Ulrich and Roth Ännchen go on a walk, and come first to a fir-tree, then
a green mead. The next scene is exactly as in #T#. Ulrich says the
eleven maids were his wives, and that he had thrust his sword through
their hearts. Annie asks for three _sighs_, and directs them to God, to
Jesus, and to her youngest brother. He is sitting over his wine, when
the sigh comes into the window, and Ulrich simultaneously in at the
door. The remainder is very much as in #T#.
#V# differs from #U# only in the names, which are Schön-Heinrich and
Schön-Ännelein, and in the "sighs" returning to cries, which invoke God,
father, and brother.
#W# begins with a rivalry between Ulrich and Hanselein[51] for the hand
of Rautendelein (Rautendchen). Ulrich is successful. She packs up her
jewels, and he takes her to a wood, where she sees eleven maids hanging.
He assures her she shall presently be the twelfth. It is then they sit
down, and she leans her head on his breast and weeps, "because," as she
says, "I must die." His remark upon this, if there was any, is lost.
Hoffmann inserts a stanza from another Silesian copy, in which Ulrich
says, Rather than spare thy life, I will run an iron stake through thee.
She asks for three cries, and he says, Four, if you want. She prefers
four, and calls to her father, mother, sister, brother. The brother, as
he sits over the wine, hears the cry, and almost instantly Ulrich comes
in at the door. He pretends to have killed a dove; the brother knows
what dove, and hews off Ulrich's head, with a speech like that in #I#.
Still, as Rautendchen is brought to the grave, with toll of bells, so
Ulrich is mounted on the wheel, where ravens shriek over him.
#X.# Albrecht and Hänselein woo Alalein. She is promised to Albrecht,
but Hänsel gets her. He takes her to a green mead, spreads his mantle on
the grass, and she sits down. His lying in her lap and her discovery of
the awful tree are lost. She weeps, and he tells her she shall be "his
eleventh." Her cries are condensed into one stanza:
'Gott Vater, Sohn, Herr Jesu Christ,
Mein jüngster Bruder, wo Du bist!'
Her brother rides in the direction of the voice, and meets Hänselein in
the wood, who says Alalein is sitting with princes and counts. The
conclusion is as in #T#, #U#, #V#.
#Y# has Ansar Uleraich wooing a king's daughter, Annle, to the eighth
year. He takes her to a fir-wood, then to a fir, a stump of a tree, a
spring; in each case bidding her sit down. At the spring he asks her if
she wishes to be drowned, and, upon her saying no, cuts off her head.
He has not walked half a mile before he meets her brother. The brother
inquires where Ulrich has left his sister, and the reply is, "By the
green Rhine." The conclusion is as in #W#. Ulrich loses his head, and
the brother pronounces the imprecation which is found there and in
I.[52]
#Z#, which takes us back from Eastern Germany to the Rhine, combines
features from all the three groups. Ulrich fascinates a king's daughter
by his song. She collects her gold and jewels, as in #W#, and goes to a
wood, where a dove warns her that she will be betrayed. Ulrich
appropriates her valuables, and they wander about till they come to the
Rhine. There he takes her into a wood, and gives her a choice between
hanging and drowning, and, she declining both, says she shall die by his
sword. But first she is allowed three cries,--to God, her parents, her
youngest brother. The youngest brother demands of Ulrich where he has
left his sister. "Look in my pocket, and you shall find fourteen
tongues, and the last cut [reddest] of all is your sister's." The words
were scarcely out of his mouth before Ulrich's sword had taken off his
head.
The three classes of the German ballad, it will be observed, have for
their principal distinction that in I the maid saves her own life by an
artifice, and takes the life of her treacherous suitor; in II, she is
rescued by her brother, who also kills the traitor; in III, she dies by
the villain's hand, and he by her brother's, or by a public execution.
