Fables & Folktales
The Emperor’s New Clothes (Classic Fairy Tale)
The Emperor’s New Clothes is a from 1837, written by Hans Christian Andersen, the same guy who wrote The Little Mermaid, Thumbelina, The Ugly Duckling, and The Princess and the Pea. This story is somewhat different, though, because there’s nothing magical about it. It also has an unusually large number of moral lessons embedded into it.
As is tradition, this is a retelling in my own (human) words.
The Fairy Tale
A long time ago, in a faraway kingdom, there lived an Emperor who was extremely fond of new clothes. He spent his time changing from one fabulous garment to another, parading around for his subjects to admire.
News of the Emperor’s vanity spread far and wide until it reached the ears of two cunning weavers. Seeing an opportunity, they journeyed to the kingdom, promising they could weave the most magnificent fabric imaginable. The unique quality of this material, they said, was that only the wise could see it.
The Emperor thought this was an excellent opportunity to discover which of his ministers and courtiers were unfit for their positions. He paid the weavers a hefty sum so they could begin their work at once.
After a while, the Emperor sent his most trusted advisors to see how the work was progressing. The weavers invited them to inspect the loom. They all praised the material, expressing admiration for its colours and patterns.
Word of the garment’s beauty quickly spread through the court, and soon the Emperor himself came to see the marvellous garment. He was shocked when he could not see the cloth himself, but he was afraid of appearing foolish, so he lavished praise upon the weavers and their work, expressing his eagerness to wear the finished garments.
On the day of the grand procession, the weavers carefully dressed the Emperor in his new clothes, complimenting his appearance and explaining the intricacies of the designs. The Emperor nodded along, unwilling to admit he couldn’t see any of these supposed wonders.
As the Emperor paraded down the streets, his subjects, who had heard of the cloth’s strange properties, praised the invisible finery, not wanting to appear unwise themselves.
Finally, a small child, too young to understand the pretense everyone was upholding, cried out, “But he hasn’t got anything on!” The child’s innocent words broke the spell, and whispers started spreading among the crowd.
The Emperor heard the murmuring and felt a chill of doubt, but he held his head high. He decided to continue the procession even more majestically. After all, the only thing more magnificent than an emperor’s garments is the Emperor himself.
The Moral
The moral of The Emperor’s New Clothes is that when we try to impress others, we lose sight of what’s actually worth caring about. It’s a common moral. Tolstoy wrote about it, too, using the same analogy:
A rich man goes to a threadmaker to spin some fine (thin) threads. The threadmaker spins the finest threads she can, but they feel too coarse to the rich man, so he asks for even finer ones. She cannot spin finer ones, so she shows the man nothing, explaining how the threads are so fine that they cannot even be seen. The rich man is delighted and pays her a hefty sum of gold.
The Emperor’s New Clothes goes deeper, with a variety of other morals embedded into it:
- Peer pressure can lead us down silly paths.
- The situation gets worse with every lie.
- Our pride blinds us to reality.
- The fear of judgment can silence the truth.
- The popular opinion can be wrong.
- Sometimes, the naive are best able to see the truth.
- We ought to face humiliation with dignity.
These fairy tales with moral lessons are very similar to Jewish and Muslim folktales. Or you might like The Spider King and His Astrologer or perhaps The Man Who Never Lied.
Hans Christian Andersen also wrote the original Little Mermaid fairy tale. And if you like those classic fairy tales, you might like Sleeping Beauty by Charles Perrault.
The Snake, the Farmer and the Heron: A Dark African Fable
The Snake, the Farmer and the Heron is an old African folktale from the Hausa tribe, told throughout the northern regions of Nigeria and the southern areas of the Niger. It picked up even more popularity after being featured in 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene. It’s a story about how water doesn’t flow uphill. That won’t make much sense yet, but I’ll explain it at the end.
It’s one of my favourite fables. I’ve retold it in my own words, sticking to the classic story beats. Then I’ll give you my own version.
I’m a real person, and I’d love to hear your thoughts. That’s the fun of fables like these. Drop a comment after reading, if you can.
