Today is "Blogging Against Disablism Day" on the Internet, when bloggers all over the world unite in their efforts to speak out against bigotry against people with disabilities (A link to the growing archive is at the end of this post). In honor of this day, this entry will be a little bit different than most of the pieces I've posted here in the last year. Instead of examining a single story for the expression of individual experience, I'll try to examine one of the roots of the bigotry itself.
---
When you grow up as a child with a disablity (even though no one ever tells you outright, in so many words), you grow up with the the feeling that when others look at you, they see some sort of monster -- a being somehow caught in a state between an actual person and an animal. You're shuffled off with other children into "special programs," and regardless of how different you are from each other, you're told by the well-meaning adults that you are all the same, and belong together.
Until just a few weeks ago, all I had to go on for this notion was a gut feeling, spurred by expressions of pity and fear that I've seen in mass media, old folktales, and the gaze of strangers when I go out in public. It was this gut feeling that prompted me to start writing this blog. And then, late last month, I learned the name "Isidore of Seville," and discovered that he had, in fact, put my gut feeling in precisely so many words.
Saint Isidore of Seville, Archbishop of Spain (d. 636), was considered one of the greatest thinkers and philosophers of his day. Shortly before his death, he compiled the Etymologiae, an attempt, in twenty books, to preserve the important Pagan learning of the late Roman and Greek civilizations, and link it with Christian theology. These books influenced philosophical and literary thought for nearly a thousand years onward. Book Eleven is dedicated to mankind, and concludes with a discussion of those humans who are born with marked differences, by God's Will, to be portents of the future.
Unfortunately, the only online version I could find is in the original Latin, so I've had to rely on Google Translate to make sense of it. Despite the mangled English Google presented to me in the translation, three passages hit me like punches:
First:
Quote: "A portent, therefore, happens not contrary to nature, but contrary to what we know as nature," unquote.
Ah! All the times, as a child, I'd been required to skip school, to go in for a doctor's appointment so my growth and development could be assessed against the "standard deviation --" so that my differences could be named and cataloged and written up in contrast to what is known to be "normal --" the modern, scientific word for "natural."
Second (the words in square brackets are rearranged from Google's translation):
Quote: "But these things are monsters, which are given in the signs and [do not live a long time, but they have been killed immediately as intended]" unquote.
And how many women have been counselled by their doctors, family, and "community support groups" to have an abortion if the results of an amniocentesis test comes back with unacceptable abnormalities?
And third (again, the words in square brackets are my own rearrangement):
Quote: "[However, there are things written on the transformation of men, and some monstrous beasts], just as that of the most famous sorceress Circe, who [is said to have] changed the companions of Ulysses, [into] wild beasts, and of the Arcadians, who, by lot, and [were thus] turned into wolves." Unquote.
And so was born the fairy tale motif of the enchanted human, turned into a monster by a wicked witch, waiting in lonely isolation for a prince or princess to break the spell with a kiss. This motif rears its sentimental head in every human interest story on the news, when reporters speak of "heroic efforts" to cure someone of their disability, whenever well-meaning aquaintances tell me that they "don't see [me] as disabled, but rather as a human being," -- a human form which is somehow hidden by the outer, "monstrous" shell of Disability, which hides my true nature, and separates me from God's Grace ("There, but for the Grace of God, go I").
In these fairy tales, the worthiness of the Hero, the purity of the Heroine, is judged by how much they are willing to sacrifice to rescue the enchanted victim, and return them to a fully human state. In real life, likewise, parents, siblings and spouses are judged on how much they are willing to sacrifice in order to cure the "afflicted patient." And if the "patients" themselves don't want to be cured, then they are accused, either directly or indirectly, of "giving up on life," as if life itself is only possible for those who are fully human.
But. ...Except: We are already fully human. If our form, if our way of being, falls outside what you understand is the True Order of Nature, then perhaps you need to expand your understanding, rather than try to narrow our existence.
Links:
Blogging Against Disablism Day at Diary of a Goldfish Blog -- a growing archive of all the posts: check it out.
Etymologiea of Isisdore, Book 11 (in Latin).
Isidore of Seville (Wikipedia Article)
Subscribe To "Plato's Nightmare / Aesop's Dream"
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Showing posts with label monster. Show all posts
Showing posts with label monster. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Hans-my-Hedgehog: when disabled children are hidden for shame
HANS-MY-HEDGEHOG
(A Grimms' Tale, retold from memory, from various translations)
Once, there lived a wealthy farmer, who had a fine house, and all the land and money he could want. But he had no children, and when he went into town, the other farmers were tease and mock him and ask what was wrong with him.
One day, this made him so angry that he came home and declared to his wife: "I will have a child, even if it is only a hedgehog!"
In due time, his wife did give birth. The baby was like a normal boy from the waist down, but his top half was exactly like a hedgehog. "Look what you've done!" the wife shouted. "You have cursed us with your foolish wishes!"
The father was too ashamed to take the child to the church for the christening, and the mother said they could never ask anyone to be the child's godfather "And there's nothing we can name him, anyway, but Hans-my-Hedgehog."
The pastor came to the house to christen the child. And he told them that because of its quills, it couldn't lie in a normal bed, but had to lie on a pile of straw, behind the stove. And the child couldn't be nursed, because its quills would prick its mother. So they put Hans-my-Hedgehog on the bed of straw behind the stove, and left him there.
And every day, the farmer wished his son would die. But that second wish did not come true, and Hans-my-Hedgehog continued to live and grow.
One day, when Hans-my-Hedgehog was eight years old, his father prepared to go to the market, to sell his goods, and buy supplies. First, he asked his wife what she wanted, and she said: "Some meat, and white flour buns, and these things for the household," and she gave him a list. Then, he asked his servant girl what she wanted from the market. "A pair of shoes," she answered, "and fine socks." And last of all, he looked behind the stove, and asked Hans-my-Hedgehog what he wanted. "Father," he said, "I would like a set of bagpipes."
When the father came back from the fair, he gave his wife the meat and rolls and household things. And he gave the servant girl her shoes and socks. And, last of all, he gave Hans-my-Hedgehog the bagpipes.
And then, his son said to him: "Father, I have one more favor to ask you. Please go to the farrier, and have him shoe my rooster. And if you will give me some pigs and asses, I will ride out into the world to seek my fortune, and never come back."
Well, the father was very glad to hear that, and thought that giving up a few swine and donkeys was a fair price to be rid of Hans-my-Hedgehog.
