Fools and Wise Men

Folk Tales of Wisdom

Mike O'Connor

• Publisher: The History Press
• Year: 2022
• Print ISBN: 9780750998710
• eBook ISBN: 9781803990767

Before schooling was widely available, for most people the classroom was at the fireside, the field and the country lane, where the bards told their tales.

Many such folk tales exist to convey life-lessons in an entertaining way. These stories are not the pontifications of ancient philosophers: they are the gleanings of countless storytellers, everyday men and women with hard-won life experiences and pockets full of folklore. The tales reflect the times and places of their origin, but have been handed down from generation to generation, evolving to meet changing times. Some are amusing; some are thought-provoking; all have been polished and honed for so long that their message slips, almost imperceptibly, into the mind.

Fools and Wise Men retells these stories for new generations – repaying our debts to the bards of old.

Personal Qualities

THE ANT AND THE DOVE

Here is the original as published by Caxton in 1484. A retelling follows.

The xj fable is of the ante and of the columbe

None ought to be slowful of the good whiche he receyueth of other / As reherceth this fable of an Ante / whiche came to a fontayne for to drynke / and as she wold haue dronke she felle within the fontayn / vpon the whiche was a columbe or douue / whiche seyng that the Ante shold haue ben drowned withoute helpe / took a braunche of a tree / & a cast it to her for to saue her self / And the Ante wente anone vpon the braunche and saued her /

And anone after came a Fawkoner / whiche wold haue take the douue / And thenne the Ante whiche sawe that the Fawkoner dressyd his nettes came to his foote / and soo fast pryked hit / that she caused hym to smyte the erthe with his foote / and therwith made soo grete noyse / that the douue herd hit / wherfore she flewhe aweye or the gynne and nettes were al sette /

And therfore none ought to forgete the benyfyce whiche he hath receyued of some other/ for slowfulnesse is a grete synne/

The eleventh fable is that of the ant and the dove.

No one should be slow to say ‘thank you’ for a favour that he receives from another. This is shown in this fable of an ant that came to a fountain to drink. But as she was about to drink, she fell into the fountain. But on the fountain was a dove that, seeing that the ant would be drowned unless helped, took a branch of a tree and threw it in to her, so she could save herself. So, the ant then climbed on the branch and so was saved.

But then, sometime later, along came a falconer, who wanted to catch the dove. But the ant saw that the falconer was preparing his nets. So the ant swiftly pricked the falconer’s foot. This made the falconer stamp the ground, and he made such a noise that the dove heard it and flew away before the trap and nets were set. So the ant repaid the dove’s kindness.

In the same way, no one ought to forget a kindness that he has received from another, for not saying ‘thank you’ is a great sin.

THE PISKEY THRESHER

The north coast of Cornwall is wild and rugged, but the south coast has lower cliffs and above them farmland rolls down towards the sea. On the south coast there is one place I could show you, where it always seems that the crops are good, and in the late summer the waves on the ocean are echoed by waves wind-blown in golden fields.

But it was not always so. Once, the land was farmed by an old widow woman and Jack, her young son. The old woman was wise to the ways of the land; she understood the soil and the seasons. One of her many instructions was always to leave a little something for the Piskeys.

She used to say:

Kind hearts are gardens,

Kind thoughts are roots,

Kind words are blossoms,

Kind deeds are fruits.

But times were often difficult, and they had hardly enough for themselves. But still her son always followed his mother’s instructions, and he always left a saucer of milk or some scraps of bread in the barn, just in case the little people were in need.

Then one magic year young Jack sowed his corn seed. As he sowed he sang:

One for the rook, one for the crow,

One to rot and one to grow.

But the rook said to the crow,

Fly away Peter, fly away Paul,

Piskey says take none at all.

And the sun said to the warm earth,

Sun and rain and growing seed,

August harvest gold indeed.

When the first green shoots appeared, it was clear that they would have a bumper harvest.

Jack said to himself, ‘How shall I ever get such a harvest safe in the barn before the rains come?’ When the harvest field shone gold, he went out at dawn with his scythe and he worked until dusk. But the field was large, and in the last light of the day he saw he had only cut about a half of it. As he gathered in the stooks that were ready, he sighed as he saw the clouds on the horizon. But before he went to bed, he still remembered to leave a few scraps for the little people.

