#WingedWordsWindsday: 01/12/2022 -- Fireside Fairy Tales for Long Winter Nights

 

WINGED WORDS WINDSDAY

Compiled by Rob Chappell (@RHCLambengolmo)

Vol. 1, No. 11: January 12, 2022

 

 

Fireside Fairy Tales for Long Winter Nights

 

“The Fairy Book”

By Norman Gale (1862-1942)

 

In summer, when the grass is thick, if Mother has the time,

She shows me with her pencil how a poet makes a rhyme,

And often she is sweet enough to choose a leafy nook,

Where I cuddle up so closely when she reads the Fairy-book.

 

In winter when the corn’s asleep, and birds are not in song.

And crocuses and violets have been away too long,

Dear Mother puts her thimble by in answer to my look,

And I cuddle up so closely when she reads the Fairy-book.

 

And Mother tells the servants that of course they must contrive

To manage all the household things from four till half-past five,

For we really cannot suffer interruption from the cook,

When we cuddle close together with the happy Fairy-book.

 

“Enter the Enchanted World of Classic Stories”

By Rob Chappell, M.A., Assistant to the Honors Dean

Adapted & Expanded from Cursus Honorum VII: 6 (January 2007)

                Long before the advent of television, radio, movies, and the Internet, storytelling provided our agrarian forebears with endless hours of edutainment. The myths, legends, and folktales transmitted by storytellers and collected by scholars demonstrate how our ancestors viewed their relationship with the natural world and with the invisible powers that were believed to dwell within and beyond it.

                Our pre-industrial ancestors’ worldview was built upon the foundation of shared stories that defined the nature of their common life together. Classic tales were handed down from one generation to the next because they conveyed important life lessons in engaging and memorable ways. Adults who spent their earliest years listening to spellbinding tales being recited from memory or read aloud from a storybook passed on their favorite stories to their children – along with the values and lessons that the stories contained.

                The following anthologies of classic tales, available in several printed editions and on the Internet, can provide us with the keys to an enchanted realm where the magic of the storyteller’s art can enthrall us for hours on end in the theater of the mind!

 

·         The Panchatantra, compiled by the Indian sage Vishnu Sharma (fl. ca. 200 BCE), is a vast collection of traditional animal tales from ancient India. It was designed to educate young royals on the principles of ethical leadership, and over the past two millennia, it has become the most translated literary work from the Indian subcontinent. The perennially popular tales of the Panchatantra have had an enduring impact on literary traditions throughout the world!

·         The Arabian Nights: Collected over a timespan of several centuries, beginning at the royal court of the learned Caliph Harun Al-Rashid (763-809) in Baghdad, these stories include such rollicking adventures as Aladdin, Sindbad the Sailor, Ali Baba, and many others. Although these 1001 tales were compiled in the Arabic language, they have a truly international flavor, having originated in such diverse places as China, India, Persia, the Arabian Peninsula, and Egypt.

·         The Grimms’ Fairy Tales: Collected by the scholarly German brothers Jakob (1785-1863) and Wilhelm (1786-1859) Grimm, this anthology showcases the traditional household tales of the German-speaking peoples of Central Europe. Many of our most familiar children’s stories (e.g., The Frog Prince, Rapunzel, etc.) first found their way into print through the Grimms’ anthology. However, the original tales are far more colorful than the versions adapted for children!

·         Bulfinch’s Mythology: Compiled by Thomas Bulfinch, a Bostonian classicist (1796-1867), this is the ultimate anthology of timeless tales from ancient and medieval Europe. His monumental compendium is sometimes divided into three separate volumes: (I) The Age of Fable, (II) The Age of Chivalry, and (III) Legends of Charlemagne. Each of Bulfinch’s lively retellings is drawn from authentic original source material.

·         Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales: This is my favorite collection of classic stories. Andersen (1805-1875) created marvelous tales from his own imagination that conveyed his profound insights into the human condition. All of Andersen’s stories are worthwhile reading, both those that are well known (e.g., The Ugly Duckling) and those that are more obscure (e.g., The Snow Queen).

 

This illustration comes from a Persian manuscript of the Panchatantra dated to 1429. (Image Credit: Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)

 

“Fairy Song” (Excerpted from Flower Fables)

By Louisa May Alcott (1832-1888)

 

The moonlight fades from flower and tree,

And the stars dim one by one;

The tale is told, the song is sung,

And the Fairy feast is done.

The night-wind rocks the sleeping flowers,

And sings to them, soft and low.

