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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780752470313 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | The History Press |
| Publication date: | 09/16/2011 |
| Series: | Folk Tales |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 192 |
| File size: | 580 KB |
| Age Range: | 12 Years |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Derbyshire Folk Tales
By Pete Castle
The History Press
Copyright © 2011 Pete CastleAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7524-7031-3
CHAPTER 1
Tales of Love and Lovers
This is one of the longest sections in this book and some of the other stories could have been included here too. You could almost say that most traditional stories deal with love (or its opposite) in one form or another.
Here we have tales of true love, tales where love conquers against all difficulties, thwarted love and lovers betrayed.
Most of the best love songs and stories have some element of distress in them, as shown by the apocryphal story of the pop star who went to his manager full of anguish and broken hearted and told him 'My woman has run off with my best friend!' The manager rubbed his hands and said, 'So we'll be getting some good new songs for the next album then!'
LIKE MEAT LOVES SALT
I am often asked, 'What is your favourite story?' I usually reply that I like them all or I wouldn't tell them, but there are some for which I definitely have a soft spot. This is one of my favourite Derbyshire stories – and probably one of my favourites out of all that I tell.
It started as a very short fragment, so when I decided to tell it I had to complete it and since then it has grown in repeated tellings. It is a strange but lovely tale which starts like King Lear but finishes like Cinderella! The ending is guaranteed to get an 'Aaah!' from the audience.
There was once a man who had three daughters and one day he did one of those things which no one in their right mind would do – he sat his daughters down and he asked them each in turn how much they loved him. Now you'd know that was going to lead to trouble wouldn't you? Somebody was sure to get hurt!
First he turned to his eldest daughter and said, 'How much do you love me, my dear?'
She replied, 'Father, I love you more then the sun and the moon and the stars and the universe and everything!' And that pleased him.
Then he turned to his middle daughter, 'How much do you love me, my dear?'
'Father, I love you more than I love my own life', she said. And that pleased him too.
So then it was the turn of his youngest daughter, and his youngest daughter was really his favourite even though he didn't like to admit it – even to himself. 'How much do you love me, my dear?' he asked.
She thought for a while and then said, 'Father, I love you like meat loves salt'. And he didn't understand that at all.
'Meat? Salt? We have meat every day', he thought. 'Salt? You can buy a big block of salt for a few pence ... You don't love me at all, you ungrateful girl. Get out! Go away! I never want to see you again!' he shouted, and he banished her there and then from his house, with just the clothes she was wearing.
She wandered across the countryside until she came across a young gentleman who had been out riding and had had an accident. He'd been thrown from his horse and was lying on the ground more dead than alive. She was able to go and fetch water from a stream and revive him.
When he opened his eyes, he didn't know where he was and he didn't remember what had happened. All he was aware of was a beautiful face bending over him and comforting him and he knew that this creature had saved his life. He didn't know who it was, or what it was. Was it a fairy or a wood nymph? Had he died and gone to Heaven? Was it an angel? Or was it a young woman? Whoever, or whatever, she was, he instantly fell deeply in love with her and he took the ring from his finger and gave it to her.
As soon as she saw that he was going to be alright, she gathered up her skirts and ran off, leaving the young gentleman to gather his wits and climb back on his horse and turn its head towards his home.
The horse knew the way and with every step it took, the young man fell more and more deeply in love with the mysterious young woman who had saved his life. So much so that when he got home all he could do was to take to his bed and stay there dying of love-sickness. He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep, he didn't wash himself or comb his hair. He could think of nothing but the young woman. He lay there with that hollow, empty feeling in his chest as though his heart had been wrenched out and his whole self with it.
Who was the mysterious young woman he was in love with? How was he going to find her again? That was all he could think about.
Meanwhile ... she wandered across the countryside for several more days until she came to a big house and she plucked up the courage to go to the back door and beg a bite of food to eat and some water to drink; and because the people were kind to her she dared to ask whether there was a job going, for now she was banished from her father's house she had to find some way of supporting herself. She was given a job as the lowliest kitchen maid, the skivvy; the one who had to get up first in the morning to light the fires to heat the water before anyone else got up; the one that had all the dirtiest pots and pans to clean out. It wasn't what she was used to but it wasn't too bad.
Over the next few days, just by listening to what the other servants were gossiping about, she pieced together the story that somewhere upstairs in the house was the young master who had had an accident when he was out riding. His life had been saved by some mysterious young woman whom he had fallen madly in love with, and now he was dying of a broken heart and no one could think of a way to find the young woman and so save his life and make him happy.
The next time the cook prepared some broth for the invalid, the young woman persuaded the 'tweeny', the servant who usually did the running up and down stairs, to let her take it up to the young man. She quickly wiped her face and hands but couldn't get rid of all the dirt and grime which had built up. As she was going up the stairs she slipped the ring he had given to her into the bowl.
