region.

Nineteenth-century Indian boarding schools aimed to assimilate Native Americans into white culture. They separated children from their families, required students to dress like white Americans, and prohibited them from speaking their language. They also emphasized so-called “industrial” training: boys learned agricultural and industrial skills, while girls learned how to cook, sew, and clean a household. Students were often expected to become servants or to provide manual labor help for whites.

Like many contributions to Native American newspapers, this poem was published anonymously. Students living on reservations during this time often received educations governed by white religious authorities who emphasized moral training. This poem suggests the kind of didactic texts students were expected to compose.

Resources for Further Study
Contemporary Connections

“Tulalip History Minute 04—The Tulalip Indian School presented by Mary Jane Topash,” the Tulalip History Project. Provides Tulalip-sponsored background on the tribe.

“Editorial: Getting to the truth of Tulalip boarding school,” September 26, 2021, HeraldNet (Everett, Washington). Caution: includes information about abuses at the school.

Categories
1830s Essay Fable

The Wonders of the Ocean

The Wonders of the Ocean

By Anonymous
Annotations by Kristina Bowers
“Ocean Life” by James M. Sommerville, 1859, Watercolor, gouache, graphite, and gum arabic on off-white wove paper. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Erving Wolf, in memory of Diane R. Wolf, 1977. Public Domain.

COLLECTED AND ARRANGED FROM AUTHENTIC SOURCES.

[Continued.]

In general the bed of the ocean is tolerably level, but sometimes in the midst of the furious waves, an island raises its head and braves their utmost force. Such islands may be considered as the mountains of the sea. In fact, the surface of the earth below the sea is evidently similar to that above it; here rising into mountains, the summits of which may be called islands and continents, and sinking into vallies[sic]. 

The bottom of the ocean, wherever opportunities of examining it have occurred, is found to resemble the dry land in materials as well as in features; if it is dug to any considerable depth, rock is uniformly met with as in the land. The strata, are similar, and supposed in the same manner, and springs of fresh water, so voluminous as to displace the current of the salt, for a considerable distance, issue from the bed of the sea; neither are there wanting to complete the resemblance, volcanoes, which vomit forth their perpetual fires. 

The earth, therefore, whether dry or covered with water, forms but one whole; the surface of the water being to that of the land as three to one.[1] 

This account of the ocean, its properties, movements, and effects, may be appropriately concluded with the extraordinary history of a Sicilian diver, which is related on the authority of Kircher,[2] and some other ancient authors, but it has so much the air of a fable that it is difficult to determine on the exact degree of credit which it merits. 

Nicola pesce[3] lived in the reign of Frederick, king of Sicily, and obtained his surname from his amazing skill in swimming, and his ability to remain under water for an astonishing length of time. He earned a poor subsistence by diving for corals and oysters; and his long familiarity with the sea made him regard it almost as his natural element. He frequently spent five days at a time in the midst of the waves, with no other provision for his sustenance than raw fish. He often swam from Sicily to Calabria,[4] a tempestuous and dangerous passage, being employed to carry letters of importance. Some mariners at sea one day observed an object at a distance, which they imagined to be a sea monster, but on approaching nearer, they discovered it to be Nicola who was bound on one of his expeditions. They took him with them into their ship, and enquired[sic] whither[5] he was going in so rough and stormy a sea, and at such a distance from land; he showed them a packet of letters, fastened up in a leather bag, which he was carrying to one of the towns of Italy. He remained with them for some time; and after eating, and refreshing himself, he took his leave, and jumped into the sea, to pursue his strange voyage. Nature seemed to have prepared him in a very singular manner for these aquatic expeditions, for the spaces between his toes and fingers were webbed, like the feet of a goose, and his chest became so very capacious,[6] that he could take in at one inspiration, as much breath as would serve him for a whole day.