And so Hans-my-Hedgehog mounted his rooster, with his bagpipes under his arm, driving his herds of swine and donkeys before him. When he came to the middle of a great dark forest, he spurred his rooster to fly to the top bough of the highest tree, where he stayed, watching over his herds, and playing beautiful music on his bagpipes.
One day, after several years, a king and his party went hunting in that same forest, and they became lost. As they were wondering around, the king heard Hans-my-Hedgehog's bagpipes, and sent his servant to find out where it was coming from.
After a while, the servant came running back, terrified. "There's a monster in the top of the tallest tree," he said. "It is part rooster, and part hedgehog, and it is playing the bagpipes."
The king had his servant lead him to the tree, and he called up to Hans-my-Hedgehog. "What art thou doing?" the king demanded.
"I am watching over my herds," Hans-my-Hedgehog answered. "What would you have of me?"
"Do you know the way out of this forest?"
"I do."
"Then I would have thou showest me the way," the king said.
Hans-my-Hedgehog flew down from the tree, and told the king that he would show him the way if the promised to give Hans the first living thing who greeted him when he returned to his palace.
The king had parchment and pen brought to him, and he wrote out the contract. But he thought to himself: "Hans-my-Hedgehog cannot read, and so I can write down anything I want." And so he wrote down that Hans would get nothing.
Hans-my-Hedgehog took the parchment, and led the king out of the forest, all the way back to the main road into his kingdom. Then, he turned around and returned to his tree, to play his bagpipes and watch over his herds. And the king continued on to his palace.
And who should be the first to run out to greet him when he got there but his own daughter. And so the king had to confess the promise he had made. But then he added: "It is all right. Thou hast no need to worry -- I know that Hans-my-Hedgehog cannot read. So the contract I wrote up said that I would give him nothing."
And the Princess said that was good, for she would never have gone with such a monster at any rate. And they both laughed.
Many years passed, and Hans-my-Hedgehog's herds grew and prospered. And one day, another king came with his hunting party into the forest. And they, too, became hopelessly lost. He, too, heard Hans-my-Hedgehog's beautiful music, and sent his servant to find it.
After a long while, the servant came back, white-faced, and said there was a monster at the top of the highest tree, and that it was part rooster, and part hedgehog, and it was playing the bagpipes.
The king had his servant lead him to the tree. And then, he called up to him: "What art thou doing?"
"I am watching over my swine and donkeys," Hans-my-Hedgehog answered. "What would you have of me?"
"Dost thou know the way out of this forest?"
"I do."
"Then I would have thou showest me the way," the king said.
Hans-my-Hedgehog flew down from his tree, and said that he lead the king home if the king, promised, in return, to give him the first living creature that came to meet him on his return.
The king gave his word that he would. And Hans-my-Hedgehog led the way through the forest, all the way to the main highway leading to the king's palace.
And when he had done that, he returned to his tree, watching over his herds, and playing music on his bagpipes.
Meanwhile, as the second king returned to his castle, who should come out to greet him but his only daughter, who threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him. But then, she pulled back in surprise, and asked him why he was so sad.
And so the king had to tell her about the strange monster in the forest, who was half hedgehog and half human, and how he had promised this creature the first living thing to run out to greet him on his return, and how he was very sorry it was her.
The daughter sighed and said she was sorry, too, but that she would go with this monster, for his sake, for she loved him so.
Meanwhile, Hans-my-Hedgehog tended his swine and asses, and the herds prospered and grew so large, they filled the entire forest. Hans-my-Hedgehog sent word to his father that every stable in the village should be emptied, for he was bringing his herds back, and anyone who wanted to take part in the slaughter were free to do so.
His father was very sad at the news, for he had thought that Hans-my-Hedgehog had long since died. But he did as his son asked. And soon, Hans-my-Hedgehog came riding back on his rooster, driving the pigs and donkeys before him. The donkeys, he gave away. And the pig slaughter was so great, as every family in the village gathered meat for the winter, that the commotion could be heard for many miles around.
And then, Hans-my-Hedgehog decided it was time to try and collect his debt from the kings he had helped. And he rode to the country of the first king.
Now, this king had sent orders to his palace guards that if any creature matching Hans-my-Hedgehog's description should be seen approaching the castle, they should shoot him and stab him with their bayonets, and make sure he was dead.
But when Hans approached, and saw the army with all their guns and bayonets pointing at him, he merely spurred his rooster and flew over their heads. He flew until he came to the king's chamber window, and his rooster perched there on the sill. "Give me what you owe," Hans-my-Hedgehog said, "or I will kill both you and your daughter, as you have just tried to kill me."
And so the king had no choice but to go to his daughter, and tell her that she must go away with Hans-my-Hedgehog, to save both their lives.
So the daughter dressed in her finest gown, and went out to meet Hans-my-Hedgehog, and smiled at him, and praised him for his handsomeness. And the king gave them his finest coach, with six of his finest snow white steeds, and sent them off with a treasure chest of gold and jewels. And the princess climbed into the coach, and Hans-my-Hedgehog, still mounted on his rooster, rode in the seat beside her.
But when the coach was just a little of the way outside the kingdom, Hans-my-Hedgehog undressed the princess, and pricked her all over with his quills.
"That is punishment for your dishonesty," he said. "Go home. I do not want you."
And the princess went home to her father, but from that day forward, she was afflicted with bad luck.
Then Hans-my-Hedgehog rode on to the second kingdom, to try his fate there.
Now, the second king had sent orders to his palace guards that if anyone matching Hans-my-Hedgehog's description should be seen approaching that they should blow the trumpets and lead him onward with a full-honor military escort.
And as Hans-my-Hedgehog rode up, and the trumpets sounded, the king himself, with his daughter, went out to meet him, and welcome him into the palace.
The princess was horrified by Hans-my-Hedgehog's appearance, but she did not expect anything else. And at the banquet, Hans-my-Hedgehog sat between them at the table.
And after the meal, the royal chaplain married them hastily, and they prepared to retire to bed. Hans-my-Hedgehog told the princess not to worry. And then, he pulled the king aside and whispered to him that he should have four men-in-waiting stand outside the chamber door, for he would shed his hedgehog skin as he climbed into bed. He said the men should catch the skin before it hit the floor, and throw it onto the fire, and keep watch until the entire skin was burned to ashes.