There are certain subordinate traits which are constant, or nearly so,
in each class. In I, #A-F#, a choice of deaths is invariably offered;
the maid gets the advantage of the murderer by persuading him to take
off his coat [distorted in #F#, which has lost its conclusion]; and, on
her way home, she falls in with one or more of the robber's family,
mother, brothers, servant, who interrogate her [except #F#, which, as
just said, is a fragment]. Class II has several marks of its own. All
the thirteen ballads [#G-S#], except the last, represent the knight as
fascinating the maid by his singing; in all but #Q# she is warned of her
danger by a dove,[53] or more than one; in all but the much-abridged
#M#, #N#, the knight spreads his cloak on the grass, they sit down, and,
excepting #M#, #N#, #R#, the unromantic service is repeated which she
undertakes in Danish #A#, #B#, #D#, #E#, #F#, #H#, #L#, Swedish #A#,
Norwegian #A#, #B#. The bloody spring occurs in some form, though often
not quite intelligible, in #H#, #J#, #K#, #L#, #O#, #P#, #Q#, #R# (also
in #D#, #Y#). All but the much-abridged #M#, #N# have the question, What
are you weeping for? your father's land, humbled pride, lost honor?
etc.; but this question recurs in #T#, #U#, #V#, #W#. The cries for help
are a feature of both the second and the third class, and are wanting
only in #Y#. Class III differs from I, and resembles II, in having the
cries for help, and, in the less impaired forms, #T-W#, the knight
spreads his cloak, lies down with his head in the lady's lap, and asks
the cause of her tears. Beyond this, and the changed catastrophe, the
ballads of Class III are distinguished by what they have lost.
Forms in which the story of this is mixed with that of some other German
ballad remain to be noticed.
#A.# A ballad first published in Nicolai's Almanach, II, 100, No 21
(1778), and since reprinted, under the titles, 'Liebe ohne Stand,' 'Der
Ritter und die Königstochter,' etc., but never with absolute fidelity,
in Wunderhorn (1819), I, 37 (==Erlach, II, 120), Kretzschmer, No 72, I,
129; Mittler, No 89; Erk, Neue Sammlung, iii, 18, No 14; also, with a
few changes, by Zuccalmaglio, No. 95, p. 199, as 'aus Schwaben;' by Erk,
Liederhort, No 28, p. 90, as "corrected from oral tradition;" and as
"from oral tradition," in Erk's Wunderhorn (1857), I, 39. Independent
versions are given by Mittler, No 90, p. 83, from Oberhessen; Pröhle,
Weltliche u. geistliche Volkslieder, No 5, p. 10, from the Harz;
Reifferscheid, No 18, p. 36, from Bökendorf. Erk refers to still another
copy, five stanzas longer than Nicolai's, from Hesse-Darmstadt, Neue
Sammlung, iii, 19, note.
What other ballad is here combined with Ulinger, it is impossible to
make out. The substance of the narrative is that a knight rides singing
through the reeds, and is heard by a king's daughter, who forthwith
desires to go with him. They ride till the horse is hungry [tired]; he
spreads his cloak on the grass, and makes, _sans façon_, his usual
request. The king's daughter sheds many tears, and he asks why. "Had I
followed my father's counsel, I might have been empress." The knight
cuts off her head at the word, and says, Had you held your tongue, you
would have kept your head. He throws the body behind a tree, with Lie
there and rot; my young heart must mourn [no knight, a knight, shall
mourn over thee]. Another stanza or two, found in some versions, need
not be particularly noticed.
'Stolz Sieburg,' Simrock, No 8, p. 21, from the Rhine, Mittler, No 88,
is another and somewhat more rational form of the same story. To the
question whether she is weeping for Gut, Muth, Ehre, the king's daughter
answers:
'Ich wein um meine Ehre,
Ich wollt gern wieder umkehren.'
For this Stolz Sieburg strikes off her head, with a speech like that
which we have just had, and throws it into a spring; then resolves to
hang himself.[54]
A #Dutch# version of this ballad, Le Jeune, No 92, p. 292; Willems, No
72, p. 186; Hoffmann, No 29, p. 92, has less of the Halewyn in it, and
more motive than the German, though less romance. "If you might have
been an empress," says the knight, "I, a margrave's son, will marry you
to-morrow." "I would rather lose my head than be your wife," replies the
lady; upon which he cuts off her head and throws it into a fountain,
saying, Lie there, smiling mouth! Many a thousand pound have you cost
me, and many pence of red gold. Your head is clean cut off.
