Hello and welcome to Fairy Tale Friday. Are you
sitting comfortably? Good. Then I’ll begin.
This week we look at a tale from Scotland collected by
Australian folklorist Joseph Jacobs. Jacobs
was fascinated by English fairy tales and folk tales and popularised tales like
Goldilocks and the Three Bears and The Three Little Pigs. This story comes from
Celtic Fairy Tales published in 1892.
This tale is really interesting. Instead of a magic
mirror we have a trout in a well who tells our mother Silver-Tree that her
daughter Gold-Tree is more beautiful. Again, we have a real mother, not
stepmother here. She says to her husband—the father of their child—that she
must eat the child’s heart and liver, or she will never be well. Many men would
be all upset saying “I am not killing my beautiful daughter just because you
ask me to!” But this father just decides to marry his daughter off to someone far
away so as not to confront his wife—the mother of their child—about this weird cannibalism
she has planned. He then kills a goat and feeds it to her, and she is suddenly
cured from her pretend illness.
The next year Silver-Tree asks the trout who is the
most beautiful and finds out her daughter is alive, just married off to a
faraway prince. She decides she would like to go and visit her daughter and her
husband willingly put the long-ship in order and let her set sail. I
despise weak fathers in these stories who do not fight tooth and nail for their
daughters. Her daughter is wiser, for as soon as she recognises her father’s
long-ship and rightly declares, "my
mother is coming, and she will kill me." She locks herself in a room
but he mother convinces her to stick her pinkie through the keyhole for her to
kiss it and you guessed it—poisons her by stabbing her finger.
Now here is where it gets freaky. Her husband comes
home and finds her dead but because she is so beautiful he did not bury her
at all, but he locked her in a room where nobody would get near her. Then
he remarried and told his new wife not to go in the secret locked room because if
you do, you’ll find out that it contains my dead first wife. Here we veer in
Bluebeard territory, although he didn’t kill her, he still keeps her corpse in
the house and tells his wife not to go in there. But she does go in there and
finds the body of his first wife, which she revives by taking the poison stab
out of her finger. Now, I don’t know why the man who loved her could not find something
sticking out of her finger that didn’t belong but instead locked her dead body in
a room in his house. Unlike Bluebeard, he is delighted that Gold-Tree is alive
again and declares to his second wife in a surprising twist of polygamy, "Oh!
indeed you shall not go away, but I shall have both of you."
Remarks by Joseph Jacobs:
It is unlikely, I should say impossible, that this tale, with the incident
of the dormant heroine, should have arisen independently in the Highlands; it
is not likely an importation from abroad. Yet in it occurs a most
"primitive" incident, the bigamous household of the hero.... On the
"survival" method of investigation this would possibly be used as
evidence for polygamy in the Highlands. Yet if, as is probably, the story came
from abroad, this trait may have come with it, and only implies polygamy in the
original home of the tale.
Then her mother upon finding Gold-Tree alive again,
boards a long-ship from home and comes to her with the flimsy premise of bringing
her daughter a precious drink. Which is fooling no one, I assure you.
The second wife manages to outwit the evil mother and kill her (Hoorah!) and the
prince and his two wives were long alive after this, pleased and peaceful.
Yeah. I bet they did.
Gold-Tree
and Silver-Tree
Once upon a time there was a king who had
a wife, whose name was Silver-Tree, and a daughter, whose name was Gold-Tree.
On a certain day of the days, Gold-Tree and Silver-Tree went to a glen, where
there was a well, and in it there was a trout.
Said Silver-Tree, "Troutie, bonny
little fellow, am not I the most beautiful queen in the world?"
"Oh! indeed you are not."
"Who then?"
"Why, Gold-Tree, your daughter."
Silver-Tree went home, blind with rage.
She lay down on the bed and vowed she would never be well until she could get
the heart and the liver of Gold-Tree, her daughter, to eat.
At nightfall the king came home, and it
was told him that Silver-Tree, his wife, was very ill. He went where she was and
asked her what was wrong with her.
"Oh! only a thing which you may heal
if you like."
"Oh! indeed there is nothing at all
which I could do for you that I would not do."
"If I get the heart and the liver of
Gold-Tree, my daughter, to eat, I shall be well."
Now it happened about this time that the
son of a great king had come from abroad to ask Gold-Tree for marrying. The
king now agreed to this, and they went abroad.
