known versions are from south of the Loire. #A.# Romania, X, 390, E.
Legrand, from Normandy; also known in Champagne. #B.# 'Les
Transformations,' V. Smith, Vielles Chansons du Velay et du Forez,
Romania, VII, 61 ff. #C.# Poésies populaires de la France, MS., III,
fol. 233, Vienne. #D.# The same, II, fol. 39, Guéret, Creuse. #E, F.#
The same volume, fol. 41, fol. 42. #G.# 'La maitresse gagnée,' the same
volume, fol. 38: "on chante cette chanson sur les confines du
département de l'Ain qui le séparent de la Savoie."[373] #H.# 'J'ai fait
une maitresse,' Champfleury, Chansons populaires des Provinces, p. 90,
Bourbonnais. #I.# 'Adiu, Margaridoto,' Bladé, Poésies pop. de la
Gascogne, II, 361. #J.# Mélusine, col. 338 f, Carcasonne. #K.# Montel et
Lambert, Chansons pop. du Languedoc, p. 544-51, and Revue des Langues
romanes, XII, 261-67, four copies. #L.# 'Les Transfourmatiens,' Arbaud,
II, 128. The Provençal ballad is introduced by Mistral into Mirèio,
Chant III, as the song of Magali. #M.# 'La Poursuite d'Amour,' Marelle,
in Archiv für das Studium der neueren Sprachen, LVI, 191. #N.# 'J'ai
fait une maitresse,' Gagnon, Chansons populaires du Canada, p. 137, and
Lovell, Recueil de Chansons canadiennes, 'Chanson de Voyageur,' p. 68.
#O.# Gagnon, p. 78.
#Catalan.# Closely resembling the French: #A.# 'La Esquerpa,' Briz,
Cansons de la Terra, I, 125. #B, C, D.# 'Las Transformaciones,' Milá,
Romancerillo Catalan, p. 393, No 513.
#Italian.# Reduced to a _rispetto_, Tigri, Canti popolari toscani, ed.
1860, p. 241, No 861.
#Roumanian.# 'Cucul si Turturica,' Alecsandri, Poesiě populare ale
Românilor, p. 7, No 3; French version, by the same, Ballades et Chants
populaires, p. 35, No 7; Schuller, Romänische Volkslieder, p. 47. The
cuckoo, or the lover under that style, asks the dove to be his mistress
till Sunday. The dove, for his sake, would not say No, but because of
his mother, who is a witch, if not let alone will change into a roll,
and hide under the ashes. Then he will turn into a shovel, and get her
out. She will turn into a reed, and hide in the pond. He will come as
shepherd to find a reed for a flute, put her to his lips, and cover her
with kisses. She will change to an image, and hide in the depths of the
church. He will come every day in the week, as deacon or chorister, to
kiss the images (a pious usage in those parts), and she will not thus
escape him. Schuller refers to another version, in Schuster's unprinted
collection, in which youth and maid carry on this contest in their
proper persons, and not under figure.
#Ladin.# Flugi, Die Volkslieder des Engadin, p. 83, No 12. "Who is the
younker that goes a-field ere dawn? Who is his love?" "A maid all too
fair, with dowry small enough." "Maid, wilt give me a rose?" "No; my
father has forbidden." "Wilt be my love?" "Rather a seed, and hide in
the earth." "Then I will be a bird, and pick thee out," etc.
#Greek.# Tommaseo, III, 61, Passow, p. 431, No 574a. A girl tells her
mother she will kill herself rather than accept the Turk: she will turn
swallow, and take to the woods. The mother replies, Turn what you will,
he will turn hunter, and take you from me. The same kernel of this
ballad of transformations in Comparetti, Saggi dei Dialetti greci dell'
Italia meridionale, p. 38, No 36, as M. Paul Meyer has remarked, Revue
Critique, II, 302.
The ballad is well known to the Slavic nations.
#Moravian.# Čelakovský, p. 75, No 6, Wenzig, Slawische Volkslieder,
p. 72, Bibliothek slavischer Poesien, p. 92. A youth threatens to carry
off a maid for his wife. She will fly to the wood as a dove. He has a
rifle that will bring her down. She will jump into the water as a fish.
He has a net that will take the fish. She will turn to a hare; he to a
dog; she cannot escape him.
