It would have no
doubt come as a bit of a surprise to John
MacDonald of Highbridge, Brae Lochaber, if he was told, after
recounting a story he knew as ‘Am Fàinne anns an Iasg’ (‘The Ring in the
Fish’), its origins in all likelihood were to be found in Greek mythology.
MacDonald was recorded by Calum Maclean on the 25th August 1951 and his story
was committed to paper when transcription took place shortly afterwards. The essence of the story relates how a ring is
lost, deliberately or not, in water, and is not expected to found again; but is
later discovered inside a fish which has been caught. The classic
version of the story
maybe more familiar through its
rendering by the Greek historian Herodotus. The
story may have entered Gaelic
tradition from the twelfth-century Scottish hagiography Life of St. Kentigern. Although the saint is not
explicitly mentioned in this Lochaber
version, it contains all the instances which would place it, in all likelihood,
from such a source. Likewise, the version given
in the hagiography may indeed stem from an Irish source as the very
same tale
occurs in the eighth or ninth-century
Táin Bó Fraích.
AM FÀINNE ANNS AN IASG
Bha duine ann an seo
agus bha e pòsda agus boireannach gasda aige, boireannach laghach, coibhneil,
bàidheil. Ach bha gille aig an duine airson a bhith a’ coimhead na dheaghaidh
fhèin agus is deaghaidh an taighe. Ach a’ bhean aige nach ann a ghabh i
mòr-ghaol air a’ ghille. Cha do chuir e fairidh air dad. Ach bhiodh an gille
seo leis a h-uile car a bhiodh e a’ dol. Agus chaidh iad an àirde am monadh
agus nuair a chaidh thuit e na chadal na gille. Choimhead an duine mun cuairt
agus bha an gille na chadal. Is dè chunnaic e air meur a’ ghille ach am fàinne
aig a bhean:
“O, tha rudeigin eadar
thusa agus a bhean,” thuirt e ris fhèin.
Ach thug e am fàinne
dheth cho fàilidh agus cho sàmhach is a b' urrainn dà. Agus thilg e am fàinne
anns an abhainn. Chaidh e dhachaigh. Cha do ghabh e dad air. Thuirt e ris a’
bhean:
“Càite eil am fàinne
agad?”
“Och, chuir mi gu taobh
an aiteigin e,” thuirt i. “Gheibh mi e.”
“Feumaidh e a bhith agad
a-màireach,” thuirt esan, “aig dà uair deug, air no bidh an còrr mu dheidhinn.”
Cha robh e an dùil idir
gum b’ urrainn dhith fhaotainn. Nach do dh’innis i dhan ghille a h-uile car:
“Dh’ionndraich mi am
fàinne,” thuirt e, “agus shaoil leam gur h-ann a chaill mi e.”
“Ma-tà, tha esa’ an
deaghaidh am fàinne fhaotainn agus bidh an rud gu h-olc. Ach tha
bana-bhuisdeach thall anns an àite sin. Ruig i feuch dè their i, a tha aice ri
ghràitinn.”
’S e seo a rinn an gille
is e gu math trom-intinneach agus bruaidleanach gun èireadh gu h-olc don bhean
aig an duine eile.
“Dèan thusa mar seo,”
thuirt i. “Bi ann an dùrachd glè mhath ris na briathran a their mi agus obair
riut fhèin: “Gheibh mi e” agus “Gheibh mi e”. Ach feuma’ tu,” thuirt e, “an
dealbh aig a’ bhoireannach fhaotainn, a h-iomhaigh a chuir fos cionn an uisge
agus driamlach a thoirt leat agus dubhan. Tilg a-mach an driamlach agus cha bhi
thu fad gus an tig iasg. Nuair a thig an t-iasg, fosgail an t-iasg a tha sin
agus gheibh thu am fàinne na bhroinn.”
’S ann mar sin a rinn e.
Thàinig an t-iasg is ghlac e an dubhan. Shlaod e gu taobh tìre e. Agus
dh’fhosgail e an t-iasg. Nuair a dh’fhosgail e an t-iasg fhuair e am fàinne.
“Och,” thuirt e, “faoda’
mi an t-iasg – de is motha orm-sa e, a thilgeil air ais.”
