"Prince Lindworm" - a Danish Folktale

“Prince Lindworm” or “Kong Lindorm” is a Danish folktale.  You might know it as a Norwegian story but that was a mistake in an early translation.  This story is classified as ATU 433B, or “Maiden Disenchanting Serpent Husbands.” 

There are many variants of this story.  Scholars believe the story originated in India and then moved to the Near East before migrating to Scandinavia in the 17th century.  In fact, the first version I ever heard was an African tale called “The Serpent Bride.”  We’ll look at several of the many variants as we proceed to explore this story.

For those readers who have studied and read folktales, you will recognize parts of this story as being from other stories.  In fact, this folktale is truly a mashup.  It starts with a scene right out of “Tatterhood.”  There are two helpful crones seen often in “Baba Yaga” stories.  There is a female protagonist acting to save the lives of women familiar to the story of Sheherazade. The ending may remind some to a touching scene from “Tan Lim.”  The sequel begins with the trials of the “Handless Maiden.”  Oh, so many stories come together here. Many of these, I have talked about in other podcasts and blog posts  should you wish to explore them further.

But before we begin with the story, let’s talk a bit about the lindworm for the story is about a lindworm, after all.  A lindworm is a mythical, hybrid creature from central Europe.  Generally, it is described as a worm like dragon.  It’s serpent body is tall and slender, with scaly skin, long tail and fiery eyes. It’s a figure that speaks and acts as human.  In many stories we see that at its core is human.  At least that’s how it appears in this story..

The version I share comes from the book East of the Sun and West of the Moon by Asbjornsen and Moe published in 1922.  I include the changes made by Katherine Langrish in her blog “Seven Miles of Steel Thistles” which honors the characters of the wise women included within it.

Once upon a time there was a fine young king who was married to the loveliest of queens. They were exceedingly happy, all but for one thing – they had no children. And this often made them both sad, because the queen wanted a dear little child to play with, and the king wanted an heir to his kingdom.

 

One day the queen went out for a walk by herself and she met an old woman who asked, ‘Why do you look so sad, lady?’

‘It’s no use my telling you,’ said the queen, ‘no one in the world can help me.’

‘Oh, you never know,’ said the old woman. ‘Just let me hear your trouble, and maybe I can put things to rights.’

‘The king and I have no children, and that is why I am so distressed.’

‘Well, you needn’t be,’ said the old woman. I can set that right in a twinkling, if only you will do exactly as I tell you. Tonight, at sunset, take a little drinking-cup with two lugs (or handles) and put it bottom upwards on the ground in the north-west corner of your garden. Go and lift it tomorrow morning at sunrise, and you will find two roses underneath it. If you eat the red rose, you will give birth to a little boy, if you eat the white rose, to a little girl, but whatever you do, do not eat both the roses, or you’ll be sorry – I warn you! Only one: remember that!’

‘Thank you, a thousand times,” said the Queen, “this is good news indeed!  And she wanted to give the old woman her gold ring; but the old woman wouldn’t take it. The Queen went home and did as she’d been told, and next morning at sunrise she crept out into the garden and lifted the drinking cup. There were the two roses underneath it, one red and one white. And now she did not know which to choose. 

‘If I choose the red one,' she thought, ‘I will have a little boy who may grow up to go to the wars and be killed. But if I choose the white one, and have a little girl, one day she will get married and go away and leave us. So whichever it is, we may be left with no child after all.’ At last, she decided on the white rose, and she ate it, and it was so sweet she took and ate the red one too, without remembering the old woman’s warning.

 

Sometime after this, the king went away to the wars, and while he was still away the queen gave birth to twins. One was a lovely baby boy, and the other was a Lindworm. She was terribly frightened when she saw the Lindworm, but he wriggled away out of the room and nobody seemed to have seen him but herself, so she thought that it must have been a dream. The baby prince was so beautiful and strong, the queen was delighted with him, and so was the king when he came home. Not a word was said about the Lindworm: only the queen thought about it now and then.

 

Many days and years passed by, and the baby grew up into a handsome young prince, and it was time for the prince to be married. The king sent him off to visit foreign kingdoms, in the royal coach, with six white horses, to find a princess grand enough to be his wife. But at the very first cross-roads the way was barred by an enormous Lindworm, enough to frighten the bravest. He lay in the middle of the road with a great wide-open mouth, and cried, 

‘A bride for me before a bride for you!’

Then the prince made the coach turn round and try another road, but it was all no use. For at the first cross-ways, there lay the Lindworm again, crying out, ‘A bride for me before a bride for you!’ So, the prince had to turn back home again for the castle, and give up his visits to the foreign kingdoms. And his mother, the queen had to confess that what the Lindworm said was true. For he really was the eldest of her twins and so ought to have a wedding first. 

 

There seemed nothing for it but to find a bride for the Lindworm, if his younger brother the prince were to be married at all. So, the king wrote to a distant country and asked for a princess to marry his son, but of course he didn’t say which son, and presently a princess arrived. But she wasn’t allowed to see her bridegroom until he stood by her side in the great hall and was married to her, and then of course it was too late for her to say she wouldn’t have him. But next morning the princess had vanished. The Lindworm lay sleeping all alone, and it was quite plain that he had eaten her. 

 

A little while after, the prince decided that he might now go journeying again in search of a princess. Off he drove in the royal carriage with the six white horses, but at the first crossways, there lay the Lindworm, crying with his great wide open mouth, ‘A bride for me before a bride for you!’ 

 

So the carriage tried another road, and the same thing happened, and they had to turn back again this time, just as before. Then the king wrote to several foreign countries, to know if anyone would marry his son. At last, another princess arrived, this time from a very far distant land. And of course, she was not allowed to see her future husband before the wedding took place, – and then, lo and behold! it was the Lindworm who stood at her side. And next morning the princess had disappeared, and the Lindworm lay sleeping all alone, and it was quite clear that he had eaten her. 

 

By and by the prince started on his quest for the third time, and at the first cross-roads there lay the Lindworm with his great wide open mouth, demanding a bride as before. And the prince went straight back to the castle and told the king he must find another bride for his elder brother.