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The Frogs & the Ox (Aesop’s Fables)
The Lion-Makers, An Old Indian Fable
The Lion-Makers is a fable from the Panchatantra, a collection of Indian folktales dating back to the 3rd century BCE. The story warns those who create without having a full understanding of what they’re unleashing upon the world. It was written thousands of years before the invention of nuclear bombs and the growing opportunities (and dangers) of artificial intelligence, and yet still it warns us.
I’ll go deeper into the implications at the end.
Read MoreThe Crane and the Heron (Russian Fable)
The Crane and the Heron is an old Russian folktale. It’s an Aesopic “beast fable” with animal characters. I’m not sure exactly how old it is or who first wrote it down.
The Fable
A long time ago, there was a Crane who lived in the marsh. It was a quiet night, and he was feeling lonely, so he went to see the Heron that lived in the branches of a nearby tree.
The Crane said, “Dear Heron, I live all alone down here, and I think we would make a good pair. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
The Heron had been dreaming of someone with a taller neck and a larger nest, so she turned him down, saying, “No, Crane, I cannot marry you.” The Crane, hurt by the rejection, flew back to his nest.
After some time passed, the Heron thought, “Perhaps I was too hasty in my decision. The Crane is kind, and I am lonely too. I should accept his proposal.”
So the Heron flew to the Crane’s marsh and said, “Crane, I have changed my mind. I will marry you.”
But the Crane remembered how the Heron had rejected him. And besides, in truth, the Heron was getting a little old to be starting a family. He replied, “No, I have changed my mind. I do not want to marry you.” The Heron flew back to her home, furious.
Soon, there was another quiet night, and the Crane felt lonely again. He went back to the Heron to propose once more. The Heron was still angry, so she refused him.
And so it went, back and forth, until they both died bitter and alone.
The Moral
The moral of The Crane and the Heron is that pride and indecision can lead to missed opportunities and regret. Most people have been in a situation like this, where you don’t want something when you can have it, but then you change your mind when it stops being available. It’s easy to get lured in by people who play hard to get, but sometimes it’s best to appreciate what’s right in front of you.
The second part of the moral lesson is that you mustn’t cut off your nose to spite your face. At a certain point, both the Crane and the Heron realize they want to be together, but they both feel wronged, so they punish themselves to punish the other.
If you liked this fable, there’s a totally different fable about a heron that’s just as good. If you like fables about doomed romances, try The Scorpion and the Turtle. Or, if you want a fable with the exact opposite moral lesson as this one, try The Fox and the Grapes.
The Butchered Man Folktale
The Butchered Man is a medieval folktale from Ispanthia. More recently, a version of it appeared in Christopher Buehlman’s novel The Daughters’ War.
This is a retelling in my own words.
The Fable
A family was driving a wagon through the woods on a dark night. There was a father, a mother, their three children, and the wolves that followed.
The wolves kept to the shadows behind and beside the cart. There were three or four of them. Perhaps more. It was very dark. The father had a knife but nothing else—no spear, nor swords, nor torch with which to threaten them.
He urged the horse on, but the wagon was much too heavy to outrun the wolves, and he knew they would strike soon.
The mother said, “Let the children take the horse! They can escape. The oldest is old enough to care for the others.”
The father said, “I cannot lose you, but I have no need of this ornament.”
And with that, he cut off his hand and tossed it to the wolves.
Three wolves lunged into the light, and he saw them clearly for the first time. They were starved and gaunt and vicious, with ribs made for counting. They fought over the hand, biting and snarling at one another, soon falling behind and out of sight.
But the hand was only enough to whet their appetite. Soon, the wolves were licking at their heels again, more ravenous than before.
The middle child, in his terror, said, “Mother, cast the baby from your arms! You can make another! It will be over too quick for him to suffer.”
The father would not have it. “I will not lose her. But what is a stem without its flower?”
So saying, he cut his arm off and cast it to the wolves. Again, they pounced upon it, snarling and biting. And again, they fell out of sight.
Some time went by before the wolves returned, more vigorous than before.