#Polish.# Very common. #A a.# Wacław z Oleska, p. 417, No 287;
Konopka, p. 124. A young man says, though he should ride night and day
for it, ride his horse's eyes out, the maid must be his. She will turn
to a bird, and take to the thicket. But carpenters have axes which can
fell a wood. Then she will be a fish, and take to the water. But
fishermen have nets which will find her. Then she will become a wild
duck, and swim on the lake. Sportsmen have rifles to shoot ducks. Then
she will be a star in the sky, and give light to the people. He has a
feeling for the poor, and will bring the star down to the earth by his
prayers. "I see," she says, "it's God's ordinance; whithersoever I
betake myself, you are up with me; I will be yours after all." Nearly
the same mutations in other versions, with some variety of introduction
and arrangement. #A b.# Kolberg, Lud, VI, 129, No 257. #A c.#
"Przyjaciel ludu, 1836, rok 2, No 34;" Lipiński, p. 135; Kolberg, Lud
XII, 98, No 193. #B.# Pauli, Pieśńi ludu polskiego, I, 135. #C.#
The same, p. 133. #D.# Kolberg, Lud, XII, 99, No 194. #E.# Lud, IV, 19,
No 137. #F.# Lud, XII, 97, No 192. #G.# Lud, II, 134, No 161. #H.# Lud,
VI, 130, No 258. #I.# Woicicki, I, 141, Waldbrühl, Slawische Balalaika,
p. 433. #J. a, b.# Roger, p. 147, No 285, p. 148, No 286.
#Servian.# Karadshitch, I, 434, No 602; Talvj, II, 100; Kapper, II, 208;
Pellegrini, p. 37. Rather than be her lover's, the maid will turn into a
gold-jug in a drinking-house; he will be mine host. She will change into
a cup in a coffee-house; he will be _cafetier_. She will become a quail,
he a sportsman; a fish, he a net. Pellegrini has still another form, 'La
fanciulla assediata,' p. 93. An old man desires a maid. She will rather
turn into a lamb; he will turn into a wolf. She will become a quail; he
a hawk. She will change into a rose; he into a goat, and tear off the
rose from the tree.
There can be little doubt that these ballads are derived, or take their
hint, from popular tales, in which (1) a youth and maid, pursued by a
sorcerer, fiend, giant, ogre, are transformed by the magical powers of
one or the other into such shapes as enable them to elude, and finally
to escape, apprehension; or (2) a young fellow, who has been apprenticed
to a sorcerer, fiend, etc., and has acquired the black art by
surreptitious reading in his master's books, being pursued, as before,
assumes a variety of forms, and his master others, adapted to the
destruction of his intended victim, until the tables are turned by the
fugitive's taking on the stronger figure and despatching his adversary.
Specimens of the first kind are afforded by Gonzenbach, Sicilianische
Märchen, Nos 14, 15, 54, 55; Grimms, Nos 51, 56, 113; Schneller, No 27;
Pitrè, Fiabe, Novelle e Racconti siciliani, No 15; Imbriani, Novellaja
milanese, No 27, N. fiorentana, No 29; Maspons y Labrós, Rondallayre, I,
85, II, 30; Cosquin, Contes lorrains, in Romania, V, 354; Ralston's
Russian Folk-Tales, p. 129 f, from Afanasief V, No 23; Bechstein,
Märchenbuch, p. 75, ed. 1879, which combines both. Others in Köhler's
note to Gonzenbach, No 14, at II, 214.
Of the second kind, among very many, are Straparola, viii, 5, see
Grimms, III, 288, Louveau et Larivey, II, 152; Grimms, Nos 68, 117;
Müllenhoff, No 27, p. 466; Pröhle, Märchen für die Jugend, No 26;
Asbjørnsen og Moe, No 57; Grundtvig, Gamle danske Minder, 1854, Nos 255,
256; Hahn, Griechische Märchen, No 68; the Breton tale Koadalan, Luzel,
in Revue Celtique, I, 106/107; the Schotts, Walachische Mærchen, No
18;[374] Woicicki, Klechdy, II, 26, No 4; Karadshitch, No 6; Afanasief,
V, 95 f, No 22, VI, 189 ff, No 45 a, b, and other Russian and Little
Russian versions, VIII, 340. Köhler adds several examples of one kind or
the other in a note to Koadalan, Revue Celtique, I, 132, and Wollner
Slavic parallels in a note to Leskien und Brugman, Litanische
Volkslieder und Märchen, p. 537 f.
