modification of Renaud: Jean Renaud, #G#, #H#, #U#; Renom, #AA#; Arnaud,
#C#, #E#, #L#, #Y#, #BB#; L'Arnaud l'Infant, #P#; Louis Renaud, brother
of Jean, #F#. It is Louis in #A#, #I#, #J#, #V#. He is king, or of the
royal family, #F#, #M#, #N#, #O#, #Q#, #W#, #BB#, #CC#, #GG#; count,
#Y#; Renaud le grand, #H#, #Z#. In #A#, while he is walking in his
meadows, he meets Death, who asks him, peremptorily, Would you rather
die this very night, or languish seven years? and he answers that he
prefers to die at once. Here there is a very plain trace of the older
fairy. He is mortally hurt, while hunting, by a wolf, #B#; by a boar,
#DD#. But in more than twenty versions he returns from war, often with a
horrible wound, "apportant son cœur dans sa main," #C#; "tenant ses
tripes dans ses mains," #N#; "oque ses tripes on sa main, sen estoumac
on sen chapea, sen cûr covert de sen mentea," #G#; etc. In #F#, #I#, #J#
he comes home in a dying state from prison (to which he was consigned,
according to #I#, for robbing a church!). In these versions the story is
confused with that of another ballad, existing in Breton, and very
likely in French, 'Komt ar Chapel,' 'Le Comte des Chapelles,' Luzel, I,
456/457, or 'Le Page de Louis XIII,' Villemarqué, Barzaz-Breiz, p. 301.
A fragment of a corresponding Italian ballad is given by Nigra, Romania,
XI, 397, No 9.
Renaud, as it will be convenient to call the hero, coming home triste et
chagrin, #F#, #P#, #U b, c#, triste et bien malau #Y#, receives on his
arriving felicitations from his mother on account of the birth of a son.
He has no heart to respond to these: "Ni de ma femme, ni de mon fils, je
ne saurais me réjoui." He asks that his bed may be made, with
precautions against his wife's hearing. At midnight he is dead.
The wife, hearing the men-servants weeping, asks her mother-in-law the
cause. The best horse [horses] has been found dead in the stable, has
strayed away, etc., #B#, #D-S#, #GG#. "No matter for that," says the
wife; "when Renaud comes he will bring better," #B#, #D-G#, #L-Q#, #GG#.
The maids are heard weeping; why is that? They have lost, or injured,
sheets in the washing, #B#, #D#, #E#, #G#, #J#. When Renaud comes we
shall have better, #B#, #D#, #E#, #G#. Or a piece of plate has been lost
or broken, #A#, #F#, #H#, #I#, #K#, #O#. [It is children with the
toothache, #F#, #U a, b, c, d#]. "What is this chanting which I hear?"
It is a procession, making the tour of the house: #B#, #D-F#, #L#,
#P-X#, #GG#. "What gown shall I wear when I go to church?" Black is the
color for women at their churching, #B#, #F#, #I#, #L#, #M#, #O#, #P#,
#V#, #Y#; black is more becoming, plus joli, plus convenant, plus
conséquent, #A#, #D#, #H#, #K#, #N#, #R#, #X#, #BB#, #DD#, #GG#;
"quittez le ros', quittez le gris, prenez le noir, pour mieux choisir,"
etc., #Q#, #W#, #U#, #E#, #S#, #T#.
Besides these four questions, all of which occur in Breton ballads,
there are two which are met with in many versions, always coming before
the last. "What is this pounding (frapper, cogner, taper) which I hear?"
It is carpenters, or masons, repairing some part of the house, #D#, #E#,
#K#, #L#, #N#, #P-U#, #W#; #A#, #V#, #X#, #AA#; #GG#. "Why are the bells
ringing?" For a procession, or because a distinguished personage has
come, has died, etc., #A#, #B#, #F-L#, #Q#, #R#, #W#, #Y#, #AA#, #DD#,
#GG#. On the way to church [or cemetery] herdboys or others say to one
another, as the lady goes by, That is the wife of the king, the
seigneur, that was buried last night, or the like; and the mother-in-law
has again to put aside the lady's question as to what they were saying,
#D#, #E#, #G#, #H#, #L-P#, #S#, #T#, #X#, #Y#, #FF#, #GG#.