‘Where shall I find her?’ said the king. ‘I have already made enemies of two great kings who sent their daughters here as brides, and I have no notion how I can obtain a third lady. People are beginning to talk, and I am sure no princess will come.’

 

Now down in a cottage near the wood lived the king’s shepherd, an old man with his only daughter. So, the king came and asked him, ‘Will you give me your daughter to marry my son the Lindworm? I will make you rich for the rest of your life.’

‘No sir,’ said the shepherd, ‘that I cannot do. She is my only child and I need her to take care of me. Besides, if the Lindworm would not spare two lovely princesses, he will not spare her either. He will gobble her up, and she is much too good for such a fate.’

 

But the king wouldn’t take no for an answer, and the old man at last had to give in. Well, when the old shepherd told his daughter she was to be Prince Lindworm’s bride, she was utterly in despair. Into the woods she went, crying and wringing her hands and bewailing her hard fate. And while she wandered to and fro, and old woman appeared out of a big hollow oak tree and asked her why she was so so sad?

‘Oh, it’s no use telling you,’ said the shepherd girl, ‘for no one in the world can help me.’

‘Oh, you never know,’ said the old woman. ‘Just let me hear what your trouble is, and maybe I can put things right.’

‘Ah, how can you?’ said the girl. ‘For I am to be married to the king’s eldest son, who is a Lindworm, and he has already married two beautiful princesses and devoured them, and he will eat me too! No wonder I am distressed.’

‘Well, you needn’t be. All that may be set right,’ said the old woman,  ‘All that can be set right in a twinkling: if you will do exactly as I tell you.’ And the girl said she would. ‘Listen then,’ said the old woman. ‘After the marriage ceremony is over, and when it is time for you to go to bed, you must ask to be dressed in ten snow-white shifts. And you must ask for a tub full of lye, and a tub full of fresh milk, and as many whips as a boy can carry in his arms – and have all these brought into your bedchamber. Then, when the Lindworm bids you shed a shift, you must bid him slough a skin. And when all his skins are off, you must dip the whips in the lye and whip him; next you must wash him in the fresh milk; and lastly, you must take him and hold him in your arms, if it’s only for one moment.’

‘The last is the worst,’ said the shepherd’s daughter, and she shuddered at the thought of holding the cold, slimy, scaly Lindworm. ‘Do as I say and all will be well,’ said the old woman. Then she disappeared again in the Oaktree.

When the wedding day arrived, the girl was fetched in the royal chariot with the six white horses, and taken to the castle to be decked as a bride. And she asked for ten snow-white shifts to be brought to her, and the tub of lye, and the tub of milk, and as many whips as a boy could carry in his arms, and the king said she should have whatever she asked for.

She was dressed in beautiful robes and looked like the loveliest of brides. She was led to the hall where the wedding ceremony was to take place and saw the Lindworm for the first time as he came in and stood by her side.  So, they were married, and the wedding feast was held.

When the feast was over, the bridegroom and bride were brought to their apartment with music and torches, and a great procession.  As soon as the door was shut, the Lindworm turned to her and said, ‘Fair maiden, shed a shift!’

The shepherd’s daughter answered him, ‘Prince Lindworm, slough a skin!’

    ‘No one has ever dared tell me to do that before!’ said he.

    ‘But I command you to do it now!’ said she. Then he began to moan and wriggle: and in a few minutes a long snake-skin lay upon the floor beside him. The girl drew off her first shift and spread it on top of the skin. 

The Lindworm said to her again, ‘Fair maiden, shed a shift.’

The shepherd’s daughter answered him again, ‘Prince Lindworm, slough a skin.’ 

    ‘No one has ever dared tell me to do that before,’ said he. 

    ‘But I command you to do it now,’ said she. Then with groans and moans he cast off the second skin, and she covered it with her second shift. The Lindworm said for the third time, ‘Fair maiden, shed a shift!’

The shepherd’s daughter answered him again, ‘Prince Lindworm, slough a skin.’ 

    ‘No one has ever dared tell me to do that before,’ he said, and his little eyes rolled furiously. But the girl was not afraid, and once more she commanded him to do as she bade.

And so this went on until nine Lindworm skins were lying on the floor, each of them covered with a snow-white shift. And there was nothing left of the Lindworm but a huge thick mass, most horrible to see. And the girl seized the whips, dipped them in the lye and whipped him as hard as ever she could. Next, she bathed him all over in the fresh milk. Lastly, she dragged him on to the bed and put her arms around him. And she fell fast asleep that very moment.

 

Next morning very early, the king and the courtiers came and peeped in through the keyhole. They wanted to know what had become of the girl, but none of them dared enter the room. However, in the end they grew bolder and opened the door a tiny bit. And there they saw the girl, all fresh and rosy, and beside her lay no Lindworm, but the handsomest prince that anyone could wish to see.

The king ran out to fetch the queen, and after that there were such rejoicings in the castle as never were known before or since. The wedding took place all over again, with banquets and merrymakings for days and weeks. No bride was ever so beloved by a king and queen as this peasant maid from the shepherd’s cottage, and there was no end to their love and kindness towards her, because by her sense and her calmness and her courage she had saved their son, Prince Lindworm. 

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East of the Sun and West of the Moon: Old Tales from the North, illus. Kay Nielsen (New York: George H. Dorwan Co., 1922). "Strong Fairy Tale Heroines #21: Prince Lindworm" in Seven Miles of Steel Thistles: a blog by Katherine Langrish (July 14, 2020). 

“The Vampire Skeleton Corpse” – An Iroquois Folktale

 

Like many gifts, this story returned to me just when I needed it the most.  It struck me as the perfect metaphor for our times.  As I toss and turn at night, worried and fearful for what’s to come, the story continues to haunt me.

As a storyteller, I am very careful as to how I share Native American stories.  These stories are essential to their culture providing wisdom, teachings and knowledge.  Many stories are told only at specific times of the year, or for specific purposes, and then only by those given permission.  Stories are thought of as “medicine” and only the wisest know how to use them to their full potential.  So, as a storyteller I don’t tell these stories because they are not part of my culture.  But I am sharing this story now for it is included in a collection of folktales, Iroquois Stories: Heroes and Heroines, Monsters and Magic by the Native American storyteller Joseph Bruchac.  I trust Joseph’s judgment in sharing this story.