The usual course of events in these last is that the prentice takes
refuge in one of many pomegranate kernels, barley-corns, poppy-seeds,
millet-grains, pearls; the master becomes a cock, hen, sparrow, and
picks up all of these but one, which turns into a fox, dog, weasel,
crow, cat, hawk, vulture, that kills the bird.
The same story occurs in the Turkish Forty Viziers, Behrnauer, p. 195
ff, the last transformations being millet, cock, man, who tears off the
cock's head. Also in the introduction to Siddhi-Kür, Jülg, pp 1-3, where
there are seven masters instead of one, and the final changes are worms,
instead of seeds, seven hens, a man with a cane who kills the hens.[375]
The pomegranate and cock (found in Straparola) are among the
metamorphoses in the contest between the afrite and the princess in the
tale of the Second Calender in the Arabian Nights.
Entirely similar is the pursuit of Gwion the pigmy by the goddess
Koridgwen, cited by Villemarqué, Barzaz Breiz, p. lvi, ed. 1867, from
the Myvyrian Archaiology of Wales, I, 17. Gwion having, by an accident,
come to the knowledge of superhuman mysteries, Koridgwen wishes to take
his life. He flees, and turns successively into a hare, fish, bird; she
follows, in the form of hound, otter, hawk; finally he becomes a wheaten
grain, she a hen, and swallows the grain.
The ordinary tale has found its way into rhyme in a German broadside
ballad, Longard, Altrheinländische Mährlein und Liedlein, p. 76, No 40,
'Von einem gottlosen Zauberer und seiner unschuldigen Kindlein
wunderbarer Erlösung.' The two children of an ungodly magician, a boy
and a girl, are devoted by him to the devil. The boy had read in his
father's books while his father was away. They flee, and are pursued:
the girl becomes a pond, the boy a fish. The wicked wizard goes for a
net. The boy pronounces a spell, by which the girl is turned into a
chapel, and he into an image on the altar. The wizard, unable to get at
the image, goes for fire. The boy changes the girl into a
threshing-floor, himself into a barley-corn. The wizard becomes a hen,
and is about to swallow the grain of barley. By another spell the boy
changes himself into a fox, and then twists the hen's neck.
* * * * *
Translated by Gerhard, p. 18.
* * * * *
1
The lady stands in her bower door,
As straight as willow wand;
The blacksmith stood a little forebye,
Wi hammer in his hand.
2
'Weel may ye dress ye, lady fair,
Into your robes o red;
Before the morn at this same time,
I'll gain your maidenhead.'
3
'Awa, awa, ye coal-black smith,
Woud ye do me the wrang
To think to gain my maidenhead,
That I hae kept sae lang!'
4
Then she has hadden up her hand,
And she sware by the mold,
'I wudna be a blacksmith's wife
For the full o a chest o gold.
5
'I'd rather I were dead and gone,
And my body laid in grave,
Ere a rusty stock o coal-black smith
My maidenhead shoud have.'
6
But he has hadden up his hand,
And he sware by the mass,
'I'll cause ye be my light leman
For the hauf o that and less.'
O bide, lady, bide,
And aye he bade her bide;
The rusty smith your leman shall be,
For a' your muckle pride.
7
Then she became a turtle dow,
To fly up in the air,
And he became another dow,
And they flew pair and pair.
O bide, lady, bide, &c.
8
She turnd hersell into an eel,
To swim into yon burn,
And he became a speckled trout,
To gie the eel a turn.
O bide, lady, bide, &c.
9
Then she became a duck, a duck,
To puddle in a peel,
And he became a rose-kaimd drake,
To gie the duck a dreel.
O bide, lady, bide, &c.
10
She turnd hersell into a hare,
To rin upon yon hill,
And he became a gude grey-hound,
And boldly he did fill.
O bide, lady, bide, &c.
11
Then she became a gay grey mare,
And stood in yonder slack,
And he became a gilt saddle.
And sat upon her back.
Was she wae, he held her sae,
And still he bade her bide;
The rusty smith her leman was,
For a' her muckle pride.