The king had all this carried out according to Hans-my-Hedgehog's wishes. And in the morning they found him in the bed -- fully human, but burned as black as coal from head to foot. So the king called in his royal physician, who washed Hans with milk and healing salves, until his skin was as white as ivory, and he was as handsome to gaze upon as any man.
The princess, and all the royal family were overjoyed, and a grand royal wedding was celebrated for real, and Hans-my-Hedgehog inherited the kingdom after the old king died.
And then Hans-my-Hedgehog brought his wife back to his village, and went to his father's house. And he told him he was his son.
But his father said: "I had a son, but he died; he disappeared many years ago."
But Hans-my-Hedgehog managed to convince him that he was, in fact, his son. And his father rejoiced, and went back with him to live in the palace.
My tale is done;
To Gussie's house
Now let it run.
When I first encountered this fairy tale, almost thirty years ago, the overtones of the 'Disability Experience' struck me immediately. Especially in the detail of the pastor recommending that Hans-my-Hedgehog be kept behind the stove for the sake of the mother -- just as so many disabled children, through the generations, have been sent away to live in "Special homes," on the recommendations of doctors and other specialists.
Also, this tale reflects the bias that it is the disabled person's responsibility to resolve the conflicts they have with their family and the world by becoming cured -- it is only after he is made completely human that Hans returns to his father and is accepted (almost as if he were apologizing for being born ugly). There is a sort of parallel, here, with doctors who pressure parents to give their children drugs to control drooling, or to "encourage" their children to wear prosthetic limbs which have limited functionality, but make the child look more normal, in order to treat the "problem of teasing" -- instead of working to teach that teasing each other for our differences is wrong. It is this last detail of the "happy ending" of this story that makes it feel like a tragedy to me.
And, finally, in spite of all the gifts he'd given back to his community, in terms of both physical and artistic bounty, Hans-my-Hedgehog, like farmer's daughter in "The Girl Without Hands" had to be cured of his monstrousness before he could be truly married, or take his full place in human society.
Some other translations of this tale:
Hans-My-Hedgehog translated by D. L. Ashliman (trans. Copyright, 2000)
Hans-my-Hedgehog translated by Margaret Hunt (trans. 1884)
(A Grimms' Tale, retold from memory, from various translations)
Once, there lived a wealthy farmer, who had a fine house, and all the land and money he could want. But he had no children, and when he went into town, the other farmers were tease and mock him and ask what was wrong with him.
One day, this made him so angry that he came home and declared to his wife: "I will have a child, even if it is only a hedgehog!"
In due time, his wife did give birth. The baby was like a normal boy from the waist down, but his top half was exactly like a hedgehog. "Look what you've done!" the wife shouted. "You have cursed us with your foolish wishes!"
The father was too ashamed to take the child to the church for the christening, and the mother said they could never ask anyone to be the child's godfather "And there's nothing we can name him, anyway, but Hans-my-Hedgehog."
The pastor came to the house to christen the child. And he told them that because of its quills, it couldn't lie in a normal bed, but had to lie on a pile of straw, behind the stove. And the child couldn't be nursed, because its quills would prick its mother. So they put Hans-my-Hedgehog on the bed of straw behind the stove, and left him there.
And every day, the farmer wished his son would die. But that second wish did not come true, and Hans-my-Hedgehog continued to live and grow.
One day, when Hans-my-Hedgehog was eight years old, his father prepared to go to the market, to sell his goods, and buy supplies. First, he asked his wife what she wanted, and she said: "Some meat, and white flour buns, and these things for the household," and she gave him a list. Then, he asked his servant girl what she wanted from the market. "A pair of shoes," she answered, "and fine socks." And last of all, he looked behind the stove, and asked Hans-my-Hedgehog what he wanted. "Father," he said, "I would like a set of bagpipes."
When the father came back from the fair, he gave his wife the meat and rolls and household things. And he gave the servant girl her shoes and socks. And, last of all, he gave Hans-my-Hedgehog the bagpipes.
And then, his son said to him: "Father, I have one more favor to ask you. Please go to the farrier, and have him shoe my rooster. And if you will give me some pigs and asses, I will ride out into the world to seek my fortune, and never come back."
Well, the father was very glad to hear that, and thought that giving up a few swine and donkeys was a fair price to be rid of Hans-my-Hedgehog.
And so Hans-my-Hedgehog mounted his rooster, with his bagpipes under his arm, driving his herds of swine and donkeys before him. When he came to the middle of a great dark forest, he spurred his rooster to fly to the top bough of the highest tree, where he stayed, watching over his herds, and playing beautiful music on his bagpipes.
One day, after several years, a king and his party went hunting in that same forest, and they became lost. As they were wondering around, the king heard Hans-my-Hedgehog's bagpipes, and sent his servant to find out where it was coming from.
After a while, the servant came running back, terrified. "There's a monster in the top of the tallest tree," he said. "It is part rooster, and part hedgehog, and it is playing the bagpipes."
The king had his servant lead him to the tree, and he called up to Hans-my-Hedgehog. "What art thou doing?" the king demanded.
"I am watching over my herds," Hans-my-Hedgehog answered. "What would you have of me?"
"Do you know the way out of this forest?"
"I do."
"Then I would have thou showest me the way," the king said.
Hans-my-Hedgehog flew down from the tree, and told the king that he would show him the way if the promised to give Hans the first living thing who greeted him when he returned to his palace.
The king had parchment and pen brought to him, and he wrote out the contract. But he thought to himself: "Hans-my-Hedgehog cannot read, and so I can write down anything I want." And so he wrote down that Hans would get nothing.
Hans-my-Hedgehog took the parchment, and led the king out of the forest, all the way back to the main road into his kingdom. Then, he turned around and returned to his tree, to play his bagpipes and watch over his herds. And the king continued on to his palace.
And who should be the first to run out to greet him when he got there but his own daughter. And so the king had to confess the promise he had made. But then he added: "It is all right. Thou hast no need to worry -- I know that Hans-my-Hedgehog cannot read. So the contract I wrote up said that I would give him nothing."
And the Princess said that was good, for she would never have gone with such a monster at any rate. And they both laughed.
Many years passed, and Hans-my-Hedgehog's herds grew and prospered. And one day, another king came with his hunting party into the forest. And they, too, became hopelessly lost. He, too, heard Hans-my-Hedgehog's beautiful music, and sent his servant to find it.