Thilg e an t-iasg air
ais don abhainn agus ’s e iasg cho luaineach is a bha san abhainn. Cha do chuir
e nitheann air, ged a chaidh fhosgladh agus am fàinne a thoirt a-mach. Chaidh
am fàinne a thoirt don bhoireannach agus aig dà uair deug mar a thuirt e.
“Shin agad am fàinne.”
Cha robh fhios aig an
duine dè theireadh e. Thuirt an gille an ceann uair a thìm na rudeigin:
“Dh’ionndraidh mi am
fàinne agam. Saoil an do chaill mi e nuair a bha mi gu h-àrd air a’ chnoc leat
ann an sin?”
“Cha bhi e furasda
fhaotainn san fheur ged a rachamaid ga shiubhal,” thuirt esa’.
“Ach tha e cho colta’ ri
fàinne a’ bhean agam is a chunna mi riamh,” thuirt e.
“O, faoda’ sin a bhith,”
thuirt an gille.
“Ach tha mi a’ tuigsinn
gur h-e am fàinne agad a bh’ ann is tha mi glè dhuilich gun do chaill thu e.”
Agus sin mar a bha an
t-sìth eadar a’ bhean agus an duine: mar a bha an t-iasg a thug am fàinne chun
taobh tìr agus a’ bhana-bhuidseach a chuidich iad.
And the translation may be rendered as follows:
THE RING IN THE FISH
There was a local man and he was married to a fine woman
who was nice, friendly and kind. This man also had a servant who looked after
him and also after the house. But his wife fell deeply in love with the servant
lad. The husband had not noticed anything. Tthe servant lad would go everywhere he went. They went up the hill and then the servant lad fell
asleep. The husband looked around and saw the servant lad sleeping and what did
he see on the servant lad’s finger but his wife’s ring.
“Oh, there something
between you and my wife,” he thought to himself.
He removed the ring as
carefully and as silently as he could and threw the ring into the river. He
then returned home. He prentended nothing was wrong. He asked his wife:
“Where’s your ring?”
“Oh, I put it to one
side or another,” she said. “I’ll go and get it.”
“You must have it by
tomorrow,” he said, “by mid-day or there’ll be trouble.”
He didn’t expect that
she would be able to find it. She told the servant lad all about it.
“I’m missing the ring,”
he said, “and I think that I’ve lost
it.”
“Well, then, he’s got
the ring and things will turn out badly. But there is a witch over in yonder place. Go over to see what she’s got to say.”
This the servant lad did
and he was greatry troubled about what would happen to the man’s wife.
“You’ll do this,” she
said. “And you must take what I say seriously so that it’ll work for you: “I’ll get it” and ‘I’ll get it.” But you
must,” she said, “get a picture of the woman, and to place her image over the
water and to get a rod and line. Throw out the line and it’ll not be long
before you catch a fish. Once you’ve caught the fish, open the fish and you’ll
find the ring inside.”
This is how it happened. He caught the fish with the hook and pulled it landward. He opened the fish and found the
ring.
“Och,” he said,” I may
as well throw the fish back in.”
So he threw the fish
back in the river and it was a very swift fish. He didn’t give it a second
thought he opened up the fish and
retrieved the ring. The ring was given to the woman and at mid-day as was said:
“There you have the
ring.”
The man didn’t know what
to say. The sevant lad said after an hour or two:
“I’ve been missing my
ring. Do you think that I lost it when I accompanied you up the hill there?”
“It’ll not be easy to
find it in the grass even if we
went to look for it,” he said. “But it looks ike my wife’s ring as anything else I’ve ever seen,” he said.
“Oh, that may well be,”
said the servant lad.
“But I understand that
it was your ring and I am very sorry that you’ve lost it.”
And that is how peace came about between the husband and his wife: just as the ring
had been taken from the fish that was landed through the help of the witch who
came to their aid.
One
of the earliest sources or inspirations is, as stated, the Greek tale of
Polycrates or Polykrates, ruler of Samos, According to Herodotus (c. 484–424 B.C.), known as “The Father
of History”, first coined by Cicero, Polycrates was making
a treaty with Amasis, an Egyptian king, when Amasis told Polycrates to dispose
of some of his most valued possessions, explaining that even he must experience
hardships and sorrow, or his life will end in tragedy. Polycrates, taking to
heart the king’s advice, threw away some of his possessions including his most
prized, emerald ring. The loss of the ring weighed heavily upon Polycrates. One
day a fisherman brought to him a great fish as tribute, and as is the custom,
had the fish gutted. When the fish was cut open, Polycrates much to his own
surprise and delight found his old emerald ring.
