beautiful repetitions of the story in the ballads of other nations, and
it has secondary affinities with the extensive cycle of 'Hind Horn,' the
parts of the principal actors in the one being inverted in the other.
The hero's name is mostly Beichan, with slight modifications like Bekie,
#C#, Bicham, #A#, Brechin, #B#; in #L#, Bateman; in #M#, Bondwell. The
heroine is Susan Pye in ten of the fourteen versions; Isbel in #C#;
Essels, evidently a variety of Isbel, in #M#, which has peculiar
relations with #C#; Sophia in #K#, #L#.
Beichan is London born in #A#, #D#, [#E#], #H#, #I#, #N#, English born
in #B#; London city is his own, #A# 6, #B# 7, #F# 7, or he has a hall
there, #I# 7, #N# 27 f.; half Northumberland belongs to him, #L#; he is
lord of the towers of Line, #D# 9, #C# 5, #M# 5, which are in London,
#D# 15 f, but are transferred by reciters to the water of Tay, #M# 29,
and to Glasgow, or the vicinity, #H# 20. #H#, though it starts with
calling him London born, speaks of him thereafter as a Scottish lord,
12, 18, 31.[406]
Beichan has an Englishman's desire strange countries for to see, #A#,
#D#, [#E#], #I#, #L#, #N#. In #C#, #M# he goes abroad, Quentin Durward
fashion, not to gratify his taste for travel, but to serve for meat and
fee. #F# makes him go to the Holy Land, without specifying his motive,
but we may fairly suppose it religious. #C# sends him no further than
France, and #M# to an unnamed foreign land. He becomes the slave of a
Moor or Turk, #A#, #B#, #D#, #H#, #I#, #L#, #N#, or a "Prudent," #F#,
who treats him cruelly. They bore his shoulders and put in a "tree," and
make him draw carts, like horse or ox, #A#, #B#, #D#, [#E#], #H#; draw
plough and harrow, #F#, plough and cart, #N#; or tread the wine-press,
#I#. This is because he is a staunch Christian, and would never bend a
knee to Mahound or Termagant, #E#, or onie of their stocks, #H#, or
gods, #I#. They cast him into a dungeon, where he can neither hear nor
see, and he is nigh perishing with hunger. This, also, is done in #H# 5,
on account of his perseverance in Christianity; but in #C#, #M# he is
imprisoned for falling in love with the king's daughter, or other lovely
may.
From his prison Beichan makes his moan (not to a stock or a stone, but
to the Queen of Heaven, #D# 4). His hounds go masterless, his hawks flee
from tree to tree, his younger brother will heir his lands, and he shall
never see home again, #E#, #H#. If a lady [earl] would borrow him, he
would run at her stirrup; if a widow [auld wife] would borrow him, he
would become her son; and if a maid would borrow him, he would wed her
with a ring, #C#, #D#, #M#, #B#.[407] The only daughter of the Moor,
Turk, or king (of a 'Savoyen,' #B# 5, perhaps a corruption of Saracen),
already interested in the captive, or immediately becoming so upon
hearing Beichan's song, asks him if he has lands and means at home to
maintain a lady that should set him free, and is told that he has ample
estates, all of which he would bestow on such a lady, #A#, #B#, #E#,
#F#, #H#, #L#, #N#. She steals the keys and delivers the prisoner, #C#,
#D#, #E#, #I#, #J#, #L#, #M#, #N#; refreshes him with bread and wine
[wine], #A#, #D#, #E#, #F#, #J# 4, #K# 3, #B#, #H#, #L#; supplies him
with money, #C# 9, #H# 15, #M# 12, #N# 14, and with a ship, #F# 9, #H#
18, #L# 9; to which #C#, #M# add a horse and hounds [and hawks, #M#].
She bids him mind on the lady's love that freed him out of pine, #A# 8,
#D# 12, [#E# 13], #M# 14, #N# 15, and in #E# 16 breaks a ring from her
finger, and gives half of it to Beichan to assist his memory. There is a
solemn vow, or at least a clear understanding, that they are to marry
within seven years, #A# 9, #B# 9, #E# 12 f., #H# 17, 19, #L# 8, #N# 11
[three years, #C# 11].