I found multiple versions of this tale by the early collectors and “folklorists” of the late 1880’s including David Cusick, Jeremiah Curtin, Arthur Parker and Frederick Wilkerson Waugh.  Sadly, many of these translations have lost the essence of the culture as they were made palatable for the times and for their Anglo readers. My version will be a conflation of all these stories using Joseph’s wonderful tale as the template.

The ”Vampire Corpse” or “Vampire Skeleton” story was one of the most popular Iroquois folktales.  There are multiple versions of this tale which are found in most of the early collections.  These stories were obviously well loved and told many times.  As the title indicates, this tale is quite frightening, especially if told under the light of the full moon.  It is the ultimate ghost story.  It would also be considered a “pour quoi” tale, for it explains a cultural practice.

But before we begin, I think it’s best to say that these “vampires” are not the same as the ones in Europe. They don’t turn into bats (although sometimes owls!). They can’t be killed with a stake through the heart or vanish in the light of day. Mostly these are the spirits of the dead: people who in life were very evil and who could not give up their evil ways.  After death, people were placed in a box and left on a shelf in a dwelling.  But in this world (and in many others) the dead can be dangerous. When people stumble on the vampire’s location, these spirits feast off the bodies and blood of the living and sometimes transform themselves into birds or animals.

I share this story today for the women who walk on the razor’s edge; those who seek to keep their families and communities safe from evil.  Their intuition gnaws at their stomach and prickles the hairs on the back of their necks. The wise old crones speak of times long gone. They light candles and perform ceremonies at the light of the full moon.  “Remember the ancestors,” they say.  “The time is now, to remember.  Listen to your intuition and act before it’s too late.”
And they are right.

Long ago, a young family made their way into the depths of the forest.  The husband and wife traveled through the winter snow to visit the wife’s family.  The man walked ahead complaining about the journey, while the woman caried her baby on her back and held all the blankets and supplies in her arms. The man, who carried nothing, continued to complain.  “I don’t know why we must go visit your family,” he said. “Is it absolutely necessary to bring them gifts? Don’t they have enough already?”  The woman sighed and walked behind.  Although they could have made the trip easily in one day, the man walked slowly and aimlessly, dragging his feet.  When the sun set, they saw a small bark lodge ahead.

Now long ago an evil man had lived in that bark lodge.  He was thought to be a sorcerer, wizard, medicine man or witch.  No one knew for sure.  But at night it was said that he transformed himself into an owl and went out in search of prey.  When he died, he was buried in this house following the custom of the time.  He was placed inside the hut in a cedar box, placed on a shelf and left there. 

The young family knew nothing of this and so the husband, who was a bit lazy, insisted on staying there for the night even though they could have reached the village in short order. The woman wanted to keep traveling.  She didn’t feel good about staying in the lodge.  The hair on the back of her neck prickled when she moved towards it.  But her husband would have none of it.  He refused to go farther.  The man entered the lodge, took all their bedding and laid down next to the box to sleep.  The woman and her child tried to sleep on the hard floor, but the baby begin to cry.  “Woman!” he said, “Quiet your child, I need to rest!”
 
She did her best and after some time they all began to sleep.  As the moon rose, the bark lodge was filled with light. The woman stirred and heard gnawing.  It sounded as if an owl was tearing and eating the flesh of a mouse.  She looked toward her husband and saw a large pool of blood.  Standing over his body was a figure, its hands and mouth dripping with blood. Was it a skeleton or a corpse?  She couldn’t tell for sure.  Either way, she immediately knew she was in the bark lodge of a monster.  
So, she pretended to speak to her husband to trick the skeleton.  “Husband,” she cried out.  “The baby needs water; I’m going to gather some from the snow.”  She took the baby in her arms, grabbed a pot and went out the door.  As soon as she was free from the bark lodge, she began to run as fast as she could in the direction of the village. The moon was full, but the night was dark and cold.

It wasn’t long before the skeleton knew she was gone.  It began to whoop, screech and scream after her.  “Whoo whot! Whooop!  Whooop!  EEEEK!  EEEK!”  The monster she feared let out a blood curdling cry. She ran as fast as she could with the baby in her arms. She often fell in the snow but pulled herself up to move forward, each time losing precious momentum. In desperation she took off her skirt and threw it as hard as she could into the trees.  The branches caught it, and the skeleton monster attacked, shredding the skirt to bits.  The woman continued to run but the monster grew closer and closer.  She took the blanket and threw it to her side to steer the skeleton off course. The monster attacked the blanket but after finding no blood, screeched in anger.  “Whoop!  Whoop!  EEEK!  EEEK!”  it cried.  The frightful chase continued. After some time, the woman and baby were naked for they had stripped off all their clothes to delay the skeleton’s attack.  Exhausted, cold, and afraid, the woman was almost defeated.  But just then, she saw a sign on a tree marking the boundary of the village before her.  She ran into the long house and collapsed on the floor.   The people were astonished to see her there and gathered to aid her.  They wrapped both the woman and her baby in blankets, gave them food and something to drink.

The woman told the tribe what had happened, and the warriors went out into the darkness with torches to protect the village.  They could see the skeleton monster pace around their border, but the light kept it away.  In this village, an old woman was the tribal leader.  She knew all the old stories and carried all the history and wisdom within her.  After listening to the tale, she said, “An evil man, once lived in that bark lodge.  His bones are still there.  Tomorrow we must go to where he is buried and stop this monster from harming anyone again.”

And that’s what they did.  The next morning, many made their way into the forest - the old woman, the young woman and her baby, along with all the warriors. Together they made their way to the bark lodge.  They found the bones of the woman’s husband inside.  The skeleton monster was back in his funeral box on the shelf.  Its mouth and hands were covered in blood.

“The spirits of the dead can be dangerous,” the old woman said.  She took out her medicine pouch and sprinkled herbs around the box.  Then the men placed dried wood in a circle around the bark lodge and set it a blaze. Soon the bark lodge itself was on fire.   “Whoo whot! Whooop!  Whooop!  EEEEK!  EEEK!”  the vampire skeleton howled as it encircled the lodge looking for an escape.  Just as the entire building was about to be engulfed in flames, an owl flew out the door.  The bark lodge burned to the ground and the vampire skeleton lived no more.