The early birds erelong will wake:

‘Tis time for the Elves to go.

 

O’er the sleeping Earth we silently pass,

Unseen by mortal eye,

And send sweet dreams, as we lightly float

Through the quiet moonlit sky;

For the stars’ soft eyes alone may see,

And the flowers alone may know,

The feasts we hold, the tales we tell:

So ‘tis time for the Elves to go.

 

From bird, and blossom, and bee,

We learn the lessons they teach;

And seek, by kindly deeds, to win

A loving friend in each.

And though unseen on Earth we dwell,

Sweet voices whisper low,

And gentle hearts most joyously greet

The Elves where’er they go.

 

When next we meet in the Fairy dell,

May the silver Moon’s soft light

Shine then on faces gay as now,

And Elfin hearts as light.

Now spread each wing, for the eastern sky

With sunlight soon will glow.

The morning star shall light us home:

Farewell! for the Elves must go.

 

 

 

Remembering Galileo on His Yahrzeit: January 8th

Happy New Year, everyone –

Around this time of year, right after the Yuletide holidays are over, I’m reminded of one of my all-time favorite heroes, Galileo (1564-1642), who passed over on January 8^th, just short of what would have been his 78^th birthday on February 15^th. (I will have more to say about Galileo on my blog @ https://rhcfortnightlyquotemail.blogspot.com in mid-February!) 😊 Galileo spoke truth to power in his day, yet even in defeat, he remained steadfast in his firm conviction that philosophy, religion, and science could still chant in three-part harmony, celebrating universal truths for the benefit of all humanity – just like the “music of the spheres” that Pythagoras had proposed over 2000 years before Galileo walked the Earth.

 

In this painting, the English poet John Milton (left) visits Galileo (right) during the late 1630s, while Galileo was under house arrest by the Inquisition.

Here are three poems that I like to remember and ponder over whenever I think about Galileo – a truly star-studded hero from my childhood days onward!

 

“Who Would True Valor See”

By John Bunyan (1628-1688)

Excerpted from Pilgrim’s Progress (1678-1684)

 

1. Who would true valor see,

Let him come hither;

One here will constant be,

Come wind, come weather.

There’s no discouragement

Shall make him once relent

His first avowed intent

To be a pilgrim.

 

2. Whoso beset him round

With dismal stories,

Do but themselves confound;

His strength the more is.

No lion can him fright,

He’ll with a giant fight,

But he will have a right

To be a pilgrim.

 

3. Hobgoblin nor foul fiend

Can daunt his spirit,

He knows he at the end

Shall life inherit.

Then fancies fly away,

He’ll fear not what men say,

He’ll labor night and day

To be a pilgrim.

 

“The Spacious Firmament on High”

By Joseph Addison (1672-1719)

[Based on Psalm 19]

 

The spacious firmament on high,

With all the blue ethereal sky,

And spangled heavens, a shining frame,

Their great Original proclaim:

The unwearied Sun, from day to day,

Does his Creator’s power display,

And publishes to every land

The work of an almighty hand.

 

Soon as the evening shades prevail,

The Moon takes up the wondrous tale,

And nightly to the listening Earth

Repeats the story of her birth:

Whilst all the stars that round her burn,

And all the planets, in their turn,

Confirm the tidings as they roll,

And spread the truth from pole to pole.

 

What though, in solemn silence, all

Move round the dark terrestrial ball?

What though no real voice nor sound

Amidst their radiant orbs be found?

In Reason’s ear they all rejoice,

And utter forth a glorious voice,

Forever singing, as they shine,

The hand that made us is divine.

 

“A Psalm of Life”

(What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist)

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

 

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream ! —

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

 

Life is real !   Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal ;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

Was not spoken of the soul.

 

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way ;

But to act, that each to-morrow

Find us farther than to-day.

 

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

 

In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle !

Be a hero in the strife !

 

Trust no Future, however pleasant !

Let the dead Past bury its dead !

Act,— act in the living Present !

Heart within, and God overhead !

 

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time ;

 

Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.

 

Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate ;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait.