When seven years are at an end, or even before, Susan Pye feels a
longing, or a misgiving, which impels her to go in search of the object
of her affections, and she sets her foot on good shipboard, and turns
her back on her own country, #A# 10, #B# 10, #D# 15, #L# 10, #N#
23.[408] #C# and #M# preserve here a highly important feature which is
wanting in the other versions. Isbel, or Essels, is roused from her
sleep by the Billy Blin, #C# 14, by a woman in green, a fairy, #M# 15,
who makes known to her that that very day, or the morn, is Bekie's
[Bondwell's] wedding day. She is directed to attire herself and her
maids very splendidly, and go to the strand; a vessel will come sailing
to her, and they are to go on board. The Billy Blin will row her over
the sea, #C# 19; she will stroke the ship with a wand, and take God to
be her pilot, #M# 19. Thus, by miraculous intervention, she arrives at
the nick of time.
Beichan's fickleness is not accounted for in most of the versions. He
soon forgot his deliverer and courted another, he was young, and thought
not upon Susan Pye, say #H#, #N#. #C#, on the contrary, tells us that
Beichan had not been a twelvemonth in his own country, when he was
forced to marry a duke's daughter or lose all his land. #E# and #K#
intimate that he acts under constraint; the wedding has lasted three and
thirty days, and he will not bed with his bride for love of one beyond
the sea, #E# 21, #K# 1.[409]
On landing, Susan Pye falls in with a shepherd feeding his flock, #E#,
#K# [a boy watering his steeds, #M#]. She asks, Whose are these sheep,
these kye, these castles? and is told they are Lord Beichan's, #G#. She
asks the news, and is informed that there is a wedding in yonder hall
that has lasted thirty days and three, #E#, #K#, or that there is to be
a wedding on the morn, #M#; it seems to be a matter generally known,
#N#. In other versions she comes directly to Young Beichan's hall, and
is first informed by the porter, #A#, #B#, #F#, #H#, #L#, or the fact is
confirmed by the porter, #E#, #M#, #N#; she hears the music within, and
divines, #C#. She bribes the porter to bid the bridegroom come and
speak to her, #A#, #B#, #C#, #D#, #J#, #N#; send her down bread and
wine, and not forget the lady who brought him out of prison, #B#, #F#,
#H#, #J#, #K#, #L#. In #E# 26 she sends up her half ring to the
bridegroom [a ring in #N# 40, but not till Beichan has declined to come
down].
The porter falls on his knee and informs his master that the fairest and
richest lady that eyes ever saw is at the gate [ladies, #C#, #M#]. The
bride, or the bride's mother more commonly, reproves the porter for his
graceless speech; he might have excepted the bride, or her mother, or
both: "Gin she be braw without, we's be as braw within." But the porter
is compelled by truth to persist in his allegation; fair as they may be,
they were never to compare with yon lady, #B#, #D#, #E#, #H#, #M#.
Beichan takes the table with his foot and makes the cups and cans to
flee, #B# 18, #D# 23, #F# 28, #G# 3, #H# 47, #J# 5, #N# 42;[410] he
exclaims that it can be none but Susie Pye, #A#, #B#, #D#, #G#, #H#, #I#
[Burd Isbel, #C#], and clears the stair, fifteen steps, thirty steps, in
three bounds, #A# 19, #D# 24, #N# 43. His old love reproaches him for
his forgetfulness, #A#, #C#, #D#, #M#, #N#;[411] she asks back her faith
and troth, #B# 21. Beichan bids the forenoon bride's mother take back
her daughter: he will double her dowry, #A# 22, #D# 27, #E# 39; she came
on horseback, she shall go back in chariots, coaches, three, #B# 22, #D#
27[412] [#H# 49, in chariot free]. He marries Susie Pye, having her
baptized by the name of Lady Jean, #A#, #B#, #D#, [#E#], #F#, #I#,
#J#.[413]
This story of Beichan, or Bekie, agrees in the general outline, and also
in some details, with a well-known legend about Gilbert Beket, father of
St Thomas. The earlier and more authentic biographies lack this
particular bit of romance, but the legend nevertheless goes back to a
date not much later than a century after the death of the saint, being
found in a poetical narrative preserved in a manuscript of about
1300.[414]
We learn from this legend that Gilbert Beket, in his youth, assumed the
cross and went to the Holy Land, accompanied only by one Richard, his
servant. They "did their pilgrimage" in holy places, and at last, with
other Christians, were made captive by the Saracens and put in strong
prison. They suffered great hardship and ignominy in the service of the
Saracen prince Admiraud. But Gilbert found more grace than the rest; he
was promoted to serve the prince at meat (in his chains), and the prince
often would ask him about England and the English faith. Admiraud's only
daughter fell in love with Gilbert, and when she saw her time, in turn