The account of so extraordinary a person, soon reached the ears of the king; who actuated by a strong curiosity, not unmixed with incredulity, ordered Nicola to be brought before him. It was no easy matter to find an amphibious animal who spent the greater part of his time, in the watery deserts; but at length, after much research, he was discovered and presented to the monarch. The king had conceived a strong desire to gain some knowledge of the bottom of the Gulf of Charybdis;[7] and he gladly availed himself of so unlooked for an opportunity of gratifying it, and disregarding entirely, in his eagerness to obtain the fulfilment[sic] of his wishes, the imminent risk to the life of a fellow-creature, he commanded the poor diver to examine the dreadful whirlpool. To stimulate his efforts he commanded a golden cup to be thrown in and promised that it should be the prize of his success. The poor fisherman was not insensible to the dangers of the enterprize[sic], and ventured to remonstrate[8] against undertaking it; but at last the hope of reward, the desire of pleasing the king, and above all the pride of showing his skill, prevailed, and he consented. He leaped into the gulf, and was instantaneously swallowed up in its abyss.

He continued under water for three quarters of an hour, and re-appeared on the surface, holding the cup triumphantly in one hand, and the other buffetting[sic] the waves. He was received with universal applause, and the golden goblet was his reward. When he was in some measure recovered from his fatigue, which had been excessive he gave an account of what he had seen. According to his statement, four circumstances rendered this gulf terrible, not only to men but even to fish; the force of the water bursting upwards from the bottom; the steepness of the surrounding rocks; the violence of the whirlpool dashing against those rocks; and the vast number of polypus,[9] some as large as a man, adhering to them, and projecting their fibrous arms to entangle every thing that came within their reach.

The curiosity of the king being still unsatisfied, he desired him to descend again into the tremendous gulf. At first he refused compliance with this inhuman mandate; but being earnestly requested, and tempted by the promise of a much more valuable reward, than that bestowed on him before, the unfortunate man plunged again into the whirlpool, and never was heard of more.—Ed.

Anonymous. “The Wonders of the Ocean.” Youth’s Literary Messenger. 1, No. 9 (January 1838): 306-312.

[1] This is accurate, approximately 71% of the Earth’s surface is water.

[2] Athanasius Kircher was a 17th century Jesuit Priest and a prolific scientific thinker and writer.

[3] “Pesce” is the Italian word for “fish.” (Cambridge Dictionary)

[4] This distance equals roughly 173 miles.

[5] Whither: To what place, where. (Merriam-Webster)

[6] Capacious: Containing a great deal.

[7] The Gulf of Charybdis probably refers to the Strait of Messina between Sicily and the “toe” of the boot-shaped Italy. In Greek mythology, Charybdis was a sea monster that represented whirlpools.

[8] Remonstrate: To plead in protest or opposition. (Merriam-Webster)

[9] Polypus is an archaic spelling of “polyps” which are types of coral or sea anemones. (Merriam-Webster)

Resources for Further Study
Categories
1870s Fable

The Discontented Rose

The Discontented Rose

By Mildred Bentley
Annotations by Kristina Bowers
Hegeman, Annie May. Embroidered cushion cover of a rose wreath designed by William Morris. n.d. Cotton, mercerized cotton, Technique: plain weave embroidered with running (darning), stem, couching stitches, laid work over surface satin, Smithsonian Design Museum Collection, Gift of Annie May Hegeman, late 19th century. CCO.

There was once a little wild rose that was taken away from her country home to live with her city cousins. The Sweet Briar[1] family, you must know, were the highest aristocracy of all the country side. For more than a hundred generations, they had been lords of the soil, holding their real estate with their own armed retainers.[2] So, though quiet and unpretending, they were a proud and unapproachable old family. 

When the city gardener came one day to take away the little, wild rose, Madam Sweet Briar received him with dignity, nodded and waved to him in a polite manner, sighed a sweet, little sigh, and smiled a rosy smile, and hoped he would treat her daughter tenderly. And as she said it, she slily gave him an ugly scratch, as a warning of what he might expect from the family, unless its members were treated with consideration, so the gardener took up the wild rose with the greatest tenderness and care, and bore her away. The tall ferns waved a gracious adieu, the clover blossoms bobbed homely, little courtesies to her, the hummingbird kissed her, the bumblebee buzzed about her and said he should come to see her in her new home very soon, and her mother, Madam Sweet Briar, wept and sighed and blessed her. 

Away and away, over miles of dusty road, the little, lonely rose was carried. She began to faint and droop long before the journey was done, but the gardener placed her gently in the shade, and bathed her in cold water. So after awhile she grew strong and brave, and held up her head and took heart. 