#B.# The Ulinger story is also found combined with that of the beautiful
ballad, 'Wassermanns Braut.'[55] (1.) In a Transylvanian ballad,
'Brautmörder,' Schuster, Siebenbürgisch-sächsische Volkslieder, p. 57,
No 54 #A#, 38 vv, with variations, and p. 59, #B#, a fragment of 10 vv;
(#A# in a translation, Böhme, No 14, p. 61.) A king from the Rhine sues
seven years for a king's daughter, and does not prevail till the eighth.
She begs her mother not to consent, for she has seen it in the sun that
she shall not long be her daughter, in the moon that she shall drown
before the year is out, in the bright stars that her blood shall be
dispersed far and wide. He takes her by the hand, and leads her through
a green wood, at the end of which a grave is already made. He pushes her
into the grave, and drives a stake through her heart. The princess'
brother asks what has become of his sister. "I left her on the Rhine,
drinking mead and wine." "Why are your skirts so bloody?" "I have shot a
turtle-dove." "That turtle-dove was, mayhap, my sister." They spit him
on a red-hot stake, and roast him like a fish. Lines 1-4 of this ballad
correspond to 1-4 of #Y# (which last agree with 1-4 of Meinert's
'Wassermanns Braut'); 17, 18, to #Y# 5, 6; 25-34 to 21-30; and we find
in verse 22 the stake through the heart which Hoffmann has interpolated
in #W#, stanza 12.
(2.) A Silesian copy of 'Wassermanns Braut,' co[llecte]d by [Ho]ffman
contributed to Deutsches Museum, 1852, II, 164, represents the bride,
after she has fallen into the water and has been recovered by the nix,
as asking for three cries, and goes on from this point like the Ulrich
ballad #W#, the conclusion being that the sister is drowned before the
brother comes to her aid.[56]
'Nun schürz dich, Gredlein,' "Forster's Frische Liedlein, No 66," Böhme,
No 53, Uhland, No 256 A, which is of the date 1549, and therefore older
than the Nuremberg and Augsburg broadsides, has derived stanzas 7-9 from
an Ulinger ballad, unless this passage is to be regarded as common
property. Some copies of the ballad commonly called 'Müllertücke' have
also adopted verses from Ulinger, especially that in Meier's Schwäbische
Volkslieder, No 233, p. 403.
A form of ballad resembling English #C-F#, but with some important
differences, is extraordinarily diffused in #Poland#. There is also a
single version of the general type of English #A#, or, better, of the
first class of the German ballads. This version, #A#, Pauli,
Pieśńi ludu Polskiego w Galicyi, p. 90, No 5, and Kolberg,
Pieśni ludu Polskiego, No 5, #bbb#, p. 70, runs thus. There was a man
who went about the world wiling away young girls from father and mother.
He had already done this with eight; he was now carrying off the ninth.
He took her to a frightful wood; then bade her look in the direction of
her house. She asked, "What is that white thing that I see on yon fir?"
"There are already eight of them," he said, "and you shall be the ninth;
never shall you go back to your father and mother. Take off that gown,
Maria." Maria was looking at his sword. "Don't touch, Maria, for you
will wound your pretty little hands." "Don't mind my hands, John," she
replied, "but rather see what a bold heart I have;" and instantly John's
head flew off. Then follows a single stanza, which seems to be addressed
to John's mother, after the manner of the German #A#, etc.: "See, dear
mother! I am thy daughter-in-law, who have just put that traitor out of
the world." There is a moral for conclusion, which is certainly a later
addition.