asked him the like questions. Gilbert told her that he was born in
London; told her of the belief of Christians, and of the endless bliss
that should be their meed. The maid asked him if he was ready to die
for his Lord's love, and Gilbert declared that he would, joyfully. When
the maid saw that he was so steadfast, she stood long in thought, and
then said, I will quit all for love of thee, and become Christian, if
thou wilt marry me. Gilbert feared that this might be a wile; he replied
that he was at her disposition, but he must bethink himself. She went on
loving him, the longer the more. After this Gilbert and the rest broke
prison and made their way to the Christians. The prince's daughter,
reduced to desperation by love and grief, left her heritage and her kin,
sparing for no sorrow, peril, or contempt that might come to her, not
knowing whither to go or whether he would marry her when found, and went
in quest of Gilbert. She asked the way to England, and when she had come
there had no word but London to assist her further. She roamed through
the streets, followed by a noisy and jeering crowd of wild boys and what
not, until one day by chance she stopped by the house in which Gilbert
lived. The man Richard, hearing a tumult, came out to see what was the
matter, recognized the princess, and ran to tell his master.[415]
Gilbert bade Richard take the lady to the house of a respectable woman
near by, and presently went to see her. She swooned when she saw him.
Gilbert was nothing if not discreet: he "held him still," as if he had
nothing in mind. But there was a conference of six bishops just then at
St. Paul's, and he went and told them his story and asked advice. One of
the six prophetically saw a divine indication that the two were meant to
be married, and all finally recommended this if the lady would become
Christian. Brought before the bishops, she said, Most gladly, if he will
espouse me; else I had not left my kin. She was baptized[416] with great
ceremony, and the marriage followed.
The very day after the wedding Gilbert was seized with such an
overmastering desire to go back to the Holy Land that he wist not what
to do. But his wife was thoroughly converted, and after a struggle with
herself she consented, on condition that Beket should leave with her the
man Richard, who knew her language. Gilbert was gone three years and a
half, and when he came back Thomas was a fine boy.
That our ballad has been _affected_ by the legend of Gilbert Beket is
altogether likely. The name Bekie is very close to Beket, and several
versions, #A#, #D#, #H#, #I#, #N#, set out rather formally with the
announcement that Bekie was London born, like the Latin biographies and
the versified one of Garnier de Pont Sainte Maxence. Our ballad, also,
in some versions, has the Moor's daughter baptized, a point which of
course could not fail in the legend. More important still is it that the
hero of the English ballad goes home and forgets the woman he has left
in a foreign land, instead of going away from home and forgetting the
love he has left there. But the ballad, for all that, is not derived
from the legend. Stories and ballads of the general cast of 'Young
Beichan' are extremely frequent.[417] The legend lacks some of the main
points of these stories, and the ballad, in one version or another, has
them, as will be seen by referring to what has been said under 'Hind
Horn,' pp 194 ff. Bekie and Beket go to the East, like Henry and
Reinfrit of Brunswick, the Noble Moringer, the good Gerhard, Messer
Torello, the Sire de Créqui, Alexander of Metz, and others. Like the
larger part of these, they are made prisoners by the Saracens. He will
not bow the knee to Mahound; neither will the Sire de Créqui, though he
die for it.[418] Beichan is made to draw cart, plough, harrow, like a
beast. So Henry of Brunswick in a Swedish and a Danish ballad,[419] and
Alexander von Metz, or the Graf von Rom, in his most beautiful and
touching story.[420] Henry of Brunswick is set free by a "heathen" lady
in the Danish ballad. In one version of Beichan, #E#, the lady on
parting with her love breaks her ring and gives him one half, as Henry,
or his wife, Reinfrit, Gerhard, Créqui, and others do. At this point in
the story the woman pursues the man, and parts are inverted. Susan Pye
is warned that Beichan is to be married the next day, in #C# by a
Billy-Blin, in #M# by a woman in green, or fairy, and is conveyed to
Beichan's castle or hall with miraculous despatch, just as Henry and
others are warned, and are transported to their homes by devil, angel,
or necromancer. In #E# and #N# the old love is identified by a half ring
or ring, as in so many of the stories of the class of Henry the Lion.
Norse, Spanish, and Italian ballads preserve a story essentially the
same as that of 'Young Beichan.'