It was a fine place where she lived now, fine, but lonely. She missed the green, waving ferns, the clover blossoms, and the old rail fence she used to rest on. She had a pretty, painted lattice, now, but she did not take to it kindly for many days. But there were some brave, little roots working away at her feet; their active little mouths drew from old mother earth nourishing, strengthening food, and the falling rain soothed her, and the sun warmed her, and so she got over her homesickness, and grew well and strong and happy; and when the time for blossoms came, a beautiful, little, pink flower came timidly forth and crowned the rose. 

A proud and happy rose was she that day. The gardener noticed her and praised her, and all the world looked beautiful. But there were other roses in the garden, whose cultivation had made them proud and vain. 

“I wonder if she calls that a rose? the little, countrified thing!” said Madam Hundredleaf,[3] drawing herself up in pride, and bustling with spiteful thorns, as she said it. 

“It looks like a dwarf apple blossom,” returned Madam Velvet Rose.[4] “Only five petals—and such a faint color! I wonder she has the impudence to hold her head up in our presence.”

“I am sure I think she is pretty,” said Mrs. White Rose,[5] who was a bride, and a very sweet, young creature. “Indeed, I have heard that our grandmothers were all like her, and it is only because we have been treated so kindly that we are any different.”

“For my part,” returned Mrs. Hundredleaf, “I never have believed that story about the low origin of the Rose family. Some spiteful gossip invented the whole story, I have no doubt.”

“That has always been my opinion,” said Mrs. Velvet, proudly. “But it is a shame and a disgrace to have that little, plain, countrified thing claim relation to us. It will only start the old story again.”

“That is true enough,” broke in Mrs. Damask Rose,[6] getting quite red in the face. “I am vexed at the little upstart. I could scratch her well if she was within reach.”

“Please don’t talk so loud,” pleaded the gentle, White Rose. “Please don’t; the poor, little thing will hear you, and she is lonesome and timid already.”

The caution had come too late. The poor, little wild rose had heard all the unkind words, and the world was beautiful no more. She looked down upon the little blossom that had seemed so lovely, but it appeared poor and small and pale; the wind passed over it, and the little pink petals fluttered to the earth; the merry, little buds wrapped their green coats tight about them, and hope and joy died in their hearts. 

So they all hid their pretty faces in their green jackets and cried bitterly. 

“We don’t ever want to be little, homely roses; make us larger, fuller, sweeter, and brighter. Oh dear! Oh dear!”

The poor, little wild rose was wilder than ever. When she heard the cry of the buds, she had not the least idea how to change the little plain flowers. Should she flounce them or crimp[7] them, or ruffle or scallup [sic][8] them? Should she put two or three together and make one large one? What could she do? She asked the sun, the rain, the earth, the wind. But no one could help her. The sun could paint them. 

“Nothing but the regular tints, ma’am,” he said. “That is all I can possibly do for you. I’ve a vast deal of work, and can’t undertake any extras!” And away he glanced and danced. 

“Dear me, don’t ask me,” said the wind. “I am so fidgety and nervous, I should die if I stood long in one place. I can’t be of any service to you, unless you need change of air.” And away he flew. 

The rain could not help her, either. 

“Sorry for you, if you are in trouble,” he cried; “but I can’t tell you anything about your ruffling and fussing. Just keep cool, keep cool—that’s always my advice—keep cool, I say, and soak your feet well.” And away he splashed and dashed. 

“Oh dear! Oh dear!” moaned the little wild rose, wringing her hands till they bled from the scratches. “No one will help me! what shall I do?”

Then old mother earth made answer. 

“Be your own sweet, simple self. Be true and natural, and you will be beautiful.”

But all in vain the wise mother spoke, all in vain the thirsty mouths sent the rich juices coursing through her veins. Her heart was dizzy and sick, and one by one the discontented buds dropped their heads and died. The wild rose watched them in sorrow. She longed unspeakably for her wildwood home, the waving of the ferns, the nodding of the clovers, the music of the brook, and the song of the birds. 

The city garden blossomed in glory and pride. Lilies and roses and pansies and geraniums all flaunted their bright colors on the air. The greenery of June darkened into the deeper hue of midsummer, and flushed and flamed with the fevers of autumn. But the little wild rose was dead—its freshness, sweetness, beauty, life, were gone forever from earth. 

Ah! little wild rose, you are not the only one who has come to dismay and death, by trying to be what you were not made to be.

