The Art of the Story-Teller | Page 4

the individual words)
and have lessened their disappointment at the dramatic issue being
postponed; but I trusted to my own lame verbal efforts, and signally
failed. Attention flagged, fidgeting began, the atmosphere was rapidly
becoming spoiled in spit of the patience and toleration still shown by
the children. At last, however, one little girl in the front row, as
spokeswoman for the class, suddenly said: "If you please, before you
go on any further, do you mind telling us whether, after all, that
Poly . . . [slight pause] . . . that . . . [final attempt] . . . Polyanthus
died?"
Now, the remembrance of this question has been of extreme use to me
in my career as a story-teller. I have realized that in a short dramatic
story the mind of the listeners must be set at ease with regard to the
ultimate fate of the special Polyanthus who takes the center of the
stage.
I remember, too, the despair of a little boy at a dramatic representation
of "Little Red Riding-Hood," when that little person delayed the
thrilling catastrophe with the Wolf, by singing a pleasant song on her
way through the wood. "Oh, why," said the little boy, "does she not get
on?" And I quite shared his impatience.

This warning is necessary only in connection with the short dramatic
narrative. There are occasions when we can well afford to offer short
descriptions for the sake of literary style, and for the purpose of
enlarging the vocabulary of the child. I have found, however, in these
cases, it is well to take the children into your confidence, warning them
that they are to expect nothing particularly exciting in the way of
dramatic event. They will then settle down with a freer mind (though
the mood may include a touch of resignation) to the description you are
about to offer them.
2. Altering the story to suit special occasions is done sometimes from
extreme conscientiousness, sometimes from sheer ignorance of the
ways of children. It is the desire to protect them from knowledge which
they already possess and with which they, equally conscientious, are
apt to "turn and rend" the narrator. I remember once when I was telling
the story of the Siege of Troy to very young children, I suddenly felt
anxious lest there should be anything in the story of the rape of Helen
not altogether suitable for the average age of the class, namely, nine
years. I threw, therefore, a domestic coloring over the whole subject
and presented an imaginary conversation between Paris and Helen, in
which Paris tried to persuade Helen that she was strong-minded woman
thrown away on a limited society in Sparta, and that she should come
away and visit some of the institutions of the world with him, which
would doubtless prove a mutually instructive journey.[1] I then gave
the children the view taken by Herodotus that Helen never went to Troy,
but was detained in Egypt. The children were much thrilled by the story,
and responded most eagerly when, in my inexperience, I invited them
to reproduce in writing for the next day the story I had just told them. A
small child presented me, as you will see, with the ethical problem from
which I had so laboriously protected her. The essay ran:
Once upon a time the King of Troy's son was called Paris. And he went
over to Greace to see what it was like. And here he saw the beautiful
Helener, and likewise her husband Menelayus. And one day,
Menelayus went out hunting, and left Paris and Helener alone, and
Paris said: "Do you not feel dul in this palis?"[2] And Helener said: "I
feel very dull in this pallice," and Paris said: "Come away and see the

world with me." So they sliped off together, and they came to the King
of Egypt, and he said: "Who is the young lady"? So Paris told him.
"But," said the King, "it is not propper for you to go off with other
people's wifes. So Helener shall stop here." Paris stamped his foot.
When Menelayus got home, he stamped his foot. And he called round
him all his soldiers, and they stood round Troy for eleven years. At last
they thought it was no use standing any longer, so they built a wooden
horse in memory of Helener and the Trojans and it was taken into the
town.
Now, the mistake I made in my presentation was to lay any particular
stress on the reason for elopement by my careful readjustment, which
really called more attention to the episode than was necessary for the
age of my audience; and evidently caused confusion in the minds of
some of the children who knew the story in its more