Drift off with A Moral Little Tale by Lord Dunsany, a short, witty and thought-provoking fable about joy, dancing and the people who would forbid them, read aloud by Martin Hewlett on Books at Bedtime, the sleep story series from Calming Anxiety.
There was once an earnest Puritan who held it wrong to dance, and for his principles he laboured hard. He discouraged dancing, helped to close Sunday entertainments, disapproved of fanciful poetry and always dressed in black. Everyone respected his honest face and his flowing white beard, and agreed he was a good man by his own lights.
Then one night, a most unexpected visitor appears to him in a dream and says, "Well done." What follows is a sharp and surprising conversation about laughter and music, butterflies on sunny hillsides, the warm west wind, village couples whispering under the harvest moon, and who really made them all. In just a few minutes, Dunsany turns everything the earnest man believed upside down.
The story
Transcribed from the audio, so the odd word may be off. Tap any line while it plays to keep the words in step with Martin's voice.
Books at bedtime by Carmen Anxiety, a moral little tale by Lord Dunciny.
There was once an earnest Puritan who held it wrong to d'arm, and for his principles he laboured hard. His was a zealous life, and there loved him all of those who hated the d'arm, and those that loved the d'arm, respected him too. They said, "He is a pure, good man, an axe according to his lights." He did much to discourage dancing, and helped to close several Sunday entertainment.
Some kinds of poetry, he said, "He liked, but not the fanciful kind, as that might corrupt the thoughts of the very young." And he always dressed in black. He was quite interested in morality, and was quite sincere, and there grew to be much respect of the earth for his honest face, and his flowing, pure white beard. One night, the devil appeared unto him in a dream and said, "Well done."
"Avant," said Ernest Batman. "No, no friend," said the devil. "Dare not, to call me friend," he answered bravely. "Come, come friend," said the devil.
Have you not done my work? Have you not put apart the couples that were dance? Have you not checked their laughter and their accursed mirth? Have you not worn my livery of black?
Oh, friend, friend, you do not know what a detestable thing it is to sit in hell and hear people being happy, and singing in theatres, and singing in the fields. And whispering after dance is under the moon, and he fell to cursing fearfully.
It is you, said the Puritan, that put into their hearts the evil desire to dance, and black is God's own livery, not yours. And the devil, the devil laughed contemptuously and spoke. He only made the silly colors, he said, and useless dawns on hill slopes basing south, and butterflies flapping along them as soon as the sun rose high. And foolish maiden, coming out to dance, and the warm mad west wind, and worst of all, the pernicious influence of love.
And when the devil said that God made love, that earnest man, he sat up in bed and shouted, "Bless for me, blas for me." "It's true," said the devil. It isn't I that send the village fools muttering and whispering two by two in the woods, when the harvest moon is high. It's as much as I can bear even to see them dancing.
"Then," said the man, "I have mistaken right for wrong, but as soon as I wake, I will fight you yet." "Oh no, you don't," said the devil. You don't wake up out of this sleep, and somewhere far away, hell's black steel doors were opened, and arm in arm, those two were drawn within, and the doors shut behind them, and still they went in arm in arm, trudging further and further into the depths of hell.
And it was that the Puritans' punishment to know that those who he cared for in earth would do devil as he had done. [MUSIC]