Bentley, Mildred. “The Discontented Rose.” The Little Corporal: An Illustrated Magazine for Boys and GirlsI. 11, no. 4 (October 1, 1870): 112. 

[1] The Sweet Briar Rose (Rosa rubiginosa), also known as eglantine, is native to Western Asia and Europe but has been cultivated in N. America (USDA). This rose represents poetry (Ingram, 1869, 110).

[2] Retainer: The act of a client by which the services of a lawyer, counselor, or adviser are engaged. (Merriam-Webster)

[3] The Hundred Leaf Rose (Rosa centifolia), also known as cabbage rose, are named for their ability to bloom with a hundred or more petals. (American Rose Society)

[4] The Velvet Rose could refer to many species of rose including Rosa ‘Brown Velvet’, Rosa ‘Flower Carpet Red Velvet’, Brugmansia ‘Velvet Rose’ or Angel’s Trumpet, and Rosa ‘Tuscany Superb.’

[5] The White Rose (Rosa alba) symbolizes silence according to Ingram (1869, 24).

[6] The Damask Rose (Rosa damascena) is highly fragrant and is used in producing perfume, rose water, and dried petals in potpourri. According to Ingram, “this…species has been held in high esteem for nearly two thousand years” (1869, 23).

[7] Crimp: To pinch or press together. (Merriam-Webster)

[8] Scallop: To shape or cut in a scallop pattern. (Merriam-Webster)

Contexts

Floriography: Floriography, or “the language of flowers,” is the tradition of attaching symbolic meaning to flowers in correspondence or coded messages. [1] Published one year before Bentley’s short story, Flora symbolica; or, The language and sentiment of flowers (1869) by John H. Ingram includes floral symbolism, illustrations, and poetic and literary references to flowers. On the rose, Ingram writes, “There is scarcely a willing tribute to the beauties of the ‘bloom of love’ and a collection comprising one tithe of all the choice things said of it would amply fill a very respectable-sized library'” (1869, 23).

Resources for Further Study
Contemporary Connections

Many florists and flower delivery companies have modern floriography guides to assist customers in sending the right message with their arrrangments. See, for example, “Floriography: The Language of Flowers in the Victorian Era” on ProFlowers.com and an alphabetized list of flowers and their meanings on U.K. flower delivery location site All Florists.

Categories
1860s Fable

The Ant and the Grasshopper

The Ant and the Grasshopper

By Aesop
Annotations by Jessica ABell
The Ant and the Grasshopper from The Fables of Æsop With a Life of the Author. 1865.

In the winter season, a commonwealth of Ants was busily employed in the management and preservation of their corn, which they exposed to the air in heaps round about the avenues of their little country habitation. A Grasshopper, who had chanced to outlive the summer, and was ready to starve with cold and hunger, approached them with great humility, and begged that they would relieve his necessity with one grain of wheat or rye. One of the Ants asked him, how he had disposed of his time in the summer, that he had not take pains, and laid in a stock, as they had done?–“Alas, gentlemen,” says he, “I passed away the time merrily and pleasantly, in drinking, singing, and dancing, and never once thought of winter.”–“If that be the case,” replied the Ant, laughing, “all I have to say is, that they who drink, sing, and dance in the summer, must starve in winter.”

APPLICATION.

As summer is the season of the year in which the industrious and laborious husbandman gathers and lays up such fruits as may supply his necessities in winter, so youth and manhood are the times of life which we should employ and bestow in laying in such stick of all kind of necessaries as may suffice for the craving demands of helpless old age. Yet, not withstanding the truth of this, there are many of those which we call rational creatures, who live in a method quite opposite to it, and make it their business to squander away in profuse prodigality whatever they get in their younger days: as if the infirmity of age would require no supplies to support it; or, at least, would find them administered to it in some miraculous way. From this fable we learn this admirable lesson, never to lose any present opportunity of providing against the future evils and accidents of life. While health and the flower and vigor of our age remain firm and entire, let us lay them out to the best advantage, that, when the latter days take hold of us and spoil us of our strength and abilities, we may have a store moderately sufficient to subsist upon, which we laid up in the morning of our age.

Aesop. The Fables of Æsop with a Life of the Author /. Boston :, c1865., http://hdl.handle.net/2027/chi.18810389.