 

Until next time – keep looking up! 😊

 

Rob

 

#WingedWordsWindsday: A Calendrical Celebration for the New Year

 

WINGED WORDS WINDSDAY

Compiled by Rob Chappell (@RHCLambengolmo)

Vol. 1, No. 10: January 5, 2022

 

 

A Calendrical Celebration for the New Year

 

Editor’s Note

                As far back as I can remember, I have been fascinated by calendars and their mysterious numerical intricacies. Since my sophomore year as a Classical Philology major at the University of Illinois, I have also been fascinated by an ancient Roman historical figure: Numa Pompilius, the second King of Rome (reigned 715-673 BCE). In addition to keeping the peace for 39 of his 42 years on the throne, he also created many religious institutions and orders of clergy, and – perhaps most importantly for future history – he reformed the ancient Roman calendar, making January the first month of the year (instead of beginning the year in March, as his predecessor, King Romulus, had done).

                So in honor of the New Year and the month of January, here are some stories and poems about King Numa and his calendar, which is the direct ancestor of our own!

 

Historical Overview

Excerpted from B. G. Niebuhr’s History of Rome. Vol. 1, p. 237 ff. (1845)

                On the death of Romulus the senate at first would enjoy the royal power in rotation as interrex. In this way a year passed. The people, being treated more oppressively than before, were vehement in demanding the election of a sovereign to protect them. When the senate permitted it to be held, the Romans and Sabines disputed out of which nation the king should be taken. It was agreed that the former should choose him out of the latter: and all voices concurred in naming the wise and pious Numa Pompilius of Cures, who had married the daughter of Tatius.

                It was a very prevalent belief in antiquity that Numa had derived his knowledge from the Greek Pythagoras; Polybius and other writers attempted to show that this was impossible, for chronological reasons, inasmuch as Pythagoras did not come into Italy till the reign of Servius Tullius; but an impartial critic, who does not believe that the son of Mnesarchus was the only Pythagoras, or that there is any kind of necessity for placing Numa in the twentieth Olympiad, or, in fine, that the historical personality of Pythagoras is more certain than that of Numa, will be pleased with the old popular opinion, and will not sacrifice it to chronology.

                When Numa was assured by the auguries that the gods approved of his election, the first care of the pious king was turned, not to the rites of the temples, but to human institutions. He divided the lands which Romulus had conquered and had left open to occupancy. He founded the worship of Terminus. It was not till after he had done this that Numa set himself to legislate for religion. He was revered as the author of the Roman ceremonial law. Instructed by the Camena Egeria, who was espoused to him in a visible form, and who led him into the assemblies of her sisters in the sacred grove, he regulated the whole hierarchy; the pontiffs, who took care, by precept and by chastisement, that the laws relating to religion should be observed both by individuals and by the state; the augurs, whose calling it was to afford security for the councils of men by piercing into those of the gods; the flamens, who ministered in the temples of the supreme deities; the chaste virgins of Vesta; the Salii, who solemnized the worship of the gods with armed dances and songs. He prescribed the rites according to which the people might offer worship and prayer acceptable to the gods. To him were revealed the conjurations for compelling Jupiter himself to make known his will, by lightnings and the flight of birds: whereas others were forced to wait for these prodigies from the favor of the god, who was often silent to such as were doomed to destruction. This charm he learned from Faunus and Picus, whom, by the advice of Egeria, he enticed and bound in chains, as Midas bound Silenus in the rose garden. From this pious prince the god brooked such boldness. At Numa's entreaty he exempted the people from the terrible duty of offering up human sacrifices. But when the audacious Tullus presumed to imitate his predecessor, he was killed by a flash of lightning during his conjurations in the temple of Jupiter Elicius.

                The thirty-nine years of Numa's reign, which glided away in quiet happiness, without any war or any calamity, afforded no legends but of such marvels. That nothing might break the peace of his days, the ancile fell from heaven, when the land was threatened with a pestilence, which disappeared as soon as Numa ordained the ceremonies of the Salii. Numa was not a theme of song, like Romulus; indeed he enjoined that, among all the Camenae, the highest honors should be paid to Tacita. Yet a story was handed down, that, when he was entertaining his guests, the plain food in the earthenware dishes were turned on the appearance of Egeria into a banquet fit for gods, in vessels of gold, in order that her divinity might be made manifest to the incredulous. The temple of Janus, his work, continued always shut: peace was spread over Italy; until Numa, like the darlings of the gods in the golden age, fell asleep, full of days. Egeria melted away in tears into a fountain. 

The future King Numa (at left) visits the Greek philosopher Pythagoras (at right) in Croton, Italy. (Image Credit: Public Domain – 18^th Century French Painting)

 

Numa and Pythagoras

Excerpted from Book 15 of the Metamorphoses

By Ovid (43 BCE-17 CE)

English Translation by John Dryden (1631-1700)

A king is sought to guide the growing state,

One able to support the public weight

And fill the throne where Romulus had sate.