And so went the father’s foot, then his leg, and then the other.
The wolves loped along easily beside the wagon now.
The eldest son said, “Father, you have nothing left to give! We must stand and fight!”
But, of course, it was too late for that. The father was much too weak, and the wolves had grown much too strong, and they had worked up quite a hunger.
The Moral
In the original version of The Butchered Man, the fable ends with deus ex machina—with a god turning the wolves into sheep and restoring the family’s severed limbs. The moral is that sacrifice is rewarded. In that version, the fable is told by a general as she sends her doomed soldiers into battle, where they perish.
It’s the sort of story a master would tell his slave. The sort of story where a life of brutal servitude is rewarded in the afterlife.
In this retelling, the moral is nearly the opposite. With each limb the father severs, he grows weaker, and the wolves grow stronger. To expect anything else is folly.
There’s another old saying: give them an inch, and they’ll take a mile. The expression means that if you show weakness, conceding even a small point or giving even a little leeway, then you invite others to grasp for even more.
Imagine you’ve fallen on hard times, and you get so caught up in surviving the moment that you forget about the future. Perhaps you cut back on exercise or sleep. Maybe you let yourself fall into debt. Perhaps you dream and gamble. You find yourself hoping for a break, a bit of luck. But situations often get worse before they get better, and if you grow softer as times grow harder, how long will you survive?
There’s a saying from the 15th century: the wolf is always at the door. It urges us to prepare ourselves against the looming dread. We don’t know when the wolves will come, but we must keep ourselves strong for when they do.
If you liked this story, you might like The Ant and the Grasshopper or A Tale of Two Orangs. Both of them agree with this fable, even though they have opposite moral lessons to each other.
The Tortoise & the Hare (Aesop’s Fables)
The Tortoise and the Hare is one of Aesop’s most well-known fables. It’s one of the old Greek ones, perhaps recorded as early as 600 BCE. It has a famous moral lesson, but there’s a bit more to it.
As is tradition with fables, this is a retelling in my own words.
The Fable
A hare came upon a tortoise. The tortoise had short little legs and stocky feet, as all tortoises do. The hare found this funny, and he started to laugh.
“Laugh all you like,” said the tortoise, “but I would beat you in a race.”
“Bah,” the hare scoffed. “Those are just words. Race me to the river, and you will see.”
The tortoise accepted the challenge and immediately set off toward the river, plodding along at a pathetic pace.
The hare raced ahead until the turtle was out of sight, but then his motivation wavered. There was no challenge here. No thrill of competition. So he lay down to wait for the turtle to catch up. After several minutes, the turtle was still out of sight, and the hare fell asleep.
When the hare woke, he ran to the river as fast as he could, but the foul turtle was already there waiting for him, a smug smile on his face.
The Moral
The moral of The Tortoise and the Hare is that great natural abilities can be ruined by laziness. You’ll get much further with sobriety, passion, and perseverance.
You might also hear “slow and steady wins the race.” That fits, too, though the meaning is somewhat different, and I prefer the other. The tortoise didn’t win the race because he was slow but rather because he put his full passion into it, persevering until he’d won. Even then, he only won because of the rabbit’s indolence.
If you liked this fable, you might like The Ant and the Grasshopper, The Lion and the Mouse, or The Boy Who Cried Wolf. Or perhaps you’d like a more obscure fable like The Lobster and the Lamb.
The Fox, the Duck, and the Lion (A Modern American Fable)
The Fox, the Duck and the Lion is an American fable written by Ambrose Bierce, a 19th-century American writer best known for writing The Devil’s Dictionary. It’s a modern twist on the much older Aesopic fables. I’ll explain at the end.
As is tradition with these sorts of fables, this is a retelling in my own words.
The Fable
A Fox and a Duck were quarrelling over a frog they’d caught, so they decided to take their dispute to the wise Lion. After listening to both of their arguments, the Lion opened his mouth to deliver his judgment.
“I know what your decision will be,” the Duck interrupted.