Contexts

“The Ant and the Grasshopper” is a well-known Aesop fable. Aesop’s fables are tales that often contain lessons to teach the reader. Similar to morals lessons that are often featured in fairy tales.

Resources for Further Study
Pedagogy
  • Lesson Plan for “The Ant and the Grasshopper” for third grade.

Categories
1830s Fable Short Story

The Misfortunes of a Yellow Bird

The Misfortunes of a Yellow Bird

By “C.”
Annotations by Celia Hawley
William Home Lizars. Yellow-Crowned Weaver, Plate 32 from Birds of West Africa.
Print from William Swainson engraving, brush and watercolor on paper, 1837. Cooper
Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum, New York, N.Y.

When I gained the first knowledge I had of my own existence, I found myself resting very comfortably in the hollow of a neat little house, built of divers[1] materials, such as straw, thread, mud, &c., all being very ingeniously worked together, giving the nest the two needful qualities of strength and warmth. To the truth of the former quality I can give full testimony; having employed myself during my long confinement after birth, in the vain attempt of pulling to pieces my rustic abode.

I had several brothers and sisters for my companions. For many days we lay very quietly, and moved only to receive the food which our kind parents brought us. The foliage of the tree in which our nest was built was very thick, and afforded a delightful shelter from the sun, and reflected mild and pleasant light upon our just opening eyes. After a few days our bodies became strangely metamorphosed, and we appeared like new creatures, in our dress of yellow, ornamented with black edgings. I was much surprised at the sudden change, yet pleased; for truly we were rather uncouth looking animals at our first appearance. So happy were we now, with our splendid garb, that we began to chirp and made many awkward attempts to get out of our nest; we at last succeeded in our efforts to gain the edge of it, and felt quite proud at our wonderful achievement; and our parents sung merrily over us. In a few days, these fond parents taught us to spread our wings and fly to the nearest branches of the tree in which we lived; and soon we were able to fly to all the neighboring trees.

Julius Bien. Yellow-Breasted Chat. Chromolithograph on paper, copy
after John James Audubon, 1860. Smithsonian American Art Museum
and its Renwick Gallery, Washington, D.C.

We were perfectly happy; our days were spent in singing, and flying, and feasting ourselves from the newly budded trees around us, and our nights in quiet and undisturbed repose. We dreamed not of the evil that was awaiting us; but it came; and those happy days which I once knew, will I fear never return.

One beautiful morning we had all been amusing ourselves, by hopping from branch to branch, and flying from tree to tree, until we were quite tired, – and had returned to our nests. We had just quietly laid ourselves to rest, and our parents had gone in search of food, when we heard a loud noise beneath the tree, and immediately the bough, on which our home was built, began to shake so violently, that we were every moment in danger of being thrown down. We were all much terrified, but remained in our nest. In that we had ever found a refuge from the storm, from the birds who were our enemies, and from every other danger which had before threatened us. We therefor clung to it now as our only hope. Presently something was thrown over our nest, which left us in perfect darkness; we were almost dead with fright, and our nest was torn rudely from the tree. Then, for the first time, we heard the sound of the human voice; it sounded harsh and stunning to our ears, and only increased our fear. We were carried some distance with great care. We were then uncovered, but where we were I knew not; fright prevented my knowing.

The first thing I was conscious of, was being separated from my dear brothers and sister, and being placed in a very odd thing, which the people round me called a cage. I looked about as soon as I was placed in this, and found myself surrounded by numerous boys, some talking loudly, others screaming until I nearly fainted with fear. My prison house looked so slight and frail, that I imagined by beating it, I might force my way out. So I commenced flying against the sides, until seeing it had no effect, I sunk down exhausted by fright and exertion. Many of the boys thought I was dying, and begged my release; but the cruel boy who stole me from my happy home, would not grant their request.

J. Alden Weir. Children Burying a Bird. Oil on canvas mounted on fiberglass, 1878.
Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, D.C.

For weeks I was kept a prisoner; they treated my kindly — but it was slavery. Oh! how I sighed for my own dear home, for my native woods, with their beautiful shades and the dear music of my woodland loves! Oh, freedom is sweet to the bird, as well as to man! The boys seemed to love me; I could have loved them, had they given me liberty.