12
Then she became a het girdle,
And he became a cake,
And a' the ways she turnd hersell,
The blacksmith was her make.
Was she wae, &c.
13
She turnd hersell into a ship,
To sail out ower the flood;
He ca'ed a nail intill her tail,
And syne the ship she stood.
Was she wae, &c.
14
Then she became a silken plaid,
And stretchd upon a bed,
And he became a green covering,
And gaind her maidenhead.
Was she wae, &c.
[373] There are two other versions in this great collection besides the
five cited, but either I have overlooked these, or they are in Volume
VI, not yet received.
[374] The Schotts are reminded by their story that Wade puts his son
Weland in apprenticeship to Mimir Smith, and to the dwarfs. They might
have noted that the devil, in the Wallachian tale, wishes to keep his
prentice a second year, as the dwarfs wish to do in the case of Weland.
That little trait comes, no doubt, from Weland's story; but we will not,
therefore, conclude that our smith is Weland Smith, and his adventure
with the lady founded upon that of Weland with Nidung's daughter.
[375] See Benfey, Pantschatantra, I, 410 f, who maintains the Mongol
tale to be of Indian origin, and thinks the story to have been derived
from the contests in magic between Buddhist and Brahman saints, of which
many are related in Buddhist legends.
45
KING JOHN AND THE BISHOP
#A.# 'Kinge John and Bishoppe,' Percy MS., p. 184; Hales
and Furnivall, I, 508.
#B.# 'King John and the Abbot of Canterbury,' broadside
printed for P. Brooksby.
The broadside #B# was printed, with trifling variations, or corrections,
in Pills to purge Melancholy, IV, 29 (1719), and in Old Ballads, II, 49
(1723). It is found in several of the collections: Pepys, II, 128, No
112; Roxburghe, III, 883; Ouvry, No 47; the Bagford; and it was among
Heber's ballads. Brooksby published from 1672 to 1695, and #B# was
"allowed" by Roger l'Estrange, who was licenser from 1663 to 1685:
Chappell, The Roxburghe Ballads, I, xviii, xxiii. The title of #B# is A
_new_ ballad of King John and the Abbot of Canterbury, to the tune of
'The King and the Lord Abbot.'[376] This older ballad seems not to have
come down.
There are at least two other broadsides extant upon the same subject,
both mentioned by Percy, and both inferior even to #B#, and in a far
less popular style: 'The King and the Bishop,' Pepys, I, 472, No 243,
Roxburghe, III, 170, Douce, fol. 110; and 'The Old Abbot and King
Olfrey,' Douce, II, fol. 169, Pepys, II, 127, No 111, printed in Old
Ballads, II, 55.[377] In both of these the Shepherd is the Bishop's
brother, which he is not in #B#; in #A# he is half-brother. Pepys's
Penny Merriments contain, I, 14, 'The pleasant History of King Henry the
Eighth and the Abbot of Reading.'[378] This last may, without rashness,
be assumed to be a variation of 'King John and the Abbot.'
Percy admitted 'King John and the Abbot' to his Reliques, II, 302,
introducing many lines from #A# "worth reviving," and many improvements
of his own,[379] and thus making undeniably a very good ballad out of a
very poor one.
The story of this ballad was told in Scotland, some fifty years ago, of
the Gudeman of Ballengeigh, James the V, the hero of not a few other
tales. Once on a time, falling in with the priest of Markinch (near
Falkland), and finding him a dullard, he gave the poor man four
questions to think of till they next met, with an intimation that his
benefice would be lost were they not rightly answered. The questions
were those of our ballad, preceded by Where is the middle of the earth?
The parson could make nothing of them, and was forced to resort to a
miller of the neighborhood, who was reputed a clever fellow. When called
to answer the first question, the miller put out his staff, and said,
There, as your majesty will find by measuring. The others were dealt
with as in the ballad. The king said that the miller should have the
parson's place, but the miller begged off from this in favor of the
incumbent. Small, Interesting Roman Antiquities recently discovered in
Fife, p. 289 ff.