Flambeaux or candles are burning at the church, #E#, #V#; a taper is
presented to the widow, #M#, or holy water, #N#, #T#, #Z#, #GG#; the
church is hung with black, #D#, #O#, #FF#; the funeral is going on,
#AA#, #CC#. "Whose is this new monument?" "What a fine tomb!" #M#, #N#,
#R#, #T#, #Z#, #GG#. The scene in other cases is transferred to the
cemetery. "Why has the earth been disturbed?" "What new monument is
this?" #A#, #DD#; #C#, #F#, #I#, #J#, #P#. In #B# the tomb is in the
garden; in #L#, #S#, #X#, #BB# the place is not defined.
The young wife utters a piercing shriek, #C#, #D#, #K#, #L#, #N#. Open
earth, split tomb, split tiles! #A#, #B#, #Q#, #R#, #V#, #W#, #X#, #Y#;
I will stay with my husband, will die with my husband, will not go back,
#A#, #C#, #D#, #M#, #N#, #Q#, #R#, #S#, #X#, #Y#, #Z#, #BB#, #CC#, #GG#.
She bids her mother take her keys, #B#, #C#, #G#, #L#, #M#, #P#, #Y#,
#BB#, #CC#, #GG#, and commits her son [children] to her kinsfolk, to
bring up piously, #B#, #G#, #I#, #J#, #L#, #M#, #O#, #Z#, #BB#, #CC#. In
#H#, #P#, #Q#, #W#, #X#, #Y# the earth opens, and in the last four it
encloses her. In #K# heaven is rent by her shriek, and she sees her
husband in light (who says, strangely, that his mouth smacks of rot); he
bids her bring up the children as Christians. Heaven opens to her prayer
in #AA#, and a voice cries, Wife, come up hither! In #GG# the voice from
heaven says, Go to your child: I will keep your husband safe. There are
other variations.[361]
#G#, #T#, #I# say expressly that Renaud's wife died the next day, or
after hearing three masses, or soon after. #M#, #O#, by a feeble modern
perversion, make her go into a convent.
#Italian# ballads cover very much the same ground as the French. The
versions hitherto published are:
#A.# 'La Lavandaia,' Cento, Ferraro, Canti popolari di Ferrara, Cento e
Pontelagoscuro, p. 52, 16 verses, Romania, XI, 397, amended. #B.# 'Il
Cavaliere della bella Spada,' Pontelagoscuro, Ferraro, p. 107,
previously in Rivista di Filologia romanza, II, 205, 28 verses, Romania,
XI, 398. #C.# Piedmont, communicated by Nigra, with other versions, to
Romania, XI, 394, No 4, 48 verses. #D.# Romania, XI, 393 f, No 3, 34
verses. #E.# _Ib._ p. 395, No 6, 42 verses. #F.# _Ib._ p. 392 f, No 2,
46 verses. #G.# 'Conte Anzolin,' Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, p. 61,
57 verses. #H.# Romania, XI, 396, No 7, 38 verses. #I.# _Ib._ p. 394 f,
No 5, 26 verses. #J.# 'Il re Carlino,' Ferraro, Canti popolari
monferrini, p. 34, 42 verses. #K.# Romania, XI, 392, No 1, 20 verses.
#L.# 'Il Conte Angiolino,' Rovigno, Ive, Canti popolari istriani, p.
344, 34 verses. #M.# 'Il Conte Cagnolino,' Pontelagoscuro, Ferraro, as
above, p. 84, Rivista di Filologia romanza, II, 196, 36 verses. All
these are from recent tradition.
The name Rinaldo, Rinald, is found only in _I_, #C#, and the latter has
also Lüis. Lüis is the name in #E#; Carlino, Carlin, in #J#, #H#;
Angiolino, Anzolin, #L#, #G#; Cagnolino, #M#. The rank is king in #C#,
#E#, #H-K#; prince, #D#; count, #G#, #L#, #M#.
#A# and #B#, corrupted fragments though they be, retain clear traces of
the ancient form of the story, and of the English variety of that form.