The young invalid wasn't interested in broth, he wasn't interested in anything except finding his true love, but she persuaded him that he had to have a little of the soup. He ate a couple of mouthfuls without thinking and then the spoon clinked on something in the bottom of the bowl. He fished it out. It was his ring, the one he had given to the girl in the forest. 'Where did you get this ring?' he demanded.
'From him who it belongs to', she answered.
Up to this point he hadn't taken any notice of the servant girl who had brought the soup. (Those of you who have servants know that they are invisible, just like pieces of furniture!) But at that he stopped and looked at her, and he saw through the dirt and the grime. They fell into each other's arms and before many minutes had passed a wedding had been arranged!
As the bride at the wedding it was her privilege to arrange the food, so she told the cook that she didn't mind what was served but that it must all be prepared without any salt.
'I can't do that!' spluttered the cook. 'Just think what everyone would say. No one would eat it. It would be horrible! I have my reputation to think of. I'm a good cook and people recognise that. I won't do it!' But the bride insisted.
On the day of the wedding everyone from all around was invited, including the man with three daughters with whom we started the story. He knew who the groom was to be and felt honoured to have been asked to the wedding, but he had no idea about the identity of the bride. When the ceremony was over everyone took their places in the great hall for the wedding feast. There were rows and rows of tables and the guests were arranged along them in order of importance. At the front of the hall, at right angles to the others, was the table for the wedding party. When everyone was seated the food was served and everyone started to eat, but after a few mouthfuls the room began to hum with the sound of grumbling and complaining. There was a great deal of spluttering and grimacing. 'There's no salt in the food!', 'What's the cook thinking of?', 'We can't eat this ...' Then, amidst all the complaining and mumbling, an old man seated at the back of the room stood up and let out a loud wail, 'O woe is me!' he cried. 'Once upon a time I had a daughter and I asked her how much she loved me and she said she loved me like meat loves salt. I didn't understand what she meant and I sent her away. She's probably been taken by bandits or eaten by wild beasts and I'll never see her again ...'
Everyone was shocked and the room fell silent. Then the young bride rose to her feet and walked down the room and embraced her father. And the two of them were reconciled.
And they all lived happily ever after.
THE GOLDEN BALL OR HANGMAN
Like the previous story this one was collected by Sydney Oldall Addy. Mr Addy lived at the end of the nineteenth century in Norton, which was then a separate village in Derbyshire but is now a suburb to the south-west of Sheffield. He was a very clever and interesting man. I have no idea what he did for a living – I have heard someone describe him as the Revd Addy but I don't think that is correct – but, in the way of the times, he was an expert amateur at no end of things. He collected and wrote about folk songs and customs, traditional stories, archaeology, buildings, children's games; in fact anything which he found interesting and worth preserving.
One of the – no, I think the – best ever collection of Derbyshire folk tales is the one he published in 1895 called Household Tales and Traditional Remains which is, sadly, impossible to get hold of these days but can be found in various libraries and archives. Addy said it was a collection of stories he found in the counties of York, Lincoln, Derby and Nottingham. However, an analysis of the places he credits for the stories put almost all of them, apart from the Lincolnshire ones, within the small area where those three counties meet. In other words, within a short distance of his home in Norton. I don't now how he travelled, probably by horse or pony and trap – I don't suppose an antiquarian would go in for one of those newfangled automobiles! I like to picture him on his bicycle, peddling out across the moors heading for the Hope Valley or to Chesterfield armed with his notebooks and wondering what gems he would find that day.
This strange little story was told to him by Sarah Ellen Potter, aged fourteen, 'the daughter of Mr George Potter, of Castleton' (who, I believe, may have kept one of the pubs in the town). 'Hangman' is well known as a song. It is one of the classic ballads and has been sung by all kinds of folk singers, including the black American blues singer Leadbelly and the rock band Led Zeppelin!
Once upon a time there was a little girl. She was a nice little girl and everyone loved her, including the Magician. One day the Magician created for her a beautiful golden ball and he gave it to her father to present to her on her birthday. But along with the ball went a warning – if you ever lose the ball, the Magician will have you hanged!
One day her parents were going out and they told her all the things that parents always tell children before they go – about being good and not doing anything she shouldn't do, or going anywhere she shouldn't go, or speaking to strangers, and they reminded her of the warning the Magician had given her: do not lose your golden ball!
The parents went away and the little girl went out to play and she took her golden ball with her because she loved to play with it, to feel the weight of it, and the coolness of it, and to watch it as it rolled through the grass and reflected the colours of the sky and the flowers.
As she was playing with the ball it rolled into the stream behind the Magician's house and she could not find it. When she returned home, the Magician was waiting for her and he took her away and locked her in the dungeon of his house, while outside, they built the gallows on which to hang her.
That night her father came to visit her and she said:
O hangman, hangman, stay thy hand
A little before I die,
I think I see my father coming,
Hastening through yonder sty.
O father hast thou brought my ball,
Or hast thou bought me free?
Or art thou come to see me hung
Upon the gallows-tree?
Her father replied:
I have not brought thy ball, my dear,
I have not bought thee free,
But I have come to see thee hung
Upon the gallows-tree.