Riddle stories in which a forfeit is to be paid by a vanquished party
have incidentally been referred to under No 1 and No 2. They are a very
extensive class. The oldest example is that of Samson's riddle, with a
stake of thirty sheets (or shirts) and thirty change of garments:
Judges, xiv, 12 ff. Another from Semitic tradition is what is related of
Solomon and Hiram of Tyre, in Josephus against Apion, i, 17, 18, and
Antiquities, viii, 5. After the manner of Amasis and the Æthiopian king
in Plutarch (see p. 13), they send one another riddles, with a heavy
fine for failure,--in this case a pecuniary one. Solomon at first poses
Hiram; then Hiram guesses Solomon's riddles, by the aid of Abdemon (or
the son of Abdemon), and in turn poses Solomon with riddles devised by
Abdemon.[380]
'Pá grönaliðheiði,' Landstad, p. 369, is a contest in riddles between
two brothers (refreshingly original in some parts), introduced by three
stanzas, in which it is agreed that the defeated party shall forfeit his
share of their inheritance: and this the editor seems to take quite
seriously.
Death is the penalty attending defeat in many of these wit-contests.
Odin (Vafþrúðnismál), jealous of the giant Vafþrúðnir's wisdom, wishes
to put it to test. He enters the giant's hall, assuming the name of
Gagnráðr, and announces the object of his visit. The giant tells him he
shall never go out again unless he prove the wiser, asks a few questions
to see whether he be worth contending with, and, finding him so,
proposes a decisive trial, with their heads for the stake. Odin now
propounds, first, twelve questions, mostly in cosmogony, and then five
relating to the future of the universe; and all these the giant is
perfectly competent to answer. The very unfair question is then put,
What did Odin say in his son's ear ere Balder mounted the funeral pile?
Upon this Vafþrûðnir owns himself vanquished, and we may be sure he was
not spared by his antagonist.
The Hervarar saga contains a story which, in its outlines, approximates
to that of our ballad until we come to the conclusion, where there is no
likeness. King Heiðrekr, after a long career of blood, gave up war and
took to law-making. He chose his twelve wisest men for judges, and
swore, with one hand on the head and the other on the bristles of a huge
hog which he had reared, that no man should do such things that he
should not get justice from these twelve, while any one who preferred
might clear himself by giving the king riddles which he could not guess.
There was a man named Gestr, and surnamed the Blind, a very bad and
troublesome fellow, who had withheld from Heiðrekr tribute that was due.
The king sent him word to come to him and submit to the judgment of the
twelve: if he did not, the case would be tried with arms. Neither of
these courses pleased Gestr, who was conscious of being very guilty: he
took the resolution of making offerings to Odin for help. One night
there was a knock. Gestr went to the door, and saw a man, who announced
his name as Gestr. After mutual inquiries about the news, the stranger
asked whether Gestr the Blind was not in trouble about something. Gestr
the Blind explained his plight fully, and the stranger said, "I will go
to the king and try what I can effect: we will exchange looks and
clothes." The stranger, in the guise of Gestr, entered the king's hall,
and said, Sire, I am come to make my peace. "Will you abide by the
judgment of my men of law?" asked the king. "Are there not other ways?"
inquired Gestr. "Yes: you shall give me riddles which I cannot guess,
and so purchase your peace." Gestr assented, with feigned hesitation;
chairs were brought, and everybody looked to hear something fine. Gestr
gave, and Heiðrekr promptly answered, some thirty riddles.[381] Then
said Gestr: Tell thou me this only, since thou thinkest to be wiser than
all kings: What said Odin in Balder's ear before he was borne to the
pile? "Shame and cowardice," exclaimed Heiðrekr, "and all manner of
poltroonery, jugglery, goblinry! no one knows those words of thine save
thou thyself, evil and wretched wight!" So saying, Heiðrekr drew
Tyrfing, that never was bared but somebody must fall, to cut down Gestr.
The disguised Odin changed to a hawk, and made for the window, but did
not escape before Heiðrekr's sword had docked the bird's tail. For
breaking his own truce Odin said Heiðrekr should die by the hand of a
slave, which came to pass. Fornaldar Sögur, Rafn, I, 462 ff.
The same story has come down in a Färöe ballad, 'Gátu ríma,'
Hammershaimb, Færöiske Kvæder, No 4, p. 26 (and previously published in
the Antiquarisk Tidsskrift, 1849-51, pp 75-78), translated by Dr Prior,
I, 336 ff. Gest promises Odin twelve gold marks to take his place. The
riddles are announced as thirteen in number, but the ballad is slightly
defective, and among others the last question, What were Odin's words to
Balder? is lost. Odin flies off in the shape of a falcon; Hejdrek and
all his men are burned up.