The king then went and sent his lads to
the hunting hill for a he goat, and he gave its heart and its liver to his wife
to eat; and she rose well and healthy.
A year after this Silver-Tree went to the
glen, where there was the well in which there was the trout.
"Troutie, bonny little fellow,"
said she, "am not I the most beautiful queen in the world?"
"Oh! indeed you are not."
"Who then?"
"Why, Gold-Tree, your daughter."
"Oh! well, it is long since she was
living. It is a year since I ate her heart and liver."
"Oh! indeed she is not dead. She is
married to a great prince abroad."
Silver-Tree went home and begged the king
to put the long-ship in order, and said, "I am going to see my dear
Gold-Tree, for it is so long since I saw her." The long-ship was put in
order, and they went away.
It was Silver-Tree herself that was at the
helm, and she steered the ship so well that they were not long at all before
they arrived.
The prince was out hunting on the hills.
Gold-Tree knew the long-ship of her father coming.
"Oh!" said she to the servants, "my mother is coming, and she will kill me."
"She shall not kill you at all; we
will lock you in a room where she cannot get near you."
This is how it was done; and when
Silver-Tree came ashore, she began to cry out, "Come to meet your own
mother, when she comes to see you."
Gold-Tree said that she could not, that
she was locked in the room, and that she could not get out of it.
"Will you not put out," said
Silver-Tree, "your little finger through the keyhole, so that your own
mother may give a kiss to it?"
She put out her little finger, and
Silver-Tree went and put a poisoned stab in it, and Gold-Tree fell dead.
When the prince came home, and found
Gold-Tree dead, he was in great sorrow, and when he saw how beautiful she was,
he did not bury her at all, but he locked her in a room where nobody would get
near her.
In the course of time he married again,
and the whole house was under the hand of this wife but one room, and he
himself always kept the key of that room. On a certain day of the days her
forgot to take the key with him, and the second wife got into the room. What
did she see there but the most beautiful woman that she ever saw.
She began to turn and try to wake her, and
she noticed the poisoned stab in her finger. She took the stab out, and
Gold-Tree rose alive, as beautiful as she was ever.
At the fall of night the prince came home
from the hunting hill, looking very downcast.
"What gift," said his wife,
"would you give me that I could make you laugh?"
"Oh! indeed, nothing could make me
laugh, except Gold-Tree were to come alive again."
"Well, you'll find her alive down
there in the room."
When the prince saw Gold-Tree alive her
made great rejoicings, and he began to kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her.
Said the second wife, "Since she is the first one you had it is better for
you to stick to her, and I will go away."
"Oh! indeed you
shall not go away, but I shall have both of you."
At the end of the year, Silver-Tree went
to the glen, where there was the well, in which there was the trout.
"Troutie, bonny little fellow,"
said she, "am not I the most beautiful queen in the world?"
"Oh! indeed you are not."
"Who then?"
"Why Gold-Tree, your daughter."
"Oh! well, she is not alive. It is a
year since I put the poisoned stab into her finger."
"Oh! indeed she is not dead at all,
at all."
Silver-Tree went home and begged the king
to put the long-ship in order, for that she was going to see her dear
Gold-Tree, as it was so long since she saw her. The long-ship was put in order,
and they went away. It was Silver-Tree herself that was at the helm, and she
steered the ship so well that they were not long at all before they arrived.
The prince was out hunting on the hills.
Gold-Tree knew her father's ship coming.
"Oh!" said she, "my mother
is coming, and she will kill me."
"Not at all," said the second
wife; "we will go down to meet her."
Silver-Tree came ashore. "Come down,
Gold tree, love," said she, "for your own mother has come to you with
a precious drink."
"It is a custom in this
country," said the second wife, "that the person who offers a drink
takes a draught out of it first."
Silver-Tree put her mouth to it, and the
second wife went and struck it so that some of it went down her throat, and she
fell dead. They had only to carry her home a dead corpse and bury her.
The prince and his two
wives were long alive after this, pleased and peaceful.
I left them there.
That’s all for this week. Stay tuned next week for a
tale from Louisiana.
"Which was cooking no one, I assure you." That cracked me up.
ReplyDeleteIt sounds somewhat like an Appalachian story that I learned from a storyteller during a program at The Mountain.
This comment has been removed by the author.
Deletefooling, not cooking. Dadgum spell check!
DeleteSounds vaguely familiar to some ScotsIrish origin Apalachian folk takes I heard at a Mountain workshop.
ReplyDelete