Her father went away, sadly, and the little girl began to cry. Then her mother came to visit her and the girl said:
O hangman, hangman, stay thy hand
A little before I die,
I think I see my mother coming,
Hastening through yonder sty.
O mother hast thou brought my ball,
Or hast thou bought me free?
Or art thou come to see me hung
Upon the gallows-tree?
Her mother replied:
I have not brought thy ball, my dear,
I have not bought thee free,
But I have come to see thee hung
Upon the gallows-tree.
Her mother embraced her and explained that she could do nothing to save her for it was the Magician's rule and, with tears rolling down her face, she went away.
After that the little girl was visited by her brothers and her sisters and her cousins and all her neighbours and she asked them all the same question and they all gave her the same reply and said they were unable to set her free.
When she had given up all hope and was expecting to be hanged the next morning, there came a loud knocking at the door and the gaoler admitted a young man – her true love.
O hangman, hangman, stay thy hand
A little before I die,
I think I see my true love coming,
Hastening through yonder sty.
O true love hast thou brought my ball,
Or hast thou bought me free?
Or art thou come to see me hung
Upon the gallows-tree?
Her true love bent and kissed her and said:
O I have brought thy ball, my dear,
And I have bought thee free,
And I have brought a coach and six
To take thee away with me.
And the true love reached into a bag he was carrying and brought out the golden ball, and he returned it to the Magician, and the gaoler set the little girl free and together she and her true love climbed into the coach and six and drove off into the sunset.
MR FOX OR OVERHEARD UP A TREE
In folklore there are two stories which share the title 'Mr Fox'. The best known is a fairy tale related to the French 'Bluebeard'. In it a young woman marries and goes to live in her husband's castle. He is called Mr Fox, although he is a normal human being with no obviously foxy characteristics. When he is called away on business he gives his wife the keys to the castle and tells her she can go anywhere except for one particular room. Of course she does go into that room – well, you would wouldn't you? There she finds the rotting corpses of her husband's previous wives. In different versions, her trespassing is discovered in different ways, but she is always found out. Sometimes it is a blood stain which won't be removed, sometimes she takes the initiative and tells Mr Fox about finding the room herself, pretending it was in a dream. I think I am safe in saying that she always escapes and Mr Fox is usually chopped into pieces by her brothers!
Most versions of that story contain a rhyme which goes:
Be bold, be bold,
But not too bold,
Lest that your heart's blood,
Should run cold!
Addy did collect a very fragmentary version of that story, but this 'Mr Fox' is much more domestic and happens in a much more identifiable time and environment. I think you can see a distant genetic link though.
Mary was about fifteen years old, on the cusp between being a girl and a young woman. She had left school about a year ago, as most girls did in those days, and had been lucky enough to get herself a job as a maid-of-all-work on a farm not too far from home. I say 'lucky enough' because when you got a job at the Hiring Fair as Mary had done, you never knew quite what it was going to be like. Sometimes employers were cruel and treated young girls almost like slaves – or worse. But Mary's employers treated her well, almost like one of the family – the daughter they didn't have. Most of her time was spent helping the farmer's wife in the house – dusting and cleaning and cooking, or around the farm yard, collecting eggs, sometimes milking the cows. Rarely was she asked to do heavy work out in the fields, just at harvest time or when a job needed doing urgently and they were short-handed. Mary had enjoyed the time she had spent on the farm and, now the year was drawing near its end, she was hoping that she would be taken on again next year.
In all the time Mary had spent on the farm she had only been home once and that was on Mothering Sunday, when everybody tried to get home if they possibly could. Now Mary was looking forward to going home again. And there were several reasons she was particularly looking forward to it apart from just the joy of seeing her parents and her brothers and sisters again. One of the main ones was that she would be taking her wages home with her. Although this would only be a few pounds, Mary knew that it would be a big help with the family budget and she was proud that she could contribute. It made her feel grown-up. The other thing that Mary was excited about was that she was going to be accompanied on her walk home by Matthew.
Matthew was a young man she had met a short while ago at the Harvest Supper. He was working on a neighbouring farm. He was a bit older than Mary but they had hit it off straight away. They'd danced together and talked and giggled. Since then they'd managed to meet a few times, just briefly, at the stile in the boundary wall between their two properties. The last time they'd met they had made the arrangement that Matthew would escort her home. He had said that he didn't like the idea of her walking all that way alone, particularly with the money with her. Mary was flattered that he wanted to take care of her. He was her first boyfriend.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Derbyshire Folk Tales by Pete Castle. Copyright © 2011 Pete Castle. Excerpted by permission of The History Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
Contents
Acknowledgements,Introduction: The Derby Ram,
ONE: TALES OF LOVE AND LOVERS,
TWO: FAIRY TALES,
THREE: TALES OF THE SUPERNATURAL,
FOUR: TALES OF HEROES,
FIVE: TALES OF ROGUES AND VAGABONDS,
Bibliography,