THE YOUNG MAN'S FIRST VISIT TO GOOSE FAIR
The
Young Man’s First Visit To Goose Fair is a story I have been telling at every
opportunity over the past couple of years for reasons which will become
apparent shortly. It is in my Nottinghamshire Folk Tales book (published by The
History Press 2012)
When
I was researching for the book I came across a set of pamphlets called
Nottinghamshire Facts & Fictions by John Potter Briscoe who was a local
librarian and antiquary in the 1870s. There were several useful bits in them
and when I found this story I immediately knew that it would go in the book and
also, probably, into my repertoire. I assumed it was a tale which was
circulating around Nottingham at the time, or else one he had made up. Either
way it was a good one.
I
included it in the book and the book was published and I did various gigs to
plug it. I included this story in most of them. And then… months, perhaps even
a year, later I was Googling something entirely different and I came upon the
same story, but not set in 19th century Nottingham, it was in 14th century
Florence!
It
is a story from Day 4 of The Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio, written in Italy
around 1350. I remember the Decameron from A-level English when we were doing
Keats and learned that his poem Isabella and the Pot of Basil was based on a
story taken from The Decameron. A decade later I discovered that the folk song
Bruton Town, which I sing, is another retelling of the same tale.
The
Decameron is a set of stories—folk tales—and the frame story, the excuse for
telling them, is that Florence was in the grip of a pandemic—the Black Death—so
a group of wealthy young people self-isolated themselves in a remote mansion
and spent their time eating and drinking and telling stories. Does that sound
familiar! The book was very influential and the stories circulated all around
Europe. Before Keats, Chaucer and Shakespeare dipped into it.
When
Filippo Balducci lost his wife to death, he resolved to devote himself and his
young son to God. Consequently he gave his worldly possessions to charity, then
took his little son to the slopes of Mount Asinaio, where they lived together
in a cave, completely secluded from the ways and temptations of the world. In
this remote sanctuary, Filippo taught his son about God and the saints,
protecting him always from distractions and sin.
Only
after the boy reached the age of eighteen did the father feel it safe to expose
him to the outside world. So, the two of them, father and son, set off for the
city of Florence.
Everything
was new and amazing for the son: houses, palaces, churches, horses, and people.
Filled with amazement, he asked his father about every unfamiliar thing, and
Filippo dutifully provided names and explanations for all that they saw, that
is, until they happened upon a party of beautiful young women. The boy, who
until now had never beheld such a sight, could not take his eyes from them.
"Do
not look at them," warned Filippo.
"But
what are they?" asked the son.
"Oh,
they are just geese," replied Filippo, wanting to divert the boy's
attention from the young women.
"Please,
father," begged the boy, "let me have one of those geese. I could put
something into its bill.
"No!"
exclaimed the father. "Their bills are not where you think they are, and
they require special feeding. And furthermore they are evil!"
Poor
Filippo now regretted having taken his son from his protective sanctuary, for
even as he spoke, he realized that however clever his responses were, they were
no match for the boy's natural inclinations.
It
turns out that ‘my’ Goose Fair story is well known all over Europe. Here is a
version from Germany:
A YOUNG MONK WANTED TO HAVE A GOOSE
A hermit once took a young monk to the city. He had raised him since
childhood, and the old monk now wanted to put the young one to a test. Arriving
in the city, they saw a number of women walking to and fro. Filled with
amazement, the young monk stared at them with calf's eyes. Until now he had
never seen a woman, for since his earliest childhood he had been raised in a
monastery.
He asked the old monk what these things were.
The old monk answered, saying, "They are geese." The women were wearing white veils and white cloaks.
The young monk left good enough alone and said nothing more. Afterward, when the two were back at their monastery, the young monk began to cry bitterly.
The old monk asked him why he was crying.
The young monk replied, "Father, why should I not be crying! I
wanted every so badly to have a goose!"
I mentioned this discovery to a Jewish friend who lived in Nottingham and he wasn’t at all surprised. “Oh yes” he said “We have that story too, but we call them ‘the Children of Satan’!”
The Children of Satan
There was once a king to whom a son was born. Wise men advised that he
should be locked away from the world until he was 14 years old so the boy grew
up in that room and never saw any human being except his nurse until he reached
that age and was entrusted to the wise men, who undertook his education. The
prince was taught many things about God and the world, paradise and hell,
angels and demons, virtue and sin. He was also made acquainted with all
creatures inhabiting the world, and he saw for the first time in his life sheep
and oxen, dogs, cats, birds, fishes, and insects. The wise men told him the
names of all these creatures. When the prince saw women and asked what they
were called, one of his masters jokingly replied, "They are called the Children
of Satan."
One day the king asked his son which of the creatures he had seen
pleased him most, and the boy replied that of all the living creatures he had
now seen he found most pleasure in the Children of Satan.
The king, on being subsequently told that by the Children of Satan his
son had meant women, said to him, "Beware of them, for they may lead you
into hell."
For more of my stories and traditional songs see my You Tube channel
and have a look at my web site where you will find out about what I've done, what I'm doing and so on and can buy my books and CDs and subscribe to Facts & Fiction, the storytelling magazine I edit.
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