Under the bridge of the Rella [Diamantina] a woman is washing clothes,
gh' è 'na lavandera. A knight passes, #B#, and apparently accosts the
laundress. She moves into the water, and the knight after her; the
knight embraces her, #A#. Dowy rade he hame, el va a cà tüto mojà, #A#.
In #B# (passing over some verses which have intruded) he has many
knife-stabs, and his horse many also.[362] He asks his mother to put him
to bed and his horse into the stable, and gives directions about his
funeral.
All of the story which precedes the hero's return home is either
omitted, #D#, #F#, #J#, #K#, #L#, or abridged to a single stanza: ven da
la cassa lo re Rinald, ven da la cassa, l'è tüt ferì, #C#; ven da la
guerra re Rinaldo, ven da la guerra, l'è tüt ferì, #I#, #E#, #H#; save
that #G#, which like #C# makes him to have been hunting (and to have
been bitten by a mad dog), adds that, while he was hunting, his wife had
given birth to a boy. #M# has an entirely false beginning: Count
Cagnolino was disposed to marry, but wished to be secure about his
wife's previous life. He had a marble statue in his garden which moved
its eyes when any girl that had gone astray presented herself before it.
The daughter of Captain Tartaglia having been declined, for reason, and
another young woman espoused, Tartaglia killed the count while they were
hunting.
The wounded man, already feeling the approach of death, #F#, #G#, #L#,
asks that his bed may be made; he shall die before the morrow, #D#, #F#,
#J#; let not his wife know, #F#, #G#. The wife asks why the
men-servants, coachmen, are weeping, and is told that they have drowned
[lost] some of the horses, #C-J#, #M# [have burned the king's carriage,
#K#]. We will get others when the king comes, she answers, #C#, #D#, #H#
[when I get up, #F#, as in Breton #A#]. Why are the maids weeping? The
maids have lost sheets or towels in washing, #F#, #I#, #K#; have
scorched the shirts in ironing, #C#, #D#, #H#. When the king comes, he
will buy or bring better, #C#, #D#, #H# [when I get up, #F#, as in
Breton #A#]. Why are the priests chanting? For a great feast to-morrow,
#F#. Why are the carpenters at work? They are making a cradle for your
boy, #C-E#, #H-K#. Why do the bells ring? A great lord is dead; in honor
of somebody or something; #C#, #E-L#. Why does not Anzolin come to see
me? He has gone a-hunting, #G#, #L#. What dress shall I put on to go to
church? [When I get up I shall put on red, #F#, #I#.] You in black and I
in gray, as in our country is the way, #C-F#, #H#, #I# [#H# moda a
_Paris_, by corruption of dël pais]; I white, you gray, #J#; you will
look well in black, #M#; put on red, or put on white, or put on black
for custom's sake, #G#.
The children in the street say, That is the wife of the lord who was
buried, or the people look at the lady in a marked way, #C#, #J#, #G#,
#M#; and why is this? For the last time the mother-in-law puts off the
question. At the church, under the family bench, there is a grave new
made, and now it has to be said that the husband is buried there, #C-K#,
#M#.
A conclusion is wanting in half of the ballads, and what there is is
corrupted in others. The widow commends her boy to her husband's mother,
#G#, #M#, and says she will die with her dear one, #D#, #E#, #J#, #M#.
In #C#, as in French #V#, she wishes to speak to her husband. If the
dead ever spake to the quick, she would speak once to her dear Lüis; if
the quick ever spake to the dead, she would speak once to her dear
husband. In #G# she bids the grave unlock, that she may come into the
arms of her beloved, and then bids it close, that in his arms she may
stay: cf. French #Y#, #Q#, #X#, #R#, #AA#.
The story of the Italian ballad, under the title of 'Il Conte
Angiolino,' was given in epitome by Luigi Carrer, in his Prose e Poesie,
Venice, 1838, IV, 81 f, before any copy had been published (omitted in
later editions). According to Carrer's version, the lady, hearing bells,
and seeing from her windows the church lighted up as for some office,
extracts the fact from her mother-in-law on the spot, and then, going to
the church and seeing her husband's tomb, prays that it would open and
receive her.