“You will declare that the Frog belongs to neither of us and that you will eat him yourself. But allow me to say that this is unjust, and I shall prove it.”
The Fox then chimed in, “To me, it is evident that you will award the Frog to the Duck, the Duck to me, and take me yourself. I am well-versed in the ways of the law.”
The Lion, yawning, said, “I was about to explain that during the course of your arguments, the Frog in question has hopped away. Perhaps you both procure another.”
Interpretation
The lion is a recurring character in classic fables. In the most famous of those fables, he goes out hunting with a fox, a wolf, and a jackal. They catch a stag, and they decide to split it into four equal parts, at which point the lion declares, “I will take the first part because I am the king of the beasts. The second part is mine because I am the strongest. The third part is mine because of my great courage, and as for the fourth part, let anyone who dares try to take it from me.”
The lion gets the “lion’s share.”
In other stories, the lion is more vicious still, finding excuses to eat his allies and attendants, as in The Lion and the Monkey’s Breath. Another example is The Wolf, the Fox, and the Ailing Lion.
In the The Fox, the Duck and the Lion, the duck seems to have read the most famous of the lion’s fables. The fox, always clever, appears to know all of them.
But there’s a twist. They got distracted by their arguments and assumptions. The frog gets away. And so the moral, I suppose, is that we shouldn’t fuss, lest we lose what we’re fussing over.
In another fable, Ambrose Bierce has two shepherd dogs fighting over a bone. They go to one of the sheep to settle the dispute. The sheep throws the bone into a river. When the dogs confront the sheep, it explains how it’s a vegetarian.
If you liked this fable, there’s a modern Mexican fable called The Rabbit and the Lion. And if you like these folktales with clever twists in them, I suspect you’d like The Misadventures of Nasreddin. Or, for a classic fable you may not have read yet, I recommend The Donkey and the Onager.
The Misadventures of Nasreddin (Turkish Folktales)
Nasreddin Hodja is a “wise fool” from medieval Muslim folklore. Legend has it that he was born in Hortu Village in the 13th century in a country now known as Turkey. Some scholars believe he was a real person. He has a tomb, so perhaps it’s true.
As with many folktales, the stories are virile and reproduce at an alarming rate. There are hundreds of them now. You might recognize some, even if you’ve never heard of Nasreddin. For example, The Legend of the Spider King and His Astrologer is a popular legend in its own right, but it’s also been claimed by Nasreddin. Some of the stories also overlap with Jewish folktales.
These are some of my favourite Nasreddin stories. If you want more, Laura Gibbs has two hundred of them on her blog.
As is tradition, these are retellings in my own words.
Read MoreThe Wolf, the Fox, and the Ailing Lion (Aesopic Fable)
The Wolf, the Fox and the Ailing Lion is an old Aesopic fable first recorded by Émile Chambry in 1925 in France. It’s one of the classic stories about a cunning fox, and it has a clever twist and a grim ending. It’s one of my favourites.
As is tradition, this is a retelling in my own words.
The Fable
The lion lay in his cave. He was old and sick and soon to die, so the animals came to pay their final respects. All except for the fox.
The wolf noticed that his rival, the fox, was missing. “That arrogant fox shows you no respect,” he told the lion. “You have been a just king for all these years, and he cannot even be bothered to visit.”
The fox arrived just in time to hear the last of the wolf’s words.
The lion was furious when he noticed the fox there, skulking at the back of the cave. The fox came forward, begging for a chance to explain herself. “I am late because I have travelled all the way to the Spice Islands, where the cinnamon grows, seeking a cure for your condition.”
“And what did you find?” the lion asked.
“The wise doctors there know of just one cure, and you will not like it. You must find a wolf, consume his flesh, and wrap yourself in his warm furs.”
The Moral
The Wolf, the Fox, and the Ailing Lion has two moral lessons. First, someone who schemes behind another’s back often falls into his own trap. Second, it is better to give your master a solution than a problem.
If you liked this story, there are a few more dark fables about vicious kings. You might like The Monkey and the Lion’s Breath, The Frog King and the Snake, and The Two Horses.