After a long while, the servant came back, white-faced, and said there was a monster at the top of the highest tree, and that it was part rooster, and part hedgehog, and it was playing the bagpipes.
The king had his servant lead him to the tree. And then, he called up to him: "What art thou doing?"
"I am watching over my swine and donkeys," Hans-my-Hedgehog answered. "What would you have of me?"
"Dost thou know the way out of this forest?"
"I do."
"Then I would have thou showest me the way," the king said.
Hans-my-Hedgehog flew down from his tree, and said that he lead the king home if the king, promised, in return, to give him the first living creature that came to meet him on his return.
The king gave his word that he would. And Hans-my-Hedgehog led the way through the forest, all the way to the main highway leading to the king's palace.
And when he had done that, he returned to his tree, watching over his herds, and playing music on his bagpipes.
Meanwhile, as the second king returned to his castle, who should come out to greet him but his only daughter, who threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him. But then, she pulled back in surprise, and asked him why he was so sad.
And so the king had to tell her about the strange monster in the forest, who was half hedgehog and half human, and how he had promised this creature the first living thing to run out to greet him on his return, and how he was very sorry it was her.
The daughter sighed and said she was sorry, too, but that she would go with this monster, for his sake, for she loved him so.
Meanwhile, Hans-my-Hedgehog tended his swine and asses, and the herds prospered and grew so large, they filled the entire forest. Hans-my-Hedgehog sent word to his father that every stable in the village should be emptied, for he was bringing his herds back, and anyone who wanted to take part in the slaughter were free to do so.
His father was very sad at the news, for he had thought that Hans-my-Hedgehog had long since died. But he did as his son asked. And soon, Hans-my-Hedgehog came riding back on his rooster, driving the pigs and donkeys before him. The donkeys, he gave away. And the pig slaughter was so great, as every family in the village gathered meat for the winter, that the commotion could be heard for many miles around.
And then, Hans-my-Hedgehog decided it was time to try and collect his debt from the kings he had helped. And he rode to the country of the first king.
Now, this king had sent orders to his palace guards that if any creature matching Hans-my-Hedgehog's description should be seen approaching the castle, they should shoot him and stab him with their bayonets, and make sure he was dead.
But when Hans approached, and saw the army with all their guns and bayonets pointing at him, he merely spurred his rooster and flew over their heads. He flew until he came to the king's chamber window, and his rooster perched there on the sill. "Give me what you owe," Hans-my-Hedgehog said, "or I will kill both you and your daughter, as you have just tried to kill me."
And so the king had no choice but to go to his daughter, and tell her that she must go away with Hans-my-Hedgehog, to save both their lives.
So the daughter dressed in her finest gown, and went out to meet Hans-my-Hedgehog, and smiled at him, and praised him for his handsomeness. And the king gave them his finest coach, with six of his finest snow white steeds, and sent them off with a treasure chest of gold and jewels. And the princess climbed into the coach, and Hans-my-Hedgehog, still mounted on his rooster, rode in the seat beside her.
But when the coach was just a little of the way outside the kingdom, Hans-my-Hedgehog undressed the princess, and pricked her all over with his quills.
"That is punishment for your dishonesty," he said. "Go home. I do not want you."
And the princess went home to her father, but from that day forward, she was afflicted with bad luck.
Then Hans-my-Hedgehog rode on to the second kingdom, to try his fate there.
Now, the second king had sent orders to his palace guards that if anyone matching Hans-my-Hedgehog's description should be seen approaching that they should blow the trumpets and lead him onward with a full-honor military escort.
And as Hans-my-Hedgehog rode up, and the trumpets sounded, the king himself, with his daughter, went out to meet him, and welcome him into the palace.
The princess was horrified by Hans-my-Hedgehog's appearance, but she did not expect anything else. And at the banquet, Hans-my-Hedgehog sat between them at the table.
And after the meal, the royal chaplain married them hastily, and they prepared to retire to bed. Hans-my-Hedgehog told the princess not to worry. And then, he pulled the king aside and whispered to him that he should have four men-in-waiting stand outside the chamber door, for he would shed his hedgehog skin as he climbed into bed. He said the men should catch the skin before it hit the floor, and throw it onto the fire, and keep watch until the entire skin was burned to ashes.
The king had all this carried out according to Hans-my-Hedgehog's wishes. And in the morning they found him in the bed -- fully human, but burned as black as coal from head to foot. So the king called in his royal physician, who washed Hans with milk and healing salves, until his skin was as white as ivory, and he was as handsome to gaze upon as any man.
The princess, and all the royal family were overjoyed, and a grand royal wedding was celebrated for real, and Hans-my-Hedgehog inherited the kingdom after the old king died.
And then Hans-my-Hedgehog brought his wife back to his village, and went to his father's house. And he told him he was his son.
But his father said: "I had a son, but he died; he disappeared many years ago."
But Hans-my-Hedgehog managed to convince him that he was, in fact, his son. And his father rejoiced, and went back with him to live in the palace.
To Gussie's house
Now let it run.
When I first encountered this fairy tale, almost thirty years ago, the overtones of the 'Disability Experience' struck me immediately. Especially in the detail of the pastor recommending that Hans-my-Hedgehog be kept behind the stove for the sake of the mother -- just as so many disabled children, through the generations, have been sent away to live in "Special homes," on the recommendations of doctors and other specialists.
Also, this tale reflects the bias that it is the disabled person's responsibility to resolve the conflicts they have with their family and the world by becoming cured -- it is only after he is made completely human that Hans returns to his father and is accepted (almost as if he were apologizing for being born ugly). There is a sort of parallel, here, with doctors who pressure parents to give their children drugs to control drooling, or to "encourage" their children to wear prosthetic limbs which have limited functionality, but make the child look more normal, in order to treat the "problem of teasing" -- instead of working to teach that teasing each other for our differences is wrong. It is this last detail of the "happy ending" of this story that makes it feel like a tragedy to me.
And, finally, in spite of all the gifts he'd given back to his community, in terms of both physical and artistic bounty, Hans-my-Hedgehog, like farmer's daughter in "The Girl Without Hands" had to be cured of his monstrousness before he could be truly married, or take his full place in human society.
Some other translations of this tale:
Hans-My-Hedgehog translated by D. L. Ashliman (trans. Copyright, 2000)
Hans-my-Hedgehog translated by Margaret Hunt (trans. 1884)
Friday, July 15, 2011
The Squirrel and the Fox -- Awe and fear in the face of Disability
Before I share this story, a few comments on my "process."