The other ballads may be arranged as follows, having regard chiefly to
the catastrophe. #B#, Kolberg, No 5, #oo#: #C#, #rr#: #D#, #ccc#: #E#,
#dd#: #F#, #uu#: #G#, #ww#: #H#, #t#: #I#, #u#: #J#, #gg#: #K#, #mm#:
#L#, Wacław z Oleska, p. 483, 2, Kolberg, #p#: #L*#, Kozłowski,
Lud, p. 33, No IV: #M#, Wojcicki, I, 234, Kolberg, #r#: #N#, Wojcicki,
I, 82, Kolberg, #s#: #O#, Kolberg, #d#: #P#, _ib._ #f#: #Q#, #pp#: #R#,
Wojcicki, I, 78, Kolberg, #e#: #S#, Kolberg, #l#: #T#, _ib._ #n#: #U#,
Pauli, Pjeśńi ludu Polskiego w Galicyi, p. 92, No 6, Kolberg, #q#:
#V#, Kolberg, #y#: #W#, Wojcicki, II, 298, "J. Lipiński, Pieśni
ludu Wielkopolskiego, p. 34," Kolberg, #ee#; #X#, Kolberg, #a#: #Y#,
_ib._ #z#: #Z#, #aa#: #AA#, #qq#: #BB#, #w#; #CC#, #ddd#: #DD#, #m#:
#EE#, #c#: #FF#, #o#: #GG#, łł: #HH#, #ss#: #II#, #ii#: #JJ#,
#ff#: #KK#, #tt#: #LL#, #i#: #MM#, #g*#. In #B-K# the woman comes off
alive from her adventure: in #O-CC#, she loses her life: in #L-N# there
is a jumble of both conclusions: #DD-MM# are incomplete.[57]
The story of the larger part of these ballads, conveyed as briefly as
possible, is this: John, who is watering horses, urges Catherine,[58]
who is drawing water, to elope with him. He bids her take silver and
gold enough, that the horse may have something to carry. Catherine says
her mother will not allow her to enter the new chamber. Tell her that
you have a headache, says John, and she will consent. Catherine feigns a
headache, is put into the new chamber, and absconds with John while her
mother is asleep.[59] At a certain stage, more commonly at successive
stages,--on the high road, #K#, #P#, #S#, #DD#, #II#, #LL#, in a dark
wood, #D#, #P#, #T#, #X#, #Z#, #DD#, #EE#, at a spring, #D#, #K#, #S#,
#T#, #V#, #W#, #X#, #Y#, #Z#, #EE#, #II#, #LL#, etc.,--he bids her take
off, or himself takes from her, her "rich attire," #D#, #P#, #T#, #V#,
#W#, #X#, #Y#, #Z#, #DD#, #EE#, her satin gown, #D#, #T#, #X#, #DD#,
#EE#, her French or Turkish costume, #K#, #P#, #II#, robes of silver,
#K#, shoes, #Z#, #CC#, #FF#, silk stockings, #T#, corals, #D#, #X#,
#CC#, #EE#, pearls, #T#, rings, #K#, #O-T#, #X#, #Z#, #CC-FF#, #II#,
#LL#. In many of the ballads he tells her to go back to her mother,
#B-G#, #K#, #L*#, #M#, #N#, #Q#, #S#, #U#, #X#, #Y#, #EE#, #HH-LL#,
sometimes after pillaging her, sometimes without mention of this.
Catherine generally replies that she did not come away to have to go
back, #B#, #C#, #D#, #G#, #L*#, #M#, #S#, #U#, #X#, #Y#, #EE#, #HH#,
#JJ#, #KK#, #LL#. John seizes her by the hands and sides and throws her
into a deep river [pool, water, sea]. Her apron [tress, #AA#, #II#, both
apron and tress, #O#, petticoat, #KK#] is caught on a stake or stump of
a tree, #B#, #C#, #G#, #H#, #I#, #O#, #P#, #R#, #T#, #U#, #V#, #W#, #Y#,
#BB#, #DD#, #EE#, #II#, #JJ#, #KK# [in a bush #D#]. John cuts it away
with axe or sword, #G#, #I#, #O#, #R#, #T#, #BB#, #II#, #JJ#. She cries
to him for help. He replies, "I did not throw you in to help you
out,"[60] #B#, #C#, #F#, #P#, #U#, #V#, #W#, #X#, #Z#, #EE#, #II#.
Catherine is drawn ashore in a fisherman's net [swims ashore #I#, #J#,
#GG#].