But when Jack woke next morning and looked from the window, he saw that the whole field had been cut. He ran to the barn and saw it was full. As if by magic the harvest was ready for threshing, to loosen the wheat from the chaff.

So, Jack took his threshel to beat the grain on the threshing floor. But the barn was large, and in the last light of day he saw he had only threshed about a half of the grain. He sighed as he realised he could never get his harvest threshed and winnowed and sacked in time for market. But before he went to bed, he still remembered to leave some scraps for the little people.

But when Jack woke the next morning and went to the barn, he saw that all the threshing had been done. As if by magic all the grain was ready for winnowing. So, Jack opened the doors at either end of the barn so that the wind blew through. Then he took his winnowing fork and began tossing the grain, so the light chaff was carried away on the wind, and the heavy grain collected at his feet. When there was enough, he shovelled the grain into a sack. All day he winnowed and sacked. But the harvest was large, and in the last light of day he saw he had only winnowed about a half of it. He sighed as he realised he could never get his grain winnowed and sacked in time for market, which was the very next day. But before he went to bed, he still remembered to leave a few scraps for the little people.

But in the middle of the night Jack suddenly woke up. He put on a dressing gown and crept down the stairs. Without making a sound Jack tiptoed out to the barn. The doors had been opened, but he carefully looked in through a crack in the planking. Inside he saw a little man, clad in a tattered green jacket. This little fellow was wielding a winnowing fork like no one Jack had ever seen. The fork moved so swiftly it was almost invisible. Sack after sack of grain was filled and put on the cart.

So when he woke the next morning and returned to the barn he saw that all the winnowing and sacking was done. All the sacks of grain were on the cart ready to be taken to the market.

In the first light of the day, off he went to market, and there he got an excellent price for his grain. Then the very next thing he did was go to the tailor’s shop.

‘I want the finest jacket you can make,’ said Jack. ‘But it must be green, and must fit a little man only about two feet high.’

The tailor looked very surprised, but he made the jacket just as he was asked.

That night before Jack went to bed he went out to the barn. There he left a little jug of milk, some bread and cheese, and beside it he left the green jacket. Then Jack went to bed, but in the middle of the night he woke up. Once again he put on his dressing gown and went tiptoeing out to the barn.

There, as he peered inside, he saw the little chap drink up the milk, eat the bread and cheese, and with a huge smile on his face try on the jacket. Jack smiled too as he saw that the jacket fitted perfectly.

Then the little man started to sing:

Piskey fine, and piskey gay,

Piskey now will fly away.

Then the little man ran out into the darkness, and he was never seen again. But still Jack always left what he could for the little people. And to this very day on the south coast there is a place I could show you, where it always seems that the crops are good, and in the late summer the waves on the ocean are echoed by waves wind-blown in golden fields.

THE CHANGELING AND HIS BAGPIPES

Once there was a young man known to all as Rickard the Rake. He earned that nickname because of the time he spent in alehouses, fair tents and dance houses, and following hunts and other such activities, leaving his brothers and his old father to run the farm.

Now, it was indispensable to the solemnities of a dance in that part of the land, to take the barn door off its hinges, lay it on the floor, and there test the skill of the best dancers in the room. In this Rickard the Rake was pre-eminent, and on many an evening all would be amazed at his flourishes, lofty springs and kicks, and fashionable variations taught by the dancing masters of old.

But one evening, while thus earning the applause of the crowd, he suddenly gave a cry of pain, and fell on his side on the door. A wonderful scene of confusion ensued. There were the groans of the dancer, the pitying exclamations of the crowd, and their eager endeavours to comfort the sufferer.

Poor Rickard was carried home and confined to his bed for weeks. His ailment seemed to be a stiffness in one of his hip joints, undoubtedly caused by a fairy dart. ‘Fairy doctors’,²³ male and female, tried their herbs and charms on him in vain; and more than one, on leaving the house, said to his family, ‘Let us pray to God that it’s not one of those sheeoges²⁴ you are nursing, instead of wild Rickard!’

Indeed, there was good reason for such a prayer. The reckless, ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• Acknowledgements
• Illustrations
• Introduction
• On Wisdom
• The Family
• Personal Qualities
• Fools And Wise Men
• Stranger Danger
• Otherworlds
• Facing Eternity
• The Way Ahead
• Notes
• Bibliography