I've known most of the stories here for many years. And, for the folktales, at least, I've read several different translations and versions. They fit my mind the way old fuzzy slippers fit my feet. As such, I feel as comfortable claiming them as "mine," and retelling them in my own words, as I would telling a remembered event in my own childhood.
This story is new to me. It was recommended to me for this blog by a friend, this spring, and I only got a chance to read it last month, in 1984 paperback reprint of a volume originally published in 1933.* The story was originally collected and translated by the linquist John Sampson at the end of the Nineteenth Century.
Folktales, at that time, were presented to the reading public unadulterated, ancient, and authentic And the role of the good folklorist was seen to be a mute and faithful recorder. I'm highly dubious of this claim, especially since the portrayals of the gypsy heroes in these tales conform to the privileged biases of the dominant culture, and show them to be simultaneously exotic, heroic, unsophisticated and slightly untrustworthy.
However, I have an even greater distrust of my own biases. And so, to ensure that I do not twist the tale, and give it meanings it was never intended to have, I present it here word-for-word from the book at hand; the only changes I've made are to substitute line breaks for pilcrows and the word "and" for ampersands.
THE SQUIRREL AND THE FOX
(A Welsh-Romany folktale, collected and translated by John Sampson)
There was a little village down in England, and two brothers living there. They were poor as poor could be: they knew not what to do.
They went seek for work, but no work could they find. Said one to the other: "There is a little old woman who lives down yonder in a small cave. Let us go thither. The old woman will tell us whether there is good fortune before us." "Yes, let us go," replied the other.
They came to the little dwelling, and hallooed to the old woman. The old woman knew they were coming and what they wanted. There was a great stone before the door. The old woman bade them drag away the stone. They dragged away the stone. "Carry me outside and set me on the stone, and I will tell you everything." The old woman had neither arms nor legs: thus she had been born.
"Hearken both of you to what I am going to tell you." Then quoth the armless one to Jack: "Here is a little stone for thee." (It was no bigger than a halfpenny.) "Keep this, and do not take it out of the handkerchief until thou comest to three roads."
The two brothers journeyed on. They reached these three cross-roads. They halted and Jack pulled the stone out of the handkerchief. He looked at it. One side was yellow as gold and the other side was back as coal.
"What are we to do with this stone?" he asked of his brother. No sooner was the word utteredthan he heard something whisper in his ear: "Spit upon it and toss it high in the air. If the stone fall at thy feet with the golden side uppermost, take the road on thy right hand; and if it fall with the black side uppermost, take the road on thy left hand."
He tossed the stone high into the air, and it fell at his feet with the golden side uppermost. Jack said to his brother: "Thou art to take the road on the left, and I will take the road on the right."
Now the two sat down and had a little talk together. "I go whither I go," quoth Jack. "Do thou remember to here to these three cross-roads in a year and a day; and if thou arrive before me wait here for me, and if I arrive before thee I will wait for thee, if I am still alive."
They set off. It was a hot summer's day. Jack tramped mile after mile. He could see no house, and night set in. He walked all night until morning broke. Now he hears dogs barking: he stood still to listen again.
He went on a little farther. He beheld a giant beside a tree, and heard a young woman weeping. She was crying out: "Stop, father! Leave me alone! do not treat me thus!" She was the giant's daughter. The giant was about to put a rope around her neck; he meant to hang her. The giant wished her to marry a certain man, but the young woman did not love him.
What did Jack do? Jack took the stone and threw it, and it struck the giant on the head and killed him.
What said the young woman to Jack? "If thou bury my father somewhere in a secret place where none may find him, I will give thee as much gold as you can carry away with thee." "Good!" quoth Jack, "I will lay him where none may find him.
He was about to bury him, when he found the little stone in the giant's head. He heard something whisper in his ear: "Leave him where he is, and place the stone at his left foot, and he will never be seen again."
Now they both went to the giant's house. The young woman opened a cupboard: in it were the giant's bags of gold. She gave one of them to Jack, who put it on his shoulder and departed.
Lo! he travels now over lofty mountains until he reaches the sea. He was weary, and the bag that he carried was heavy. He sat down and slept for three or four hours. He awoke and saw a man coming towards him with a great sack on his back.
The man came up to him. He recognized him. He stated to him: "Good God, thou art my brother!" "Yes, I am thy brother, and I am weary." He sat down and opened his great sack. "I am hungry. See, I am going to eat!" "And I am hungry, too," replied Jack. "Why dost thou not eat, then?" quoth the other. "I have naught to eat." "What is in thy sack?" "I have no food," said Jack, "I have nothing but gold." "Then if thou hast gold, buy thy food." "Gladly," quoth Jack, "give me my bellyful." "I will give thee thy bellyful if thou give me a hatful of gold."Jack opened his sack and filled his brother's hat with sovereigns. His brother gave him a little bread and meat.
The two tramped for miles and miles. They met no one; they grew hungry again. They sat down to eat. Jack was obliged to give his brother another hatful of gold before he would give him anything to eat.
And thus they went on until they rested again. They had not much food left. The brother would not give Jack anything to eat. "Thou hast all my money," quoth poor Jack, "I have no more; and if thou wilt not give me a morsel of food, I shall die of hunger." "No, I have told thee, I will give thee nothing except for thou pay for it." "I have nothing left to give thee." "I will tell thee what I will do will do with thee," quoth his brother. "Give me one of thine eyes and I will give thee a little food."
Jack plucked out one of his eyes and gave it to him. His brother gave him a litttle food. They finished their meal, and went on their way again.
Another day passed; Jack grew hungry once more. He was afraid to ask his brother to give him something to eat. Jack grew hungrier and hungrier. He asked his brother to give him a morsel of food. "Not I," quoth the brother, "I have not much left. If thou wantest any more, pluck out thine other eye and give it to me." He plucked out the other eye and gave it to his brother. His brother gave him a tiny morsel of food.
Poor Jack was blind now. The other brother took all the gold and left Jack alone. Jack knew not what to do. He crawled along on his hands and knees. He knew not whether it was day or whether it was night. He crept under a big tree. He did not care whether he lived or died. "If I am to die, I will die here."
Presently, he heard creatures talking in the tree above his head. And who were they? A Squirrel and a Fox talking together. These two were in the habit of meeting here once a twelvemonth to tell each other the chief discoveries they had made during the year.
