Hiding from troubles

I think this story was in American Negro Folk Tales; I paraphrase somewhat.

There was a man who had a bad time with his wife, and got angry with all women. He had a little boy, so he took the boy way back in the hills with him and raised him there, where the boy never saw a woman or girl at all. When the boy was about 13, his father reckoned he couldn't keep him in the hills forever--he'd have to go to town sometime--so he brought the boy with him to town this time.

He explained the things the boy had never seen before--a cart, a store, and so on. Some girls came by.

"What are those, Daddy?"

"Those are ducks, son."

"I want one, Daddy."

His father sighed. "Which one, son?"

"I don't care, any one."

The tale ended with a "moral" that the father had planned poorly, so his son didn't know how to be appropriately picky when the time came.

I'm not a student of folklore like my Mother's aunt, but that didn't sound like any of the other tales I'd read before, or since. (I didn't see the motif in Thompson's list.)

For irrelevant reasons I was reading Barlaam and Ioasaph supposedly by St. John of Damascus (died 749AD): a fantasy based somewhat on the mythic(*) history of Gautama. Honestly, I skimmed a lot of it. It included this story, told by Theudas as part of his advice to Ioasaph's father.

"A certain king was grieved and exceeding sad at heart, because that he had no male issue, deeming this no small misfortune. While he was in this condition, there was born to him a son, and the king's soul was filled with joy thereat. Then they that were learned amongst his physicians told him that, if for the first twelve years the boy saw the sun or fire, he should entirely lose his sight, for this was proved by the condition of his eyes. Hearing this, the king, they say, caused a little house, full of dark chambers, to be hewn out of the rock, and therein enclosed his child together with the men that nursed him, and, until the twelve years were past, never suffered him to see the least ray of light. After the fulfilment of the twelve years, the king brought forth from his little house his son that had never seen a single object, and ordered his waiting men to show the boy everything after his kind; men in one place, women in another; elsewhere gold and silver; in another place, pearls and precious stones, fine and ornamental vestments, splendid chariots with horses from the royal stables, with golden bridles and purple caparisons, mounted by armed soldiers; also droves of oxen and flocks of sheep. In brief, row after row, they showed the boy everything. Now, as he asked what each ox these was called, the king's esquires and guards made known unto him each by name: but, when he desired to learn what women were called, the king's spearman, they say, wittily replied that they were called, "Devils that deceive men." But the boy's heart was smitten with the love of these above all the rest. So, when they had gone round everywhere and brought him again unto the king, the king asked, which of all these sights had pleased him most. "What," answered the boy, "but the Devils that deceive men? Nothing that I have seen to-day hath fired my heart with such love as these." The king was astonished at the saying of the boy, to think how masterful a thing the love of women is. Therefore think not to subdue thy son in any other way than this."

I wonder if there's a connection.

The story of Ioasaph is freighted with emphasis on the monastic and austere life--explained that baptistm only works once, and you're liable for all the later sins, unless expiated with extreme penitence and austerity. Logical, but not attractive, and I think misses an aspect of incarnation.

(*) I mean "mythic" in a good way. The parable that however hard you try, you can't escape the limits of life is always useful--especially to those who think they can hide limits from themselves. "Tomorrow will be like today, but more so."