A fragment of an Italian ballad given by Nigra, Romania, XI, 396, No 8,
describes three card players, quarrelling over their game, as passing
from words to knives, and from knives to pistols, and one of the party,
the king of Spain, as being wounded in the fray. He rides home with a
depressed air, and asks his mother to make his bed, for he shall be dead
at midnight and his horse at dawn. There is a confusion of two stories
here, as will be seen from Spanish ballads which are to be spoken of.
Both stories are mixed with the original adventure of the mermaid in 'Il
Cavaliere della bella spada,' already referred to as #B#. In this last
the knight has a hundred and fifty stabs, and his horse ninety.[363]
Nigra has added to the valuable and beautiful ballads furnished to
Romania, XI, a tale (p. 398) from the province of Turin, which preserves
the earlier portion of the Breton story. A hunter comes upon a beautiful
woman under a rock. She requires him to marry her, and is told by the
hunter that he is already married. The beautiful woman, who is of course
a fairy, presents the hunter with a box for his wife, which he is not to
open. This box contains an explosive girdle, intended to be her death;
and the hunter's curiosity impelling him to examine the gift, he is so
much injured by a detonation which follows that he can just drag himself
home to die.
#Spanish.# This ballad is very common in Catalonia, and has been found
in Asturias. Since it is also known in Portugal, we may presume that it
might be recovered in other parts of the peninsula. #A.# 'La bona
viuda,' Briz, Cansons de la Terra, III, 155, 32 verses. #B.# 'La Viuda,'
33 verses, Milá y Fontanals, Romancerillo Catalan, 2d ed., p. 155, No
204. #C-I#. _Ib._ p. 156 f. #J.# _Ib._ p. 157 f, No 204, 36 verses. #K.#
'Romance de Doña Ana,' Asturias, the argument only, Amador de los Rios,
Historia Critica de la Literatura Española, VII, 446, being No 30 of
that author's unpublished collection.
The name of the husband is Don Joan de Sevilla, #D#, Don Joan, #F#, Don
Olalbo, #I#, Don Francisco, #J#, Don Pedro, #K#. His wife, a princess,
#A#, #G#, has given birth to a child, or is on the eve of so doing. The
gentleman is away from home, or is about to leave home on a pilgrimage
of a year and a day, #A#, #G#; has gone to war, #D#; to a hunt, #I#,
#K#. He dies just as he returns home or is leaving home, or away from
home, in other versions, but in #K# comes back in a dying condition, and
begs that his state may be concealed from his wife. The lady, hearing a
commotion in the house, and asking the cause, is told that it is the
noisy mirth of the servants, #A-D#. There is music, chanting, tolling of
bells; and this is said to be for a great person who has died, #B#, #D#,
#A#. In #B#, #D#, the wife asks, Can it be for my husband? In #J# the
mother-in-law explains her own sorrowful demeanor as occasioned by the
death of an uncle, and we are informed that the burial was without
bells, in order that the new mother might not hear. In #J# only do we
have the question, Where is my husband? He has been summoned to court,
says the mother-in-law, where, as a favorite, he will stay a year and
ten days. When should the young mother go to mass? Peasants go after a
fortnight, tradesfolk after forty days, etc.; she, as a great lady, will
wait a year and a day, #A#, #D#, #I#, a year, #B#, a year and ten days,
#J#. What dress should she wear, silk, gold tissue, silver? etc. Black
would become her best, #A#, #J#, #K#. [Doña Ana, in #K#, like the lady
in Italian #G#, resists the suggestion of mourning, as proper only for a
widow, and appears in a costume de Pascua florida: in some other copies
also she seems to wear a gay dress.] The people, the children, point to
her, and say, There is the widow, and her mother-in-law parries the
inquiry why she is the object of remark; but the truth is avowed when
they see a grave digging, and the wife asks for whom it is, #A#. In #J#
the lady sees a monument in the church, hung with black, reads her
husband's name, and swoons. #B#, #C# make the mother's explanation
follow upon the children's talk. In #K# the announcement is made first
by a shepherd, then confirmed by gaping spectators and by a rejected
lover. The widow commends her child to its grandmother, and says she
will go to her husband in heaven, #A-D#; dies on the spot, #K#; Don
Francisco dies in March, Doña Ana in May, #J#.