Afterwards, the women elders of the village, decided they should bury the dead underground so that evil spirits would no longer wander at night.  The young woman and her child stayed in the village with her family.  After some time, she married a kind and brave warrior and the three lived together happily.  The village slept peacefully at night.

Two things to consider before we begin.  First, this folktale was part of the Iroquois oral tradition.  The story was shared over and over again by different tellers, at different times and in different contexts.  It was an important story to the people which speaks to why many variants remain.  In these versions, the Iroquois storyteller ends the tale by explaining their burial customs.  Bodies were initially left in boxes above ground but then later that custom changed to being buried below ground.  This story explains the change in practice making it a “pour quoi” tale (that is, one that answers a “why” question). 

But this story also references their supernatural world.  Anthony Wonderley writes in his book Oneida Iroquois Folklore, Myth, and History, “Beyond tales of creation, heroes, wonder, magic, and humor, there lurked a world of supernatural denizens autochthonous to the deep woods.  Some were mostly benevolent, but the majority were dreadful most of the time.  They are among the most popular characters in Iroquois folklore.” This is an incredibly scary story and would probably top many of the ghost tales told around the campfire.  The dead are seen as dangerous, and they are scary.  It’s a fear that transcends any one culture.

Iroquois stories usually illustrate a moral or principle. Stories are medicine.  They are told for a particular purpose.  Joseph Bruchac says they are “teachers that bears lessons of the right ways to live in balance with the earth.” Native American storyteller, Dovie Thomason, speaks of her grandmother’s stories.  The old stories she told of beavers and wolves somehow were always engaged in the same naughty behavior that she was as a child.  These stories are teaching tools, not preaching tools.   They settle within us and change us from the inside out.  There is never a single interpretation.

And so, it is with great reverence that I now share my thoughts about this story.  I am hoping it is appropriate for this wise old crone to do so for the story strikes me as important for the days ahead.  

The story begins in the forest.  In Jungian symbolism, the forest is the realm of the unconscious.  This is what is unknown, unexpected and denied.  It is where our deepest emotions reside be it fear, anger, loneliness, or sadness. The characters are deep in this forest and soon faced with darkness.  This is very much a world of the unknown and the unexpected.

A small family enters the forest to find their way home.  This is the home of matriarchy.  It is a home of safety, support and nurturing. It is a place of cooperation and community, where the collective is valued.

The man doesn’t want to go.  He is lazy and self-centered.  He doesn’t help the woman.  He refuses to listen to her or help her and the baby.  We might see him as the ego self or as the displaced animus.  I prefer to think of him as representing the individualism of the West. This is a cultural value in which the individual is more important than society and the collective.  At extremes it represents self-obsession or as some describe it as “collective narcissism.”

Thinking only of himself, the man heads into the birch lodge, not valuing the intuition of his wife or the wisdom of the feminine. Clearly their relationship is not good.   Even in the matriarchal world of the Iroquois, this man sees his wife as less than himself.  She has no voice and is compliant to him.  She walks on eggshells.  She is lonely and fearful.  She longs to return home.

The family knows nothing of the birch lodge.  They don’t recognize the landscape they walk upon.  They haven’t heard the story of the evil sorcerer.  There is no evidence in the story that they should have known.  They are blindsided by what is to come.  It’s only the woman who feels the prickling, who tells him they should not stay.  It is her inner knowing, her intuition that cries out in warning. If the man had listened to her, everything would have been different.

If this story was a metaphor (which it is), I would say this is where we are today.  The collective world is in danger.  The “feminine” within all of us knows something is wrong.  We are losing our voice and our freedom. We are forgetting the past, ignorant of what is to come.

When the individual forgets family and the collective, we are destined to enter the forest and experience the horrors of the unknown. Selfishness dooms a family as it dooms a society. The man doesn’t listen.  He doesn’t try to understand.  He doesn’t explore or study his surroundings.  He doesn’t check it out. He thinks he knows better.  This is the “rational” mind that only takes in what is two feet ahead.  This is the patriarchy that put the hierarchical status quo first.

The man cozies up to the box.  He doesn’t look inside.  He doesn’t even think too.  He takes all the blankets for himself.  He leaves his wife and baby on the floor.  The moon rises in the night sky.  That is the time when magic appears.  It is the time of completion.  The woman sleeps fitfully.  She is on edge, waiting and watching.  Suddenly she hears the sound of gnawing bones.  It’s the sound of an owl eating a mouse; a predator eating the weakest of its prey. She looks and sees the unthinkable.  Her husband is being eaten by a monster.  What was once human is now devouring what is human.  What was her world, and its structure has now come to an end. 

The monster represents what should be dead. It’s our darkest fears coming back to life.  The destruction from the past returns to haunt us.  It’s the story of bigotry, misogyny and hate.  It is the history of all the dictators who sought to destroy freedom for their own individual power and gain, be it Hitler or Stalin or rulers living in this present day. These monsters rise from the dead to turn us into mindless zombies.
 
Quickly the woman thinks of a ruse to leave the lodge.  While she pretends she is talking to her husband, she takes the baby and leaves. But instead of getting water for the child, she runs to save their lives. It's not long before the vampire corpse is after them.  She hears it screeching like an owl, enraged by her deception.  It seeks to take her life.  It seeks to take her way of life.  It seeks to take her strength, cleverness and bravery so she can no longer resist. It wants to take everything that is precious to her. This monster will suck you dry without a single thought and gnaw on your bones until there is nothing left. It’s the spirit of death cannibalizing on the living.

There is a frightening chase.  It is only through the woman’s bravery and wits that they escape.  She strips herself and her baby naked as she flees this world.  In doing so, she almost dies from exposure and exhaustion. But she doesn’t give up. She never gives up.  As they say today, “and yet she persisted.”

Finally, she makes her way into the village. She is cold, naked and scared; stripped of what she has known and become.  She is a migrant. The tribe welcomes her and her child.  She is a visitor but still they gather around and care for her.  She is no longer alone.  The warriors rush out to defend their village from the monster. They bring light into the darkness and keep guard until daylight.