Since my captivity there are many kind faces that look at me, as though they wish to set me free; there is one who has often begged for my release, but my hard-hearted master will not grant it. He says he wishes to keep me; and for what wicked purpose think you? What, but, as he says, to lure other birds into his snares! So I have had in my cage a trap fixed, well baited: and it has been my duty to sing, and thus call the birds in to the trap.

One day a cat passed my cage, and the friendly creature, beast though she is, would have opened for me a passage out of my prison, had not the boys, seeing her designs, driven her away. When my imprisonment will end I know not. I live only in the hope that my master’s heart will be softened by my unhappy situation, and that he will set me free. Had I a human voice I would tell him how cruel he is thus to imprison me, and to make my confinement the means of reducing others into the same slavery. And if he would not hear my complaint, I would then appeal to his master, and try to touch his heart with my story, and beg of him to reprove my hard hearted keeper and open the door of my prison, and then might I hope to return to my beautiful home in the tree!

WIlliam Home Lizars. Yellow White-Eye, Plate 3 from Birds of Western Africa. Print from William Swainson engraving, brush and watercolor on paper, 1837. Cooper
Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum, New York, N.Y.
C. “THE MISFORTUNES OF A YELLOW BIRD.” The Juvenile Miscellany 6, no. 3 (JulY 1834): 299.
Contexts

Excerpt from History.com’s U.S. Slavery: Timeline, Figures & Abolition:

“By the 1830’s there were more and more voices joining the anti-slavery cause. In the North, the increased repression of southern Black people only fanned the flames of the growing abolitionist movement. From the 1830s to the 1860s, the movement to abolish slavery in America gained strength, led by free Black people such as Frederick Douglass and white supporters such as William Lloyd Garrison, founder of the radical newspaper The Liberator, and Harriet Beecher Stowe, who published the bestselling anti-slavery novel Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”

Children’s magazines such as The Juvenile Miscellany were vehicles for much of the abolitionist sentiment of the time.

Resources for Further Study
  • The child’s anti-slavery book: containing a few words about American slave children and stories of slave-life by Julia Colman and Matilde G. Thompson has this passage: “Children, you are free and happy. …Thank God! thank God! my children for this precious gift. … But are all children in America free like you? No, no! I am sorry to tell you that hundreds of thousands of American children are slaves. Though born beneath the same sun and on the same soil as yourselves, they are nevertheless SLAVES. Alas for them! … I want you to remember one great truth regarding slavery, namely, that a slave is a human being, held and used as property by another human being, and that it is always A SIN AGAINST God to thus hold and use a human being as property!”
  • Aesop’s Fables: Timeless Stories with a Moral
  • Flocabulary: Video and vocabulary games for the fables of Aesop
Contemporary Connections

We can make a connection between the anonymous 19th-century writer of this piece and a well-known 20th-century one. Maya Angelou chose the same allegorical image, that of a caged bird, for the title of her critically acclaimed 1969 autobiography, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. Angelou was an American poet and author who was the recipient of many honors, among them the 2010 Presidential Medal of Freedom.

[1] diverse

Categories
1860s 1890s 1910s Fable Short Story

The Belly and the Members

The Belly and the Members: A Fable [1]

By Æsop
Annotations by Ian McLaughlin
Wenceslaus Hollar. The Belly and the Members. Engraving from The Fables of Aesop
by John Ogilby, 1665. Fisher Library at the University of Toronto, Toronto, ON, Canada.

The Members of the Body once rebelled against the Belly. “You,” they said to the Belly, “live in luxury and sloth, and never do a stroke of work; while we not only have to do all the hard work there is to be done, but are actually your slaves and have to minister to all your wants. Now, we will do so no longer, and you can shift for yourself for the future.” They were as good as their word, and left the Belly to starve. The result was just what might have been expected: the whole Body soon began to fail, and the Members and all shared in the general collapse. And then they saw too late how foolish they had been.

Original illustration from Aesop’s Fables printed at the Chiswick Press by C. Whittingham, 1814.

In the former days, when the Belly and the other parts of the body enjoyed the faculty of speech, and had separate views and designs of their own, each part, it seems, in particular for himself and in the name of the whole, took exception at the conduct of the Belly, and were resolved to grant him supplies no longer.