The Sanskrit
drama of of Śakuntalā,
as written by Kālidāsa,
is also a parallel. A king fell in love with Śakuntalā, whom he married and
gifted an emerald ring, with his name engraved upon it. On his return to the
capital, however, he forgot about Śakuntalā until one day a fisherman was seen
selling such a ring in the marketplace and had been arrested. The fisherman
told the king that he had found the ring in the belly of a fish. The king thus
remembers Sakúntala and they are reunited.
Another
early variant, could be the Talmudic
tale of the biblical
Solomon, who recovers his signet ring in a similar manner. A similar Talmudic
tales is one in which a wealthy and irreligious man who heard from an
astrologer that all his worldly goods shall one day belong to his neighbour
Joseph, a poor and religious man, sold all his wealth and bought a large
diamond which he attached onto his turban. One day while trying to cheat the
stars again, by leaving his old home he embarked on a ship for a distant port.
On the deck a great wind blew, taking his turban and diamond with it into the
depth of the sea. Shortly after this event Joseph was preparing his fish for
cooking on sabbath eve, when inside the fish’s innards he saw a large diamond,
all that remained of the wealthy man’s riches.
An
Irish variation is found in Táin Bó Fraích, in which Ailill
gives his daughter Findabair
a ring, which she then gifts to her lover Fraech, who is hated by Ailill.
Ailill discovers the ring among Fraech’s things, and throws it into the river,
where it is swallowed by a salmon.
Fraech sees this, commands a servant to catch the salmon and cook it. When
Ailill demands the ring, Findabair sends a servant to deliver the fish with the
ring on top. Ailill demands that Fraech tell where the ring came from, and
Fraech lies, saying he found it in the salmon and not before. Despite the lie,
Fraech and Findabair are able to depart for their own lands.
As
mentioned earlier, in Jocelyn’s
Life of St Kentigern,
King Rederech of
Strathclyde discovers Queen Languueth’s affair with a soldier, to whom she gave
a ring. The king steals the ring from the sleeping soldier, and demands that
the queen produce the ring in three days or else face death. Languueth
confesses her sin to St Kentigern, who then commands a messenger to go fishing
in the Clyde;
a salmon is caught, gutted, and the ring is found. The queen then produces the
ring for the king, and escapes death.
For
the sake of comparison, a variation of this tale entitled ‘The Fish and the
Ring’ was published by Joseph Jacobs in his famous collection English Fairy Tales. As can be readily
seen from the previous discussion, the tales has several parallels from the
literature, mythology and folklore of various cultures throughout the world:
Once upon a time,
there was a mighty baron in the North Countrie who was a great magician that
knew everything that would come to pass. So one day, when his little boy was
four years old, he looked into the Book of Fate to see what would happen to
him. And to his dismay, he found that his son would wed a lowly maid that had
just been born in a house under the shadow of York Minster. Now the Baron knew
the father of the little girl was very, very poor, and he had five children
already. So he called for his horse, and rode into York; and passed by the
father’s house, and saw him sitting by the door, sad and doleful. So he
dismounted and went up to him and said: “What is the matter, my good man?” And
the man said: “Well, your honour, the fact is, I’ve five children already, and
now a sixth’s come, a little lass, and where to get the bread from to fill
their mouths, that’s more than I can say.”
“Don’t be
downhearted, my man,” said the Baron. “If that’s your trouble, I can help you.
I’ll take away the last little one, and you wont have to bother about her.”
“Thank you kindly,
sir,” said the man; and he went in and brought out the lass and gave her to the
Baron, who mounted his horse and rode away with her. And when he got by the
bank of the river Ouse, he threw the little, thing into the river, and rode off
to his castle.
But the little lass
didn’t sink; her clothes kept her up for a time, and she floated, and she
floated, till she was cast ashore just in front of a fisherman’s hut. There the
fisherman found her, and took pity on the poor little thing and took her into
his house, and she lived there till she was fifteen years old, and a fine
handsome girl.
One day it happened
that the Baron went out hunting with some companions along the banks of the
River Ouse, and stopped at the fisherman’s hut to get a drink, and the girl
came out to give it to them. They all noticed her beauty, and one of them said
to the Baron: “You can read fates, Baron, whom will she marry, d’ye think?”