#Scandinavian.#
#Danish.# 'Stolt Ellensborg,' Grundtvig, IV, 238, No 218, nine versions,
#A-G#, from manuscripts of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, #H#,
#I#, from recent tradition. #B# is previously printed (with alterations)
in Levninger, 'Jomfrue Ellensborg,' I, 66, No 12, Danske Viser, III,
268, No 213; I, 'Stalt Ellen henter sin Fæstemand' is in Kristensen, I,
89, No 36. Of the older texts, #A#, #B#, #C# are absolutely pure and
true to tradition, #D-G# retouched or made over.
#Icelandic#, of the seventeenth century, Grundtvig, as above, p. 259,
#M#.
#Swedish#, from Cavallius and Stephens' collection, Grundtvig, p. 255,
#K#.
#Färöe#, taken down in 1827, Grundtvig, p. 256, #L#.
#Norwegian#, 'Herre Per i Riki,' Landstad, p. 596, No 76, #N#.
The variations of these twelve versions are insignificant. The names
Herr Peder den Rige and Ellensborg [Ellen] are found in nearly all. It
comes into Sir Peter's mind that he ought to go to Jerusalem to expiate
his sins, and he asks his betrothed, Ellensborg, how long she will wait
for him. She will wait eight years, and marry no other, though the king
should woo her [seven, #L#; nine, #M#, "If I do not come then, break the
engagement;" eight, and not more, #N#]. The time passes and Peter does
not come back. Ellensborg goes to the strand. Traders come steering in,
and she is asked to buy of their ware,--sendal, linen, and silk green as
leek. She cares not for these things; have they not seen her sister's
son [brother], for whom she is grieving to death? They know nothing of
her sister's son, but well they know Sir Peter the rich: he has
betrothed a lady in the Øster-king's realm;[421] a heathen woman, "and
you never came into his mind," #E# 13; he is to be married to-morrow,
#K# 6. A wee swain tells her, #M# 14, 16, that he sits in Austurríki
drinking the ale of forgetfulness, and will never come home; he shall
not drink long, says she. Ellensborg asks her brother to undertake a
voyage for her; he will go with her if she will wait till summer; rather
than wait till summer she will go alone, #A#, #D#, #G#. She asks
fraternal advice about going in search of her lover, #A#, #E#, the
advice of her uncles, #I#; asks the loan of a ship, #B#, #C#, #F#, #H#,
#N#. She is told that such a thing would be a shame; she had better take
another lover; the object is not worth the trouble; the voyage is bad
for a man and worse for a woman. Her maids give her advice that is more
to her mind, #E#, but are as prudent as the rest in the later #I#. She
attires herself like a knight, clips her maids' hair, #B#, #H#, #I#,
#L#, #M#, and puts them into men's clothes, #D#, #L#; sets herself to
steer and the maids to row, #A-G#, #L#.[422]
The voyage is less than two months, #B#, #C#, #E#; less than three
months, #I#; quite three months, #L#. It is the first day of the bridal
when she lands, #B# 22, #E# 24, #N# 14; in #B# Ellensborg learns this
from a boy who is walking on the sand. Sword at side, she enters the
hall where Peter is drinking his bridal. Peter, can in hand, rises and
says, Bless your eyes, my sister's son; welcome to this strange land. In
#B# he asks, How are my father and mother? and she tells him that his
father lies dead on his bier, his mother in sick-bed. In #L#, waiting
for no greeting, she says, Well you sit at the board with your wife! Are
all lords wont thus to keep their faith? The bride's mother, #D#, #G#,
the heathen bride, #E#, an unnamed person, probably the bride, #A#, #B#,
#F#, #N#, says, That is not your sister's son, but much more like a
woman; her hair is like spun gold, and braided up under a silk cap.
#A# tells us, and so #F#, #G#, that it was two months before Ellensborg
could speak to Peter privately. Then, on a Yule day, when he was going
to church, she said, It does not occur to you that you gave me your
troth. Sir Peter stood as if women had shorn his hair, and recollected
all as if it had been yesterday. In #B-E#, #H#, #I#, #L#, #M#, #N#, this
incident has, perhaps, dropped out. In these immediately, as in #A#,
#F#, #G#, after this interview, Sir Peter, recalled to his senses or to
his fidelity, conceives the purpose of flying with Ellensborg. Good
people, he says, knights and swains, ladies and maids, follow my bride
to bed, while I take my sister's son over the meads, through the wood,
#B-E#, #H#, #I#, #N#. In #A#, #F#, Sir Peter asks the bride how long she
will bide while he takes his nephew across the kingdom; in #G# begs the
boon that, since his sister's son is going, he may ride with him, just
accompany him to the strand and take leave of him; in #L#, #M#, hopes
she will not be angry if he convoys his nephew three days on his way.