Said the Fox to the Squirrel: "There is a great city four miles on the other side of the mountain, and all the people are dying of thirst. The water is dried up. And if they only knew it," continued the Fox, "were they to dig a well near the great clock they would find enough water to serve for three towns."
"And hast though heard, thou old Goose-stealer, that the mayor of that place lost his sight last week?" "Not I," quoth the Fox, "I have heard naught of it." The fox plucked a leaf. "Dost thou see this leaf, White-tail?" "Yes," quoth the squirrel. "What fools the people of those parts are! If they were just to rub his eyes with this leaf, he would recover his sight."
"Wait a minute, Sir Fox, I will tell you something." "Let me hear it," quoth the Fox. "In the same town there is a princess with two horns growing out of her forehead." "Well," quoth the Fox. "If they were to give her oranges, the horns would dwindle away. There is a reward offered by the queen to whomsoever rids her of them."
And the poor blind fellow beneath the three was listening to everything they said. Then the Fox leaped down and the Squirrel scampered after him.
Poor Jack arose and took a few of the leaves, and rubbed his eyes with them. As soon as he rubbed them, lo! he recovered his sight. He was astonished. "Well, I will be off to the city now."
He crossed the mountain and came to the hall where the blind lord dwelt. He knocked on the door and was invited inside. "I am a doctor come to restore the lord's eyesight."
He went upstairs. There was the lord seated in his easy-chair. Jack drew near to examine the lord's eyes. He boiled the leaves and bottled them, dipped a feather in the bottle, and passed it twice across the mayor's eyes. The lord regained his sight. His spirits rose, he did not know how to reward the doctor sufficiently. "What is thy fee, doctor?" quoth the mayor. He gave Jack what he asked.
"Wait a minute," quoth Jack, there is one other thing I should like to do before I leave the hall. I understand, my lord, that the water in your town is dried up." "In truth, it is dried up." "Come with me, and I will show you where there is plenty of water." As soon as the mayor heard this, he ran up to Jack and clasped him to his breast. "If thou find water for us, I will give thee three bags of gold pieces."
They went forth, and Jack led him toward the town clock. "Seest thou this spot? Bring thy men hither." "I will bring them at once." He brought them. "Now then," quoth Jack, "dig down here." The men stripped for the job. They dug down a little way. They found enough water for three towns. The mayor paid Jack, and Jack departed with the reward. He shrugged his shoulders. "I am doing well in this town, and I have still the king's daughter to deal with."
Then he bought a basketful of apples and a basketful of oranges, and set them down close by the gate of the palace. He waited there for three days. On the third day the old king and queen and their daughter came forth in their chariot. And the girl had two horns growing out of her head.
The young lady cast her eye on the apples. "Stay, mother, look at those beautiful apples over yonder!" "Would you like a few of them, daughter? "Yes," quoth the young lady. They bought a few. The young lady ate two or three that day. She arose in the morning. She looked in her mirror. The horns had grown bigger. The king's daughter was horrified.
Jack disguised himself again as a doctor, and went to visit her a day or two afterwards. "Welcome, doctor, I am rejoiced to see thee," quoth the princess. "Thou seest these horns on my forehead; dost thou know of aught that will reduce them?" "Yes." quoth Jack, "but though must give me such and such a sum of money." "Thou shalt have it," quoth the young lady.
Jack pulled an orange out of his pocket, cut a slice from it with his knife, and went up to the princess. "Open thy mouth, my lady, put out thy tongue." He placed the slice on the lady's tongue. "Swallow that. I will return to-morrow morning." The doctor took his leave.
Now it was morn. The young lady arose and looked in the mirror. Both horns seemed smaller. The doctor paid her another visit. The lady sprang up and gave him her hand. "The horns have shrunk a little, doctor." He gave her a slice of orange. "I shall come for my fee, your highness, in the morning."
She awoke in the morning and looked in her mirror. The horns had disappeared. The king and queen heard how the horns had been removed by the doctor. They gave him as much money as he could carry.
Jack took his money and went back to the three roads, where he was to meet his brother. It was midnight: he fell asleep under the hedge. In the morning he saw his brother approaching. "Who comes there?" "It is I," quoth his brother; "so thou art here before me, eh?" "What sort of luck hast thou had, my boy?" "I have gained naught, I am destitute, I have lost all my money. And how didst thou reach here, being blind?" "I have had better luck than thou," quoth Jack, "I have got new eyes, and a bag of money twice as big as the one though didst take when thou madest me blind."
So now the two brothers set off together to the cave to visit the old woman, the armless and legless one. They found her and rewarded her with a few gold pieces. And the thwo brothers went to their own little village and built a new house there. And there they live together with a little maid-servant, and now, they never fall out with one another.
That is all I know of about these two brothers. Find out more for yourselves if ye would.
There are two primary instances of disability in this tale: the old woman, who was born with neither arms nor legs, and the hero Jack, who is compelled to inflict blindness on himself. The princess with horns is a third instance, but the consequences of her affliction are not explored, outside the reward bestowed on Jack for the cure.
The old woman takes the ancient Roman idea of monstrum -- a creature born with missing or extra limbs, and seen as a bad omen -- one step further. She is more than a "sign" to be interpreted by seers; she is the seer. And while she is presented in the context of good luck, rather than bad, she is still kept away from human society, sealed away in the cave. In many ways, she is the personification of the Earth, itself, rather than a human -- like the stone on which she sits when first giving her prophecy to the brothers, and like the gold and black pebble through which she advises Jack.
Jack's trial with blindness is more a reflection of sighted society's fears than actual, lived, experience -- such as not knowing whether it is day or night without his eyes, and how being left alone and blind is equated with being left for dead. And the cure Jack learns of -- rubbing an herb over his eyes, when he no longer had eyes -- belies the sighted society's attitude that sight is more a spiritual than physical sense, thus making it easier to attribute moral and/or spiritual meaning to the state of blindness, itself.
However, I can't help but recognize one truth of life with a disability that's reflected in Jack's adventure: the fact that having a disability seems to cast a "Cloak of Invisability" over your shoulders, so those around you (like the Squirrel and Fox of the title) speak as freely as if you weren't there at all.
Since this is such a new story in my personal collection, I don't have deeper thoughts than that, at the moment. But I welcome your insights.