The old woman is a tribal elder.  She was probably a clan mother. She knows all the old stories and is the keeper of the wisdom that deserves to be kept.  She knows the story of the evil sorcerer who lives in the forest.  As the wise crone she knows exactly what to do in this moment. She has kept the history of the people safe within her where it cannot be rewritten or reinterpreted. 

What history are we forgetting in this moment?  What memories do our ancestors cry out for us to remember? There are few alive who remember the Holocaust or the dropping of the first atomic bomb.  There are few who learn the history of colonialism or slavery today.  What is lost when we are tricked into forgetting?  Do we recognize evil when we are faced with it? What happens to our freedom when history is rewritten?

And so, at daylight, the old woman leads them to the birch lodge where they find the vampire skeleton sleeping in its box, it’s mouth and hands covered in blood. She knows what to do and sets to work with her herbs and firewood.  The fire is set.  This is not the fire of warmth or food.  It is the white hot fire that burns out evil, for evil can never be ignored.  This evil can’t be placated or explained away.  It can’t be worked with or made “nice.” It can only be eradicated through the fire of rebirth and renewal. The wise crone knows that and so it is done. The vampire skeleton is transformed into an owl, only a shadow of what it once was.  But the owl still lives so we don’t forget.

The story ends with the woman and her child safe within the bosom of the village.  She finally finds love and family.  The village lives together in peace.  The collective is safe.

What does this story mean today?  I leave that for you to consider.  But for my women readers I give this advice.  Don’t ignore your intuition. Prepare yourself for struggle.  Be willing to fight against injustice.  Your intuition will guide you as to what you need to do now and in the future to protect yourself, your family and your freedom.

Why We Remember “A Christmas Carol”

 

This month the “Wise Crone Cottage Podcast” has published my reading of Dickens’ Christmas Carol in four episodes.  The chapters are so long that I’ve chosen to share the moral of the story here.
 

Dickens’ Christmas Carol is iconic.  The work has not been out of print since its original publication in 1843.  More importantly, the work itself has become legendary through the making of numerous adaptations and variations; in books, films, ballet, and opera.  This is the living folklore of the story.  It represents the cultural impact this story has had on the Anglo-American world. I’m sure Dickens would be pleased by its longevity and relevance.

Dickens wrote this novella during a dark and difficult time in his life. His work, which was often issued as serials, was being pirated by other publishers both in England and the U.S.  Copyright was not as clear then as today and so Dickens was mired in litigation.  Even when he would win a suit, the publishers often went bankrupt before he received any compensation. The cycle began again and again. Further, Dickens was criticized for even bringing these lawsuits and seeking payment at all.  His critics accused him of acting like Scrooge. (But really? Why shouldn’t authors be paid fairly for their work? Why shouldn’t artists?)

Dickens was certainly not Scrooge.  He was not a wealthy man.  He had five children and a father to support.  Further he was not nobility.  He had worked in a shoe blacking factory when he was twelve years old.  His father had been sent to debtor’s prison. He had lived suffering and understood the suffering of others.

The 1840’s in England were called “the Hungry Forties,” a difficult time of depression, unemployment and child labor.  These were dark days in which people began to reflect on wealth inequality and issues of social justice.  Dickens was also concerned with these issues.  He criticized the slavery he saw in America and spoke up against orphan schools in England.  These issues were in his mind when he wrote A Christmas Carol as much as his need for quick cash. 

It was clear that society was struggling in the 1800s, but there was a debate about how to resolve those ills. Some argued that the government should intervene, while others thought that private charities held the key.  Dickens believed instead in the power of the individual. It was only through a change of heart that actual social change could occur.  He thought that Scrooge and other employers could have a positive impact on the lives of their workers.  Scrooge’s nephew called these workers “fellow-passengers to the grave… and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.”  This is a class-less argument.  We are all the same and should treat others as we wish to be treated.  We see Scrooge doing so when he gives food and more importantly a salary increase to Bob Cratchit.   

Sadly, we see these same arguments playing out today, over 181 years later.  What can and should the government do in the face of poverty, illness, and suffering?  What should employers do?  Do we need the government to regulate wages and better working conditions or will CEOs do it on their own? How about charities? Can’t they just resolve these issues through private donations? George W. Bush thought those thousand points of life could take care of all human suffering without the need for much government intervention.  How has that played out?  

In A Christmas Carol we hear the cries of the one-percenters today. “Are there no prisons or union workhouses?  How about the poor laws?  Are they in effect?”  Scrooge says he pays his taxes and will give nothing to charity. The poor are seen as lazy and immoral.  Helping them would just encourage this behavior. But Scrooge perhaps is a bit better than the robber barons of today.  At least he pays his taxes.  Most middle-class Americans pay more taxes than CEOs of corporations.

So, while we may argue about what solution will work best, we know that Dickens does have a point.  Nothing will change in society without a change of heart. In a world where cruelty prevails and kindness is thought to be a sucker’s game, we can’t be surprised when the government separates children from their migrant parents, releases convicted insurrectionists, and with callous or malice aforethought treats the most vulnerable as the other (often through name calling, belittling and intimidation).  

William Wrigg writes in “Dickens’ Message of Christmas,” “Dickens doubted the success of even the most high-minded reforms unless a genuine feeling of good will came to prevail amongst men.  Although he attacked with vehemence almost every aspect of English society, in none of his works did he ever call for the over-throw of a single institution.  His prime target was not the shortcomings of government or the gross injustices of a decrepit educational system, but rather the human heart.” That view might be seen as rather old-fashioned, in a world where a healthcare CEO’s assassination is praised.  Violence is approved (by some) as the way to resolve social justice problems quickly and expediently.

Dickens writes a powerful scene of the consequences facing us when we ignore human suffering.

"'Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask,' said
Scrooge, looking intently at the Spirit's robe,' but I see
something strange, and not belonging to yourself, protruding
from your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw.'
 
'It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it,' was
the Spirit's sorrowful reply. 'Look here.'
 
From the foldings of its robe, it brought two children;
wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt
down at its feet, and clung upon the outside of its garment.
 