'Don Joan y Don Ramon' is a ballad in which a young man returns to his
mother mortally wounded, and therefore would be likely to blend in the
memory of reciters with any other ballad in which the same incident
occurred. A version from the Balearic Islands may be put first, which
has not yet taken up any characteristic part of the story of Renaud:
Recuerdos y Bellezas de España, Mallorca, p. 336, 1842==Milá, 1853, p.
114, No 15, Briz, III, 172; Die Balearen in Wort und Bild geschildert,
by the Archduke Ludwig Salvator, Leipzig, 1871, II, 556.[364]
Don Joan and Don Ramon are returning from the chase. Don Ramon falls
from his horse; Don Joan rides off. Don Ramon's mother sees her son
coming through a field, gathering plants to heal his wounds. "What is
the matter?" she asks; "you are pale." "I have been bled, and they made
a mistake." "Ill luck to the barber!" "Curse him not; it is the last
time. Between me and my horse we have nine and twenty lance thrusts; the
horse has nine and I the rest. The horse will die to-night and I in the
morning. Bury him in the best place in the stable, and me in St Eulalia;
lay a sword crosswise over my grave, and if it is asked who killed me,
let the answer be, Don Joan de la cassada."
There are numerous Catalan versions, and most of them add something to
this story: Milá, 2d ed., 'El guerrero mal herido,' p. 171, No 210,
#A-F#, #A_{1}-G_{1}#, #A_{11}#; Briz, III, 171 f, two copies. These
disagree considerably as to the cause of the hero's death, and the names
are not constant. In #A_{1}# of Milá, as in the Balearic ballad, Don
Joan and Don Ramon are coming from the chase, and have a passage at
lances; Don Joan is left dead, and Don Ramon is little short of it. #A#,
#B#, of Milá, tell us that Don Pedro died on the field of battle and Don
Joan came home mortally wounded. #E# says that Don Joan and Don Ramon
come from the chase, but Don Joan immediately says that he comes from a
great battle. It is battle in #F_{1}#, in #E_{1}# (with Gastó
returning), and in both the Catalan copies of Briz, the hero being Don
Joan in the first of these last, and in the other nameless. The wounded
man says he has been badly bled, Milá, #A#, #B#, #A_{1}#, #C_{1}#, Briz
2; he and his horse have lance wounds fifty-nine, thirty-nine,
twenty-nine, etc., the horse nine and he the rest, Milá, #A#, #B#, #E#,
#A_{1}#, Briz 1. His mother informs him that his wife has borne a child,
"a boy like the morning star," Briz 1, and says that if he will go to
the best chamber he will find her surrounded by dames and ladies. This
gives him no pleasure; he does not care for wife, nor dames, nor ladies,
nor boys, nor morning stars: Briz 1, Milá, #A_{1}-G_{1}#. He asks to
have his bed made, Milá, #A-D#, #B_{1}#, #C_{1}#, Briz 1, 2, for he
shall die at midnight and his horse at dawn, #A-D#, #A_{1}#, Briz 2, and
gives directions for his burial and that of his horse. Let the bells
toll when he is dead, and when people ask for whom it is, the answer
will be, For Don Joan, Briz 1, Gastó, Milá, #E_{1}#, who was killed in
battle. Let his arms be put over the place where his horse is buried,
and when people ask whose arms they are his mother will say, My son's,
who died in battle, Milá #A#, #B_{1}#. Let a drawn sword be laid across
his grave, and let those that ask who killed him be told, Don Joan, at
the chase, Milá, #A_{1}#.[365]
We have, probably, to do with two different ballads here, versions #A-F#
of Milá's 'Guerrero mal herido,' and Briz's second, belonging with 'Don
Joan y Don Ramon,' while #A_{1}-G_{1}# of Milá, and Briz's first,
represent a ballad of the Renaud class. It is, however, possible that
the first series may be imperfect copies of the second.