Catherine comes out from the water alive in #B-N#. The brother who plays
so important a part in the second class of German ballads, appears also
in a few of the Polish versions, #B#, #C#, #D#, and #L*#, #O#, #P#, #Q#,
#X#, but is a mere shadow. In #B# 21, 22, and #C# 16, 17, the brother,
who is "on the mountain," and may be supposed to hear the girl's cry,
slides down a silken cord, which proves too short, and the girl "adds
her tress"! He asks the fishermen to throw their nets for her. She is
rescued, goes to church, takes an humble place behind the door, and,
when her eyes fall on the young girls, melts into tears. Her apron
catches in a bush in #D#: she plucks a leaf, and sends it down the
stream to her mother's house. The mother says to the father, "Do you not
see how Catherine is perishing?" The leaf is next sent down stream to
her sister's house, who says to her brother, "Do you not see how
Catherine is perishing?" He rides up a high mountain, and slides down
his silken cord. Though one or two stanzas are lost, or not given, the
termination was probably the same as in #B#, #C#. In #L*# 15, #O# 12,
the brother, on a high mountain, hears the cry for help, and slides down
to his sister on a silken cord, but does nothing. #X# does not account
for the brother's appearance: he informs the fishermen of what has
happened, and they draw Catherine out, evidently dead. The brother hears
the cry from the top of a wall in #P# 21, 22; slides down his cord; the
sister adds her tress; he directs the fishermen to draw her out; she is
dead. Instead of the brother on the wall, we have a mason in #Q# 27
[perhaps "the brother on the wall" in #P# _is_ a mason]. It is simply
said that "he added" a silken cord: the fishermen drew out Catherine
dead. The conclusion is equally, or more, impotent in all the versions
in which the girl escapes from drowning. In #G#, #I#, #J#, she seats
herself on a stone, and apostrophizes her hair, saying [in #G#, #I#],
"Dry, my locks, dry, for you have had much pleasure in the river!" She
goes to church, takes an humble place, and weeps, in #E#, #F#, #G#, as
in #B#, #C#, #D#. John goes scot-free in all these.[61] Not so in the
more vigorous ballads of tragic termination. Fierce pursuit is made for
him. He is cut to pieces, or torn to pieces, #O#, #P#, #S#, #T#, #Y#;
broken on the wheel, #L#, #U#, #V#, #W#; cleft in two, #BB#; broken
small as barley-corns, or quartered, by horses, #L*#, #Z#; committed to
a dungeon, to await, as we may hope, one of these penalties, #Q#, #R#.
The bells toll for Catherine [the organs play for her], and she is laid
in the grave, #O-W#, #Y#, #Z#, #L#, #L*#.
There are, besides, in various ballads of this second class, special
resemblances to other European forms. The man (to whom rank of any sort
is assigned only in #N#[62]) comes from a distant country, or from over
the border, in #O#, #Q#, #R#, #T#, #DD#, #GG#, as in English #D#, #E#.
The maid is at a window in #M#, #W#, as in German #G#, #J#, #M#, #O#,
#P#, #Q#, etc. In #Q# 2, John, who has come from over the border,
persuades the maid to go with him by telling her that in his country
"the mountains are golden, the mountains are of gold, the ways of silk,"
reminding us of the wonderland in Danish #A#, #E#, etc. After the pair
have stolen away, they go one hundred and thirty miles, #O#, #DD#, #FF#;
thrice nine miles, #Q#; nine and a half miles, #T#; cross one field and
another, #M#, #R#; travel all night, #GG#; and neither says a word to
the other. We shall find this trait further on in French #B#, #D#,
Italian #B#, #C#, #D#, #F#, #G#. The choice of deaths which we find in
German #A-F# appears in #J#. Here, after passing through a silent wood,
they arrive at the border of the (red) _sea_. She sits down on a stone,
he on a rotten tree. He asks, By which death will you die: by my right
hand, or by drowning in this _river_? They come to a dark wood in #AA#;
he seats himself on a beech-trunk, she near a stream. He asks, Will you
throw yourself into the river, or go home to your mother? So #H#, and
#R# nearly.[63] She prefers death to returning. Previous victims are
mentioned in #T#, #DD#, #HH#. When she calls from the river for help, he
answers, #T# 22, You fancy you are the only one there; six have gone
before, and you are the seventh: #HH# 16, Swim the river; go down to the
bottom; six maids are there already, and you shall be the seventh [four,
fifth]: #DD# 13, Swim, swim away, to the other side; there you will see
my seventh wife.[64]
Other Slavic forms of this ballad resemble more or less the third German
class. A #Wendish# version from Upper Lusatia, Haupt and Schmaler, Part
I, No I, p. 27, makes Hilžička (Lizzie) go out before dawn to cut
grass. Hołdrašk suddenly appears, and says she must pay him some
forfeit for trespassing in his wood. She has nothing but her sickle, her
silver finger-ring, and, when these are rejected, her wreath, and that,
she says, he shall not have if she dies for it. Hołdrašk, who
avows that he has had a fancy for her seven years (cf. German #Y#, and
the Transylvanian mixed form #B#), gives her her choice, to be cut to
pieces by his sword, or trampled to death by his horse. Which way
pleases him, she says, only she begs for three cries. All three are for
her brothers. They ride round the wood twice, seeing nobody; the third
time Hołdrak comes up to them. Then follows the dialogue about the
bloody sword and the dove. When asked where he has left
Hiłžička, Hołdrašk is silent. The elder brother seizes
him, the younger dispatches him with his sword.