A tale presenting the essential traits of our ballad is cited in Vincent
of Beauvais's Speculum Morale, i, 4, 10, at the end. We read, he says,
of a king, who, seeking a handle for wrenching money out of a wealthy
and wise man, put him three questions, apparently insoluble, intending
to make him pay a large sum for not answering them: 1, Where is the
middle point of the earth? 2, How much water is there in the sea? 3, How
great is the mercy of God? On the appointed day, having been brought
from prison into the presence to ransom himself if he could, the
respondent, by the _advice of a certain philosopher_, proceeded thus. He
planted his staff where he stood, and said, Here is the centre; disprove
it if you can. If you wish me to measure the sea, stop the rivers, so
that nothing may flow in till I have done; then I will give you the
contents. To answer your third question, I must borrow your robes and
your throne. Then mounting the throne, clothed with the royal insignia,
"Behold," said he, "the height of the mercy of God: but now I was a
slave, now I am a king; but now poor, and now rich; but now in prison
and in chains, and now at liberty," etc.
Of the same stamp is a story in the English Gesta Romanorum, Madden, p.
55, No 19. A knight was accused to the emperor by his enemies, but not
so as to give a plausible ground for steps against him. The emperor
could hit upon no way but to put him questions, on pain of life and
death. The questions were seven; the third and the sixth will suffice:
How many gallons of salt water been in the sea? Answer: Let all the
outpassings of fresh water be stopped, and I shall tell thee. How many
days' journey beth in the circle of the world? Answer: Only the space of
one day.
Much nearer to the ballad, and earlier than either of the preceding, is
the Stricker's tale of Âmîs and the Bishop, in the Pfaffe Âmîs, dated at
about 1236. Âmîs, a learned and bountiful priest in England, excited the
envy of his bishop, who sent for him, told him that he lived in better
style than his superior, and demanded a subvention. The priest flatly
refused to give the bishop anything but a good dinner. "Then you shall
lose your church," said the bishop in wrath. But the priest, strong in a
good conscience, felt small concern about that: he said the bishop might
test his fitness with any examination he pleased. That I will do, said
the bishop, and gave him five questions. "How much is there in the sea?"
"One tun," answered Âmîs; "and if you think I am not right, stop all the
rivers that flow in, and I will measure it and convince you." "Let the
rivers run," said the bishop. "How many days from Adam to our time?"
"Seven," said the parson; "for as soon as seven are gone, they begin
again." The bishop, fast losing his temper, next demanded "What is the
exact middle of the earth? Tell me, or lose your church." "Why, my
church stands on it," replied Âmîs. "Let your men measure, and take the
church if it prove not so." The bishop declined the task, and asked once
more: How far is it from earth to sky? and then: What is the width of
the sky? to which Âmîs replied after the same fashion.
In this tale of the Stricker the parson answers for himself, and not by
deputy, and none of the questions are those of our ballad. But in a tale
of Franco Sacchetti,[382] given in two forms, Novella iv^a, we have both
the abbot and his humble representative, and an agreement as to one of
the questions. Bernabò Visconti († 1385) was offended with a rich
abbot, who had neglected some dogs that had been entrusted to his care,
and was minded to make the abbot pay him a fine; but so far yielded to
the abbot's protest as to promise to release him from all penalties if
he could answer four questions: How far is it from here to heaven? How
much water is there in the sea? What is going on in hell? What is the
value of my person? A day was given to get up the answers. The abbot
went home, in the depths of melancholy, and met on the way one of his
millers, who inquired what was the matter, and, after receiving an
explanation, offered to take the abbot's place, disguising himself as
well as he could. The answers to the two first questions are not the
usual ones: huge numbers are given, and the seigneur is told to measure
for himself, if not willing to accept them. The answer to the fourth is
twenty-nine deniers; for our Lord was sold for thirty, and you must be
worth one less than he. Messer Bernabò said the miller should be abbot,
and the abbot miller, from that time forth. Sacchetti says that others
tell the story of a pope and an abbot, adding one question. The gardener
of the monastery presents the abbot, makes the usual answer to the
second question as to the water in the sea, and prizes Christ's vicar at
twenty-eight deniers.