'Don Joan y Don Ramon' has agreements with Italian #B#, #A#: in #B#,
particularly, we note the hundred and fifty stabs of the knight and the
ninety of his horse.
#Portuguese.# A good Portuguese version, 'D. Pedro e D. Leonarda,' in
fifty short verses, unfortunately lacking the conclusion, has been
lately communicated to Romania (XI, 585) by Leite de Vasconcellos. Dom
Pedro went hunting, to be gone a year and a day, but was compelled to
return home owing to a malady which seized him. His mother greets him
with the information that his wife has given birth to a son. "Comfort
and cheer her," he says, "and for me make a bed, which I shall never
rise from." The wife asks, Where is my husband, that he does not come to
see me? "He has gone a-hunting for a year and a day," replies the
mother. What is this commotion in the house? "Only visitors." But the
bells are tolling! Could it be for my husband? "No, no; it is for a
feast-day." When do women go to mass after child-birth? "Some in three
weeks and some in two, but a lady of your rank after a year and a day."
And what color do they wear? "Some light blue and some a thousand
wonders, but you, as a lady of rank, will go in mourning." The ballad
stops abruptly with a half-pettish, half-humorous imprecation from the
daughter-in-law against the mother for keeping her shut up so long.
There is a Slavic ballad, which, like the versions that are so popular
with the Romance nations, abridges the first part of the story, and
makes the interest turn upon the gradual discovery of the hero's death,
but in other respects agrees with northern tradition.
#Bohemian.# #A a.# Erben, p. 473, No 9, Heřman a Dornička==Waldau,
Böhmische Granaten, I, 73, No 100; #b.# Čelakowsky, I, 26==Haupt u.
Schmaler, I, 327. #B.# Erben, p. 475. #C.# Moravian, Sušil, p. 82, No
89 a, 'Nešt'astná svatba,' 'The Doleful Wedding.' #D.# Sušil, p.
83, No 89 b. #E.# Slovak, Čelakowsky, I, 80.
#Wendish.# #A.# Haupt und Schmaler, I, 31, No 3, 'Zrudny kwas,' 'The
Doleful Wedding.' #B.# II, 131, No 182, 'Plakajuen ńeẃesta,' 'The
Weeping Bride' (the last eight stanzas, the ten before being in no
connection).
The hero on his wedding day is making ready his horse to fetch the
bride; for he is, as in the Scandinavian ballads, not yet a married man.
His mother, Bohemian #A#, ascertaining his intention, begs him not to go
himself with the bridal escort. Obviously she has a premonition of
misfortune. Herman will never invite guests, and not go for them. The
mother, in an access of passion, exclaims, If you go, may you break your
neck, and never come back! Here we are reminded of the Färöe ballad.
Bohemian #C#, #D# make the forebodings to rise in Herman's mind, not in
his mother's. The mother opposes the match in Bohemian #E#, and the
sister wishes that he may break his neck. Wendish #A# has nothing of
opposition or bodement before the start, but the crows go winging about
the young men who are going for the bride, and caw a horrible song, how
the bridegroom shall fall from his horse and break his neck. The train
sets off with a band of trumpets, drums, and stringed instruments, or,
Bohemian #D#, with a discharge of a hundred muskets, and when they come
to a linden in a meadow Herman's horse "breaks his foot," and the rider
his neck; Bohemian #D#, when they come to a copse in a meadow the
hundred pieces are again discharged, and Herman is mortally wounded. His
friends stand debating what they shall do. The dying man bids them keep
on: since the bride cannot be his, she shall be his youngest brother's,
Bohemian #A#, #C#; cf. Danish #L#, #O#, #R#, Norwegian #C#, #F#. The
train arrives at the bride's house; the bride comes out to greet them,
but, not seeing the bridegroom, inquires affrightedly what has become of
him. They pretend that he has remained at home to see to the tables. The
mother is reluctant to give them the bride, but finally yields. When the
train comes again to the linden in the mead, Dorothy sees blood. It is
Herman's! she cries; but they assure her that it is the blood of a deer
that Herman had killed for the feast. They reach Herman's house, where
the bride has an appalling reception, which need not be particularized.