“Oh! that’s easy to
guess,” said the Baron; “some yokel or other. But I’ll cast her horoscope. Come
here girl, and tell me on what day you were born?”
“I don’t know, sir,”
said the girl, “I was picked up just here after having been brought down by the
river about fifteen years ago.”
Then the Baron knew
who she was, and when they went away, he rode back and said to the girl: “Hark
ye, girl, I will make your fortune. Take this letter to my brother in
Scarborough, and you will be settled for life.” And the girl took the letter
and said she would go. Now this was what he had written in the letter:
“Dear Brother,–Take
the bearer and put her to death immediately.
“Yours
affectionately,
“Albert.”
So soon after the
girl set out for Scarborough, and slept for the night at a little inn. Now that
very night a band of robbers broke into the inn, and searched the girl, who had
no money, and only the letter. So they opened this and read it, and thought it
a shame. The captain of the robbers took a pen and paper and wrote this letter:
“Dear Brother,–Take
the bearer and marry her to my son immediately.
“Yours
affectionately,
“Albert.”
And then he gave it
to the girl, bidding her begone. So she went on to the Baron’s brother at
Scarborough, a noble knight, with whom the Baron’s son was staying. When she
gave the letter to his brother, he gave orders for the wedding to be prepared
at once, and they were married that very day.
Soon after, the Baron
himself came to his brother’s castle, and what was his surprise to find that
the very thing he had plotted against had come to pass. But he was not to be
put off that way; and he took out the girl for a walk, as he said, along the
cliffs. And when he got her all alone, he took her by the arms, and was going
to throw her over. But she begged hard for her life. “I have not done
anything," she said: “if you will only spare me, I will do whatever you
wish. I will never see you or your son again till you desire it.” Then the
Baron took off his gold ring and threw it into the sea, saying: “Never let me
see your face till you can show me that ring;” and he let her go.
The poor girl
wandered on and on, till at last she came to a great noble’s castle, and she
asked to have some work given to her; and they made her the scullion girl of
the castle, for she had been used to such work in the fisherman’s hut.
Now one day, who
should she see coming up to the noble’s house but the Baron and his brother and
his son, her husband. She didn’t know what to do; but thought they would not
see her in the castle kitchen. So she went back to her work with a sigh, and
set to cleaning a huge big fish that was to be boiled for their dinner. And, as
she was cleaning it, she saw something shine inside it, and what do you think
she found? Why, there was the Baron’s ring, the very one he had thrown over the
cliff at Scarborough. She was right glad to see it, you may be sure. Then she
cooked the fish as nicely as she could, and served it up.
Well, when the fish
came on the table, the guests liked it so well that they asked the noble who
cooked it. He said he didn’t know, but called to his servants: “Ho, there, send
up the cook that cooked that fine fish.” So they went down to the kitchen and
told the girl she was wanted in the hall. Then she washed and tidied herself
and put the Baron’s gold ring on her thumb and went up into the hall.
When the banqueters
saw such a young and beautiful cook they were surprised. But the Baron was in a
tower of a temper, and started up as if he would do her some violence. So the
girl went up to him with her hand before her with the ring on it; and she put
it down before him on the table. Then at last the Baron saw that no one could
fight against Fate, and he handed her to a seat and announced to all the
company that this was his son’s true wife; and he took her and his son home to
his castle; and they all lived as happy as could be ever afterwards.
Classification:
AT 736A, The Ring
of Polycrates. A king throws a ring into the sea. It is found next day in
a fish brought to him.
|
ML 7050, Ring
thrown into the Water and recovered in a Fish. 'Polykrates'
|
Motifs:
|
N211.1. Lost ring found in fish. (Polycrates.)
|
H94.0.1. Recognition of wife's ring in friend’s possession informs husband of her unfaithfulness.
|
References:
Jackson,
Kenneth H. The International
Popular Tale and Early Welsh Tradition (Cardiff: University
of Wales, 1962), pp. 25–27
ven der Veen, ‘The Lord of the Ring: ‘Narrative
Technique in Herodotus’ Story on Polycrates’ Ring’, Mnemosyne, vol. 46 (1993), pp. 433–57
SSS NB 6, pp. 490–92
Image:
The King and the Fisherman