'Oh, Man. look here. Look, look, down here.' exclaimed the Ghost.
 
They were a boy and a girl. Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling,
wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their humility. Where
graceful youth should have filled their features out, and
touched them with its freshest tints, a stale and shriveled
hand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted them, and
pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat
enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No
change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any
grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, has
monsters half so horrible and dread.
 
Scrooge started back, appalled. Having them shown to him
in this way, he tried to say they were fine children, but
the words choked themselves, rather than be parties to a lie
of such enormous magnitude.
 
'Spirit, are they yours?' Scrooge could say no more.
 
'They are Man's,' said the Spirit, looking down upon
them. 'And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers.
This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both,
and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy,
for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the
writing be erased. Deny it.' cried the Spirit, stretching out
its hand towards the city. 'Slander those who tell it ye.
Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse.
And abide the end.'
 
“Have they no refuge or resource?” cried Scrooge.

“Are there no prisons?” said the Spirit, turning on him for the last time with his own words. “Are there no workhouses?”

The bell struck twelve.

Later Dickens warns that doing nothing to help others comes at a cost for us all. He continues this exploration in his book A Tale of Two Cities (concerning the French revolution). (It’s a must read! You’ll never lose the image of Madame Defarge.)

But what about Scrooge himself?  Scholars and literary critics write about the “Scrooge problem.”  The Scrooge problem is the argument that Scrooge’s character was not realistic.  These scholars simply don’t believe that his transformation lasted.

But fortunately, some psychologists now argue that Scrooge’s transformation might have been real. Research shows that between one-half and one-third of all people who experience significant traumatic events feel a new sense of gratitude for life and other people. They develop more intimate and authentic relationships and have a clear understanding of what is important in life.  Psychologists call this “post traumatic growth.”

Post-traumatic growth (PTG) is a theory that explains psychological transformation occurring after trauma. The theory was developed by psychologists Richard Tedeschi, PhD, and Lawrence Calhoun, PhD, in the mid-1990s.  It holds that those people who endure psychological struggle following adversity can often see positive growth afterward.

"People develop new understandings of themselves, the world they live in, how to relate to other people, the kind of future they might have and a better understanding of how to live life," says Tedeschi.

Here’s what this storyteller believes about Scrooge.  Dickens says Scrooge was transformed and as a storyteller I must take him at his word.  Otherwise, I can’t believe in fairy tales and “happily ever after.”  The story of Scrooge (not the book) begins with “Once upon a time.”  This is a liminal time.  A time that begins in the 1800’s and goes on until today.  In fiction, we must suspend our judgment about plausibility and realism.

I also must believe that transformation, while not likely, is possible.  If we don’t believe change is possible, we need to throw out most of religion, mythology, philosophy and psychology.  We’ll need to start a bonfire with self-help books and 12 Step Programs.

I personally think Scrooge’s transformation stuck because he was no longer alone.  He had his nephew, and he had Bob’s family.  He developed new friendships which gave him the meaning and purpose to sustain his growth.   Isolation and loneliness impact both our health and our psychology. And although Dickens didn’t have the data, he understood this clearly.

To me this old story is incredibly relevant for our time.  The story is about money, power and greed.  It’s about wealth inequality.  It’s about good and evil, struggle and privilege.  It’s a story important today even if you remove all the Christmas trimmings from the tale. Dickens has something important to say and he’s not afraid to say it!  “I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach,”  Scrooge promises.
In today’s language, Dickens speaks Truth to Power.  May we all be as forthright as Charles was in writing this work.

P.S.  If you are interested in a comparison between this story and “The Little Match Girl” check out Season 2, #5 of my podcast.  Spoilers alert!  Dickens wins the moral battle yet again! An earlier version of A Christmas Carol is found on my podcast.  It’s called “The Story of the Goblins Who Stole a Sexton” told in the episode, “Krampus, Goblins & Switches, Oh, My!” (S4, #7).

Illustration by Arthur Rackham.

A Brief History of Folklore in Children’s Literature

 

    As a traditional storyteller much of my work is gathering tales from the oral tradition.  These are the stories that were shared from person to person prior to the written word. But although I was told stories as a child, my great love for folklore started with books.  What is folklore?  Folklore is the cultural and oral expression of the people. It is the sharing of beliefs, customs and stories. Children’s books are filled with folklore that include “Old Mother Goose” rhymes, songs, poems, ways to make a “cat’s cradle”; and stories based on folktales, fairy tales and myths.  
    Author and professor, Betsy Hearne, wrote that “folklore is the birthplace of literature,” and that certainly must be true for children’s literature.  For this literature is heavily influenced by folklore, from its motifs and archetypes to its familiar tale types. But it wasn’t always this way.  The folktales of old were first told to an adult audience and many were filled with violence and death. These were topics thought unsuitable for children. Further using folklore as the subject of children’s literature has been hotly debated.  It has been criticism for promoting fantasy, patriarchy, elitism, colonialism, cultural misappropriation and racism.
    But nonetheless these stories have survived and proliferated both orally and in print. In fact, from the earliest published work for children until today, folklore has been prominent in children’s literature. Why? Because the tales are entertaining while also sharing culture, history and values. Let’s look at one example, the story of Cinderella. It began as a folktale, then inspired a literary fairy tale. Some say there may be over 3,000 oral variants of the story. But how many publications are there of Cinderella?  A quick search in the national database “WorldCat” shows that there are approximately 27,000 English language books concerning Cinderella.  Consider how the story has been told and retold in picture books, chapter books, and young adult novels.  Some of these are modern retellings and others are versions shared long ago. The life of this story goes on and on because it is continually expanding and growing. This story has captured our imagination, as have many other traditional tales. So, when we look at children’s literature today, we discover folklore is alive within it.  It too is constantly growing and changing.  While today’s story variants are more often found in print than shared orally, that doesn’t mean that oral expression is dead.  These stories stay alive through Tik Tok book groups and fan fiction.  They are told again and again in many ways.    
    In the history depicted here, we’ll see examples of folklore serving as the subject and inspiration for children’s literature.  We’ll start with the early modern chapbooks, then move on to collections of folktales, literary fairy tales, picture books, chapter books and young adult fiction.  We’ll also look at books from the “golden age” of children’s literature. In each category there will be a brief explanation with one or more examples.  
    Author Isaac Bashevis Singer writes, “Without folklore and deep roots in a specific soil, literature must decline and wither away.  This is true in all literature of all times.  Luckily children’s literature is even now more rooted in folklore than the literature for adults.  And this alone makes children’s literature so important in our generation.”
    It is my hope that the reader will remember similar titles from their own childhood or books they read to children. These are the stories filled with the wisdom and enchantment of the folk.  They are tales that have been told for hundreds of years and hopefully will be shared for hundreds more.
 