Renown, which oft bespeaks the public voice,

Had recommended Numa to their choice:

A peaceful, pious prince; who not content

To know the Sabine rites, his study bent

To cultivate his mind; to learn the laws

Of Nature, and explore their hidden cause.

Urged by this care, his country he forsook,

And to Crotona thence his journey took.

*                              *                              *

Here dwelt the man divine, whom Samos bore,

But now self-banished from his native shore,

Because he hated tyrants, nor could bear

The chains, which none but servile souls will wear.

He, though from Heaven remote, to Heaven could move,

With strength of mind, and tread the abyss above;

And penetrate, with his interior light,

Those upper depths, which Nature hid from sight:

And what he had observed, and learnt from thence,

Loved in familiar language to dispense.

The crowd with silent admiration stand,

And heard him, as they heard their God's command;

While he discoursed of Heaven's mysterious laws,

The world's original, and Nature's cause;

And what was God; and why the fleecy snows

In silence fell, and rattling winds arose;

What shook the steadfast Earth, and whence begun

The dance of planets round the radiant sun;

If thunder was the voice of angry Jove,

Or clouds, with niter pregnant, burst above:

Of these, and things beyond the common reach,

He spoke, and charmed his audience with his speech.

*                              *                              *

These precepts by the Samian sage were taught,

Which godlike Numa to the Sabines brought,

And thence transferred to Rome, by gift his own:

A willing people, and an offered throne.

O happy monarch, sent by Heaven to bless

A savage nation with soft arts of peace,

To teach religion, rapine to restrain,

Give laws to lust, and sacrifice ordain:

Himself a saint, a goddess was his bride,

And all the Muses over his acts preside.

Advanced in years he died; one common date

His reign concluded, and his mortal state.

 

“Universe of Pythagoras” from Dante and the Early Astronomers (1913 – Public Domain).

 

Life of Numa (Chapter 18)

By Plutarch (46-120 CE)

English Translation from the Loeb Classical Library (1914 – Public Domain)

                He applied himself, also, to the adjustment of the calendar, ​ not with exactness, and yet not altogether without careful observation. For during the reign of Romulus, they had been irrational and irregular in their fixing of the months, reckoning some at less than twenty days, some at thirty-five, and some at more; they had no idea of the inequality of the annual motions of the Sun and Moon, but held to this principle only, that the year should consist of three hundred and sixty days. But Numa, estimating the extent of the inequality at eleven days, since the lunar year had three hundred and fifty-four days, but the solar year three hundred and sixty-five, doubled these eleven days, and every other year inserted after the month of February the intercalary month called Mercedinus by the Romans, which consisted of twenty-two days. This correction of the inequality which he made was destined to require other and greater corrections in the future.

                He also changed the order of the months. March, which had been first, he made the third month, and January, which had been the eleventh month under Romulus, he made the first month; February, which had been twelfth and last, thus became the second month, as now. But there are many who say that these months of January and February were added to the calendar by Numa, and that at the outset the Romans had only ten months in their year, as some barbarians have three, and as, among the Greeks, the Arcadians have four, and the Acarnanians six; the Egyptian year had at first only a single month in it, afterwards four, as we are told. And therefore, though they inhabit a very recent country, ​ they have the credit of being a very ancient people, and load their genealogies with a prodigious number of years, since they really count their months as so many years.

 

“Thirty Days Hath September”

(Anonymous – Traditional Rhyme of Lore)

Thirty days has September,

April, June, and November,

All the rest have thirty-one,

Save February at twenty-eight,

But leap year, coming once in four,

February then has one day more.

 

“The Months”

By Sara Coleridge (1802-1852)

January brings the snow,
Makes our feet and fingers glow.
February brings the rain,
Thaws the frozen lake again.
March brings breezes loud and shrill,
Stirs the dancing daffodil.
April brings the primrose sweet,
Scatters daises at our feet.
May brings flocks of pretty lambs,
Skipping by their fleecy dams.
June brings tulips, lilies, roses,
Fills the children's hand with posies.
Hot July brings cooling showers,
Apricots and gillyflowers.
August brings the sheaves of corn,
Then the harvest home is borne.
Warm September brings the fruit,
Sportsmen then begin to shoot.
Fresh October brings the pheasants,
Then to gather nuts is pleasant.
Dull November brings the blast,
Then the leaves are whirling fast.
Chill December brings the sleet,
Blazing fire, and Christmas treat.