*Published in the United States by Salem House, 1984. A member of the Merrimack Publishers' Circle, 47 Pelham Road, Salem, N.H. 03079
I've known most of the stories here for many years. And, for the folktales, at least, I've read several different translations and versions. They fit my mind the way old fuzzy slippers fit my feet. As such, I feel as comfortable claiming them as "mine," and retelling them in my own words, as I would telling a remembered event in my own childhood.
This story is new to me. It was recommended to me for this blog by a friend, this spring, and I only got a chance to read it last month, in 1984 paperback reprint of a volume originally published in 1933.* The story was originally collected and translated by the linquist John Sampson at the end of the Nineteenth Century.
Folktales, at that time, were presented to the reading public unadulterated, ancient, and authentic And the role of the good folklorist was seen to be a mute and faithful recorder. I'm highly dubious of this claim, especially since the portrayals of the gypsy heroes in these tales conform to the privileged biases of the dominant culture, and show them to be simultaneously exotic, heroic, unsophisticated and slightly untrustworthy.
However, I have an even greater distrust of my own biases. And so, to ensure that I do not twist the tale, and give it meanings it was never intended to have, I present it here word-for-word from the book at hand; the only changes I've made are to substitute line breaks for pilcrows and the word "and" for ampersands.
THE SQUIRREL AND THE FOX
(A Welsh-Romany folktale, collected and translated by John Sampson)
There was a little village down in England, and two brothers living there. They were poor as poor could be: they knew not what to do.
They went seek for work, but no work could they find. Said one to the other: "There is a little old woman who lives down yonder in a small cave. Let us go thither. The old woman will tell us whether there is good fortune before us." "Yes, let us go," replied the other.
They came to the little dwelling, and hallooed to the old woman. The old woman knew they were coming and what they wanted. There was a great stone before the door. The old woman bade them drag away the stone. They dragged away the stone. "Carry me outside and set me on the stone, and I will tell you everything." The old woman had neither arms nor legs: thus she had been born.
"Hearken both of you to what I am going to tell you." Then quoth the armless one to Jack: "Here is a little stone for thee." (It was no bigger than a halfpenny.) "Keep this, and do not take it out of the handkerchief until thou comest to three roads."
The two brothers journeyed on. They reached these three cross-roads. They halted and Jack pulled the stone out of the handkerchief. He looked at it. One side was yellow as gold and the other side was back as coal.
"What are we to do with this stone?" he asked of his brother. No sooner was the word utteredthan he heard something whisper in his ear: "Spit upon it and toss it high in the air. If the stone fall at thy feet with the golden side uppermost, take the road on thy right hand; and if it fall with the black side uppermost, take the road on thy left hand."
He tossed the stone high into the air, and it fell at his feet with the golden side uppermost. Jack said to his brother: "Thou art to take the road on the left, and I will take the road on the right."
Now the two sat down and had a little talk together. "I go whither I go," quoth Jack. "Do thou remember to here to these three cross-roads in a year and a day; and if thou arrive before me wait here for me, and if I arrive before thee I will wait for thee, if I am still alive."
They set off. It was a hot summer's day. Jack tramped mile after mile. He could see no house, and night set in. He walked all night until morning broke. Now he hears dogs barking: he stood still to listen again.
He went on a little farther. He beheld a giant beside a tree, and heard a young woman weeping. She was crying out: "Stop, father! Leave me alone! do not treat me thus!" She was the giant's daughter. The giant was about to put a rope around her neck; he meant to hang her. The giant wished her to marry a certain man, but the young woman did not love him.
What did Jack do? Jack took the stone and threw it, and it struck the giant on the head and killed him.
What said the young woman to Jack? "If thou bury my father somewhere in a secret place where none may find him, I will give thee as much gold as you can carry away with thee." "Good!" quoth Jack, "I will lay him where none may find him.
He was about to bury him, when he found the little stone in the giant's head. He heard something whisper in his ear: "Leave him where he is, and place the stone at his left foot, and he will never be seen again."
Now they both went to the giant's house. The young woman opened a cupboard: in it were the giant's bags of gold. She gave one of them to Jack, who put it on his shoulder and departed.
Lo! he travels now over lofty mountains until he reaches the sea. He was weary, and the bag that he carried was heavy. He sat down and slept for three or four hours. He awoke and saw a man coming towards him with a great sack on his back.
The man came up to him. He recognized him. He stated to him: "Good God, thou art my brother!" "Yes, I am thy brother, and I am weary." He sat down and opened his great sack. "I am hungry. See, I am going to eat!" "And I am hungry, too," replied Jack. "Why dost thou not eat, then?" quoth the other. "I have naught to eat." "What is in thy sack?" "I have no food," said Jack, "I have nothing but gold." "Then if thou hast gold, buy thy food." "Gladly," quoth Jack, "give me my bellyful." "I will give thee thy bellyful if thou give me a hatful of gold."Jack opened his sack and filled his brother's hat with sovereigns. His brother gave him a little bread and meat.
The two tramped for miles and miles. They met no one; they grew hungry again. They sat down to eat. Jack was obliged to give his brother another hatful of gold before he would give him anything to eat.
And thus they went on until they rested again. They had not much food left. The brother would not give Jack anything to eat. "Thou hast all my money," quoth poor Jack, "I have no more; and if thou wilt not give me a morsel of food, I shall die of hunger." "No, I have told thee, I will give thee nothing except for thou pay for it." "I have nothing left to give thee." "I will tell thee what I will do will do with thee," quoth his brother. "Give me one of thine eyes and I will give thee a little food."
Jack plucked out one of his eyes and gave it to him. His brother gave him a litttle food. They finished their meal, and went on their way again.
Another day passed; Jack grew hungry once more. He was afraid to ask his brother to give him something to eat. Jack grew hungrier and hungrier. He asked his brother to give him a morsel of food. "Not I," quoth the brother, "I have not much left. If thou wantest any more, pluck out thine other eye and give it to me." He plucked out the other eye and gave it to his brother. His brother gave him a tiny morsel of food.
Poor Jack was blind now. The other brother took all the gold and left Jack alone. Jack knew not what to do. He crawled along on his hands and knees. He knew not whether it was day or whether it was night. He crept under a big tree. He did not care whether he lived or died. "If I am to die, I will die here."
Presently, he heard creatures talking in the tree above his head. And who were they? A Squirrel and a Fox talking together. These two were in the habit of meeting here once a twelvemonth to tell each other the chief discoveries they had made during the year.