Chapbooks

    Chapbooks are small, printed booklets which were sold as inexpensive, street literature in the early modern period (15th – 18th c.) of England and Europe.  Stories in these texts were often derived from folklore. Here are some examples: Chap-Books of the 18th Century: with Facsimiles, Notes and Introduction by John Ashton. (London: Chatto & Windus, 1882). Included within this text is “The Pleasant History of Jack Horner.”

 

    The Original Mother Goose's Melody as issued by John Newberry, of London, circa 1760; later
editions by Isaiah Thomas, of Worcester, Mass., circa 1785, and Munroe & Francis, of Boston, circa 1825.  This book provides the nursery rhyme “Little Jack Horner.”

 

    For more examples see, “McGill Libraries Chapbook Collection”: https://digital.library.mcgill.ca/chapbooks/index.php

Stories from the Oral Tradition: Folktales, Fairy Tales, and Myths

    In the 1800s, the first folklorists began to collect and record folklore to preserve their culture.  These were the stories and beliefs passed down for generations through the oral tradition – such as folktales, fairy tales and myths.  The most famous collectors include the Brothers Grimm, Andrew Lang and Joseph Jacobs. Initially, many of these collections were for adults.  Their popularity led to editing the texts for a child audience.
    Die Bruder Grimm [ Grimm, Jacob & Wilhelm Karl]. Kinder-und Haus-Marchen. Gesammelt durch die Bruder Grimm. Berlin: In der Realschulbuchhandlung, 1812.  This is a compilation of German folktales. Volume 1 contained 86 stories.  Volume 2 (which was published in 1815) included 70 more tales.   By the 7th edition in 1857, there were over 200 stories now edited for a child audience.

     For Grimm stories see, “The Grimm Brothers’ Children’s and Household Tales (Grimms’ Fairy Tales) compiled, translated, and classified by D.L. Ashlimann: https://sites.pitt.edu/~dash/grimmtales.html
    The Langs' Fairy Books are a series of 25 collections of children’s stories published between 1889 and 1913 by Andrew Lang and his wife, Leonora Blanche Alleyne. Andrew Lang was the editor while Leonora translated and adapted stories from French, German, Portuguese, Italian, Spanish, Catalan, and other languages.

    For collections of Lang’s stories see, “The Fairy Books of Andrew Lang”: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/30580.
    Joseph Jacobs was a collector and publisher of English and European folklore. His book, English Fairy Tales (New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1895) included the story “Jack the Giant Killer.”

    For other stories see, “English Fairy Tales collected by Joseph Jacobs”: https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/008682965

Literary Fairy Tales

    While there are many definitions for fairy tales, the simplest is that these are folktales with “magic.” There are fairy tales within collections of folk tales (see the Grimm Brothers versions of “Snow White” and “Cinderella”).  But the most famous version of these stories is often found in literary fairy tales. While folktales have no authors, literary fairy tales are authored works that rely heavily on the motifs, tale types and characterizations found within folklore.
    Charles Perrault was a French author who lived from 1628-1703.  In 1697, his book, Histoires ou Contes du Temps Passé, was published. It included the stories “Sleeping Beauty,” “Little Red Riding Hood,” and “Cinderella.” This work is thought to have influenced some of the later Grimm tales and is the version of Cinderella that is known best.

    For more examples see, “The Fairy Tales of Charles Perrault”: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/29021 
    Hans Christian Anderson (1805-1875) was a Danish writer who wrote over 156 popular fairy tales compiled in 9 volumes.  These included “The Little Mermaid,” “Thumbelina,” and “The Ugly Duckling.”  Anderson was influenced by reading The Arabian Nights in childhood. His tales often included Christian morals.  His first book of fairy tales was Eventyr, Fortalte for Børn. Første Samling. Første Hefte, 1835.  This book included the stories “The Tinderbox” and “The Princess and the Pea.”

    For more examples see, “Hans Christian Andersen Fairy Tales and Stories”: http://hca.gilead.org.il/
    One Thousand and One Nights (Arabian Nights) is a collection of stories from India and Persia.  Some are folktales while others are literary. The collection centers around the story of a concubine, Shahrazad, who was forced to tell a ruler a story each night to stay alive. It is the “frame” story in which all the other stories reside. The first English translation was in the 1700s.  These stories were very influential in world literature and culture. They include “Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp,” “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves,” and “The Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor.”
    The Annotated Arabian Nights translated by Yasmile Seale (New York: Liveright Pub. Co., 2021) is a recent publication; acclaimed for its translation, illustrations and scholarly annotations.

    For an earlier translation see, “The Project Gutenberg Ebook One Thousand and One Nights”: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/34206/34206-h/34206-h.htm
    Madame Marie–Catherine d’Aulnoy (1650 – 1750) was a French author and aristocrat. She invented the term “fairy tale” (conte de fees).  Madame d’Aulnoy participated in literary salons with other women writers.  From 1697-98 she published 25 fairy tales based on motifs and tale types found in the oral tradition.  Her stories had a female slant and often commented critically on the French aristocracy.   One of her most famous stories is “The White Cat.”  A current publication, The Island of Happiness: Tales of Madame d’Aulnoy, was translated by Jack Zipes (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2021).