They said they thought is very hard that he should lead an idle good-for-nothing life, spending and squandering away, upon his own ungodly guts, all the fruits of their labor; and that, in short, they were resolved, for the future, to strike off his allowance, and let him shift for himself as well as he could. The Hands protested they would not lift up a finger to keep him from starving; and the Mouth wished he might never speak again if he took in the least bit of nourishment for him as long as he lived; and, say the Teeth, may we be rotten if ever we chew a morsel for him for the future. This solemn league and covenant was kept as long as anything of that kind can be kept, which was until each of the rebel members pined away to the skin and bone, and could hold out no longer. Then they found there was no doing without the Belly, and that, as idle and insignificant as he seemed, he contributed as much to the maintenance and welfare of all the other parts as they did to his.

Application

This fable was spoken by Menenius Agrippa, a famous Roman consul and general, when he was deputed by the senate to appease a dangerous tumult and insurrection of the people. The many wars that nation was engaged in, and the frequent supplies they were obliged to raise, had so soured and inflamed the minds of the populace, that they were resolved to endure it no longer, and obstinately refused to pay the taxes which were levied upon them. It is easy to discern how the great man applied this fable. For, if the branches and members of a community refuse the government that aid which its necessities require, the whole must perish together. The rulers of a State, as idle and insignificant as they may sometimes seem are yet as necessary to be kept up and maintained in a proper and decent grandeur, as the family of each private person is in a condition suitable to itself. Every man’s enjoyment of that little which he gains by his daily labor depends upon the government’s being maintained in a condition to defend and secure him in it.

Menenius Agrippa, a Roman consul, being deputed by the senate to appease a dangerous tumult and sedition of the people, who refused to pay the taxes necessary for carrying on the business of the state, convinced them of their folly by delivering to them the following fable.

My friends and countrymen, said he, attend to my words. It once happened that the members of the human body, taking some exception at the conduct of the Belly, resolved no longer to grant him the usual supplies. The Tongue first, in a seditious speech, aggravated their grievances; and after highly extolling the activity and diligence of the Hands and Feet, set forth how hard and unreasonable it was that the fruits of their labor should be squandered away upon the insatiable cravings of a fat and indolent paunch, which was entirely useless, and unable to do anything towards helping himself.

Original illustration from Aesops Fables, Together with the Life of Aesop by Mons. De Meziriac, 1897.

This speech was received with unanimous applause by all the members. Immediately the Hands declared they would work no more; the Feet determined to carry no farther the load with which they had hitherto been oppressed; nay, the very Teeth refused to prepare a single morsel more for his use. In this distress the Belly besought them to consider maturely, and not foment so senseless a rebellion. There is none of you, says he, but may be sensible that whatsoever you bestow upon me is immediately converted to your sue, and dispersed by me for the good of you all into every limb. But he remonstrated in vain; for during the clamors of passion the voice of reason is always unregarded. It being therefore impossible for him to quiet the tumult, he was starved for want of their assistance, and the body wasted away to a skeleton. The Limbs, grown weak and languid, were sensible at last of their error, and would fain have returned to their respective duty, but it was now too late; death had taken possession of the whole, and they all perished together.

We should well consider, whether the removal of a present evil does not tend to produce a greater.

Æsop. “The belly and the members,” in Aesop’s FAbles, Translated by V. S. Vernon Jones. New York: AVenel books, 1912. www.gutenberg.org/files/11339/11339-h/11339-h.htm

Æsop. “The belly and the members,” inThe Fables of Æsop With a Life of the Author, 175. New York: Hurd and Houghton, 1868. https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=uc1.b000938579&view=1up&seq=197.
Aesop. “The belly and the members,” in Aesop’s Fables: Together With the Life of Aesop, by Mons. de meziriac, 51. Chicago: The Henneberry Company, 1897. https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=mdp.39015005534220&view=1up&seq=53.

[1] Because this fable is short and has many translations, I’ve included three versions.

Contexts

Æsop is likely the most famous fabulist of all time. His stories have been used to teach children the values of many cultures over many centuries. Many famous children’s stories, such as “The Tortoise and the Hare“, “City Mouse and Country Mouse“, and “The Lion and the Mouse” are based on his work.

Resources for Further Study
  • For more information on what makes a story a fable, see this introduction to the text by G.K. Chesterton.
Contemporary Connections

There are countless picture books and anthologies based on Æsop’s works. The Library of Congress has turned “The Aesop for Children: with Pictures” by Milo Winter (1919) into an interactive ebook.

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