Said the Fox to the Squirrel: "There is a great city four miles on the other side of the mountain, and all the people are dying of thirst. The water is dried up. And if they only knew it," continued the Fox, "were they to dig a well near the great clock they would find enough water to serve for three towns."
"And hast though heard, thou old Goose-stealer, that the mayor of that place lost his sight last week?" "Not I," quoth the Fox, "I have heard naught of it." The fox plucked a leaf. "Dost thou see this leaf, White-tail?" "Yes," quoth the squirrel. "What fools the people of those parts are! If they were just to rub his eyes with this leaf, he would recover his sight."
"Wait a minute, Sir Fox, I will tell you something." "Let me hear it," quoth the Fox. "In the same town there is a princess with two horns growing out of her forehead." "Well," quoth the Fox. "If they were to give her oranges, the horns would dwindle away. There is a reward offered by the queen to whomsoever rids her of them."
And the poor blind fellow beneath the three was listening to everything they said. Then the Fox leaped down and the Squirrel scampered after him.
Poor Jack arose and took a few of the leaves, and rubbed his eyes with them. As soon as he rubbed them, lo! he recovered his sight. He was astonished. "Well, I will be off to the city now."
He crossed the mountain and came to the hall where the blind lord dwelt. He knocked on the door and was invited inside. "I am a doctor come to restore the lord's eyesight."
He went upstairs. There was the lord seated in his easy-chair. Jack drew near to examine the lord's eyes. He boiled the leaves and bottled them, dipped a feather in the bottle, and passed it twice across the mayor's eyes. The lord regained his sight. His spirits rose, he did not know how to reward the doctor sufficiently. "What is thy fee, doctor?" quoth the mayor. He gave Jack what he asked.
"Wait a minute," quoth Jack, there is one other thing I should like to do before I leave the hall. I understand, my lord, that the water in your town is dried up." "In truth, it is dried up." "Come with me, and I will show you where there is plenty of water." As soon as the mayor heard this, he ran up to Jack and clasped him to his breast. "If thou find water for us, I will give thee three bags of gold pieces."
They went forth, and Jack led him toward the town clock. "Seest thou this spot? Bring thy men hither." "I will bring them at once." He brought them. "Now then," quoth Jack, "dig down here." The men stripped for the job. They dug down a little way. They found enough water for three towns. The mayor paid Jack, and Jack departed with the reward. He shrugged his shoulders. "I am doing well in this town, and I have still the king's daughter to deal with."
Then he bought a basketful of apples and a basketful of oranges, and set them down close by the gate of the palace. He waited there for three days. On the third day the old king and queen and their daughter came forth in their chariot. And the girl had two horns growing out of her head.
The young lady cast her eye on the apples. "Stay, mother, look at those beautiful apples over yonder!" "Would you like a few of them, daughter? "Yes," quoth the young lady. They bought a few. The young lady ate two or three that day. She arose in the morning. She looked in her mirror. The horns had grown bigger. The king's daughter was horrified.
Jack disguised himself again as a doctor, and went to visit her a day or two afterwards. "Welcome, doctor, I am rejoiced to see thee," quoth the princess. "Thou seest these horns on my forehead; dost thou know of aught that will reduce them?" "Yes." quoth Jack, "but though must give me such and such a sum of money." "Thou shalt have it," quoth the young lady.
Jack pulled an orange out of his pocket, cut a slice from it with his knife, and went up to the princess. "Open thy mouth, my lady, put out thy tongue." He placed the slice on the lady's tongue. "Swallow that. I will return to-morrow morning." The doctor took his leave.
Now it was morn. The young lady arose and looked in the mirror. Both horns seemed smaller. The doctor paid her another visit. The lady sprang up and gave him her hand. "The horns have shrunk a little, doctor." He gave her a slice of orange. "I shall come for my fee, your highness, in the morning."
She awoke in the morning and looked in her mirror. The horns had disappeared. The king and queen heard how the horns had been removed by the doctor. They gave him as much money as he could carry.
Jack took his money and went back to the three roads, where he was to meet his brother. It was midnight: he fell asleep under the hedge. In the morning he saw his brother approaching. "Who comes there?" "It is I," quoth his brother; "so thou art here before me, eh?" "What sort of luck hast thou had, my boy?" "I have gained naught, I am destitute, I have lost all my money. And how didst thou reach here, being blind?" "I have had better luck than thou," quoth Jack, "I have got new eyes, and a bag of money twice as big as the one though didst take when thou madest me blind."
So now the two brothers set off together to the cave to visit the old woman, the armless and legless one. They found her and rewarded her with a few gold pieces. And the thwo brothers went to their own little village and built a new house there. And there they live together with a little maid-servant, and now, they never fall out with one another.
That is all I know of about these two brothers. Find out more for yourselves if ye would.
There are two primary instances of disability in this tale: the old woman, who was born with neither arms nor legs, and the hero Jack, who is compelled to inflict blindness on himself. The princess with horns is a third instance, but the consequences of her affliction are not explored, outside the reward bestowed on Jack for the cure.
The old woman takes the ancient Roman idea of monstrum -- a creature born with missing or extra limbs, and seen as a bad omen -- one step further. She is more than a "sign" to be interpreted by seers; she is the seer. And while she is presented in the context of good luck, rather than bad, she is still kept away from human society, sealed away in the cave. In many ways, she is the personification of the Earth, itself, rather than a human -- like the stone on which she sits when first giving her prophecy to the brothers, and like the gold and black pebble through which she advises Jack.
Jack's trial with blindness is more a reflection of sighted society's fears than actual, lived, experience -- such as not knowing whether it is day or night without his eyes, and how being left alone and blind is equated with being left for dead. And the cure Jack learns of -- rubbing an herb over his eyes, when he no longer had eyes -- belies the sighted society's attitude that sight is more a spiritual than physical sense, thus making it easier to attribute moral and/or spiritual meaning to the state of blindness, itself.
However, I can't help but recognize one truth of life with a disability that's reflected in Jack's adventure: the fact that having a disability seems to cast a "Cloak of Invisability" over your shoulders, so those around you (like the Squirrel and Fox of the title) speak as freely as if you weren't there at all.
Since this is such a new story in my personal collection, I don't have deeper thoughts than that, at the moment. But I welcome your insights.
*Published in the United States by Salem House, 1984. A member of the Merrimack Publishers' Circle, 47 Pelham Road, Salem, N.H. 03079
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