Very similar is a #Bohemian# ballad, translated in Waldau's Böhmische
Granaten, II, 25.[65] While Katie is cutting grass, early in the
morning, Indriasch presents himself, and demands some for his horse. She
says, You must dismount, if your horse is to have grass. "If I do, I
will take away your wreath." "Then God will not grant you his blessing."
He springs from his horse, and while he gives it grass with one hand
snatches at the wreath with the other. "Will you die, or surrender your
wreath?" Take my life, she says, but allow me three cries. Two cries
reached no human ear, but the third cry her mother heard, and called to
her sons to saddle, for Katie was calling in the wood, and was in
trouble. They rode over stock and stone, and came to a brook where
Indriasch was washing his hands. The same dialogue ensues as in the
Wendish ballad. The brothers hewed the murderer into fragments.
A #Servian# ballad has fainter but unmistakable traces of the same
tradition: Vuk, Srpske Narodne Pjesme, I, 282, No 385, ed. 1841;
translated by Goetze, Serbische V. L., p. 99, by Talvj, V. L. der
Serben, 2d ed., II, 172, by Kapper, Gesänge der Serben, II, 318. Mara is
warned by her mother not to dance with Thomas. She disobeys. Thomas,
while dancing, gives a sign to his servants to bring horses. The two
ride off, and when they come to the end of a field Thomas says, Seest
thou yon withered maple? There thou shalt hang, ravens eat out thine
eyes, eagles beat thee with their wings. Mara shrieks, Ah me! so be it
with every girl that does not take her mother's advice.[66]
#French.# This ballad is well known in France, and is generally found in
a form resembling the English; that is to say, the scene of the
attempted murder is the sea or a river (as in no other but the Polish),
and the lady delivers herself by an artifice. One French version nearly
approaches Polish #O-CC#.
#A.# 'Renauld et ses quatorze Femmes,' 44 vv, Paymaigre, Chants
populaires recueillis dans le pays messin, No 31, I, 140. Renauld
carried off the king's daughter. When they were gone half-way, she
called to him that she was dying of hunger (cf. German #A-F#). Eat your
hand, he answered, for you will never eat bread again. When they had
come to the middle of the wood, she called out that she was dying of
thirst. Drink your blood, he said, for you will never drink wine again.
When they came to the edge of the wood, he said, Do you see that river?
Fourteen dames have been drowned there, and you shall be the fifteenth.
When they came to the river-bank, he bade her put off her cloak, her
shift. It is not for knights, she said, to see ladies in such plight;
they should bandage their eyes with a handkerchief. This Renauld did,
and the fair one threw him into the river. He laid hold of a branch; she
cut it off with his sword (cf. the Polish ballad, where the catastrophe,
and consequently this act, is reversed). "What will they say if you go
back without your lover?" "I will tell them that I did for you what you
meant to do for me."[67] "Reach me your hand; I will marry you Sunday."
"Marry, marry a fish, Renauld,
The fourteen women down below."