 

    For earlier translations see, “The Fairy Tales of Marie-Catherine d’Aulnoy”: https://www.surlalunefairytales.com/oldsite/authors/daulnoy.html

Golden Age of Children’s Literature

    The Golden Age of Children’s Literature was from 1865-1926, a period when many classic children’s books were published in Britain and America.  It was at this time when children’s literature was seen as a separate literary genre.  Titles included Peter Pan (1904), The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (1910), Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (1865), The Princes and the Goblin (1872), and Winnie-the-Pooh (1926).
    George McDonald (1824-1905) was a Scottish author and minister. He is often regarded as the “founding father” of modern fantasy writing. His work influenced Lewis Carroll, C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien.  His 1872 story, The Princess and the Goblin included goblins from folklore and other folktale motifs.

    For more examples see, “The Princess and the Goblin”: https://archive.org/details/princessgoblin00macd2/mode/2up

     Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures of Wonderland was influenced greatly by folklore. The story contained common folktale motifs (for example, a journey into an otherworldly realm, encounters with talking animals and anthropomorphic creatures, riddles and challenges).

    For a digital version of the story see, “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11

Picture Books

    Picture books focus on younger children by emphasizing illustrations over text.  Many of these titles are crafted from traditional folktales.
    For example, Lon Po Po: A Red-Riding Hood Story from China was translated and illustrated by Ed Young (New York: Philomel (Penguin Young Readers Group), 1989). This book won the 1990 Caldecott Medal.

    For more information see: “Lon Po Po: A Red-Riding Hood Story from China | Kids Book Read Aloud”: https://youtu.be/TvmyISk1pkM?si=Hc8EwZsR5UImZ2WM 

    Why Mosquitoes Buzz in People’s Ears by Verna Aardena (New York: Dial Books for Young Readers, 1975).  The story is a “chain” tale, based on an African folktale. This book won the Caldecott medal in 1976.

    For more information: “Why Mosquitoes Buzz in People's Ears || Read Aloud | Read Along || Verna Aardema”: https://youtu.be/BbacGmFcNik?si=VTFdPr2QL2LW5BY5
    “Little Golden Books” were a series of inexpensive picture books that began publication in 1942 and continue to this very day.  Titles were often based on folklore, for example, “The Little Red Hen” and “Mother Goose.”  “Thumbelina” (1953) was based on the story written by Hans Christian Andersen. 

    Another type of “picture” book is the graphic novel. “How the Alligator Got His Brown Scaly Skin” is a traditional story by Joyce Bear of the Muscogee Nation. This story is included within the book Trickster: Native American Tales: A Graphic Collection. 10th ed. (Chicago: Chicago Review Press, 2021).

 

    For more information see, “How the Alligator Got His Brown Scaly Skin, Joyce Bear & Megan Baehr, from Trickster, Matt Dembicki”:  https://youtu.be/zU2kmjLo4g0?si=c5LJAA94zOGfMuD0  or for text https://archive.org/details/tricksternativea0000unse


Chapter Books

    Chapter books are written with younger readers in mind.  Many are based in some way on traditional stories. These includes books with folklore references (such as the “Harry Potter” series) or with references to mythology (such as the “Percy Jackson” series).  New titles such as Katherine Rundell’s Impossible Creatures (New York: Alfred A. Knopp, 2024), focus on a specific element from folklore.  In this instance, it’s bestiary lore.
    Louise Erdich’s Birchbark House (New York: HyperionBooks for Children, 1999) is a work of historical fiction.  This book depicts the oral tradition as part of the Native American culture and includes several stories based on indigenous mythology.

    For more information see the author’s reading, “Teen Story Share - “The Birchbark House” ch. 1”:  https://youtu.be/Yq0RNAE855I?si=mIS1PQqgp0l7votI
    J.K. Rowling’s “Harry Potter’s” series of books is filled with elements from folklore and mythology.  The first book in the series is a chapter book written for young readers. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (New York, Scholastic, 1998).  (American edition.)

    For more information see, “The Myths and Folktales Behind Harry Potter”: https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20161122-the-myths-and-folktales-behind-harry-potter
    Rick Riordan’s “Percy Jackson” books bring Greek mythology into the modern world. The first book in this series is Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightening Thief (New York: Hyperion Books, 2005).

    For more information see these teacher/parent guides: https://rickriordan.com/book/the-lightning-thief/

Young Adult

    The definition of “Young Adult” literature is a bit vague.  Is it books with a teenage protagonist?  Does the text concern teenage issues or theme?  Is it written for the reading level of those 12-18 years old?  Perhaps all of these apply.  And yet, classifying a book as YA is not often easy.  Today J.R.R. Tolkien’s books, from The Hobbit to his Lord of the Rings series, are sometimes considered chapter books, YA or adult fiction.
    Still, this is a genre where folklore has taken hold.  Examples include Robin McKinley’s retellings of classic fairy tales (for example, Spindle’s End, a “Sleeping Beauty” takeoff), Juliet Marillier’s “Sevenwaters” series (based on the Irish myth “The Children of Lir”) and Susan Cooper’s “The Dark is Rising Series” (based on Welsh folklore).

    For an audiobook preview see: https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=ydafFyl_A08

    For more information see: https://julietmarillier.com/

    For an author discussion see: “The Dark is Rising: Susan Cooper, Natalie Haynes, Simon McBurney and Robert MacFarlane”:  https://youtu.be/WfsKMvgklpE?si=I8jW1FZv2_ociH4S
    Tracy Deonn’s Legendborn (New York: Margaret K. McElderry Books, 2020) puts a contemporary spin on the King Arthur legend.  It’s a book with a young Black protagonist who discovers her own power and abilities within the southern world of slavery and White supremacy.

    For more information and bonus materials see: https://www.tracydeonn.com/legendborn and also “5 Reasons to be Riveted by LEGENDBORN by Tracy Deonn,” https://youtu.be/YwUALQ9nEW8?si=gTyaDviSQMmpnLK0     These are only a few examples of how folklore has and will continue to permeate children’s literature.  Its tales provide narrative content and familiar motifs which authors use to seed their work. Folklore is also a rich resource for fantasy world creation (from artifacts, to characters, and creatures).  Further, these stories continue to live in literature and fan fiction – spreading them far and wide.
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    Dear readers, do you know any other books that might be included in these categories?  Be on the alert for new tellings of old tales in children’s literature. For as Doctor Who discovered, “This song is ending, but the story never ends.”