(It is at this point in #C#, #H#, #I#, #L#, that the bride says it is no
sister's son, but a woman.) The bride remarks that there are knights and
swains enow to escort his sister's son, and that he might more fitly
stay where he is, but Sir Peter persists that he will see his nephew off
in person.
Sir Peter and Ellensborg go aboard the ship, he crying, You will see me
no more! When they are at sea Ellensborg lets out her hair, #A#, #B#,
#C#, #H#; she wishes that the abandoned bride may now feel the grief
which she herself had borne for years. The proceeding is less covert in
#I#, #L#, #M# than in the other versions.
As Ellensborg and Peter are making for the ship in #D# 30, 31 (and #G#
36, 37, borrowed from #D#), she says, Tell me, Sir Peter, why would you
deceive me so? Sir Peter answers that he never meant to deceive her; it
was the lady of Østerland that did it; she had changed his mind. A
magical change is meant. This agrees with what is said in #A# 24, 25
(also #F#, #G#), that when Ellensborg got Peter alone to herself, and
said, You do not remember that you plighted your troth to me, everything
came back to him as if it had happened yesterday. And again in the Färöe
copy, #L# 49, Ellensborg, from the prow, cries to Ingibjörg on the
strand, Farewell to thee with thy _elf-ways_, við títt elvargangi! I
have taken to myself my true love that I lent thee so long; implying
that Sir Peter had been detained by Circean arts, by a sleepy drench of
óminnis öl, or ale of forgetfulness, Icelandic #M# 14, which, in the
light of the other ballads, is to be understood literally, and not
figuratively. The feature of a man being made, by magical or other
means, to forget a first love who had done and suffered much for him,
and being suddenly restored to consciousness and his original
predilection, is of the commonest occurrence in traditional tales.[423]
Our English ballad affords no other positive trace of external
interference with the hero's will than the far-fetched allegation in #C#
that the choice before him was to accept a duke's daughter or forfeit
his lands. The explanation of his inconstancy in #H#, #N#, that young
men ever were fickle found, is vulgar, and also insufficient, for
Beichan returns to his old love _per saltum_, like one from whose eyes
scales have fallen and from whose back a weight has been taken, not
tamely, like a facile youth that has swerved. #E# and #K#, as already
said, distinctly recognize that Beichan was not acting with free mind,
and, for myself, I have little doubt that, if we could go back far
enough, we should find that he had all along been faithful at heart.
#Spanish.# #A.# 'El Conde Sol,' Duran, Romancero, I, 180, No 327, from
tradition in Andalusia, by the editor; Wolf and Hofmann, Primavera, II,
48, No 135. In this most beautiful romance the County Sol, named general
in great wars between Spain and Portugal, and leaving a young wife
dissolved in tears, tells her that she is free to marry if he does not
come back in six years. Six pass, and eight, and more than ten, yet the
county does not return, nor does there come news of him. His wife
implores and obtains leave of her father to go in search of her husband.
She traverses France and Italy, land and sea, and is on the point of
giving up hope, when one day she sees a herdsman pasturing cows. Whose
are these cows? she asks. The County Sol's, is the answer. And whose
these wheat-fields, these ewes, these gardens, and that palace? whose
the horses I hear neigh? The County Sol's, is the answer in each
case.[424] And who that lady that a man folds in his arms? The lady is
betrothed to him and the county is to marry her. The countess changes
her silken robe for the herdsman's sackcloth, and goes to ask an alms at
the county's gate. Beyond all hope, the county comes out himself to
bring it. "Whence comest thou, pilgrim?" he asks. She was born in Spain.
"How didst thou make thy way hither?" She came to seek her husband,
footing the thorns by land, risking the perils of the sea; and when she
found him he was about to marry, he had forgotten his faithful wife.
"Pilgrim, thou art surely the devil, come to try me." "No devil," she
said, "but thy wife indeed, and therefore come to seek thee." Upon this,
without a moment's tarrying, the county ordered his horse, took up his
wife, and made his best speed to his native castle. The bride he would
have taken remained unmarried, for those that put on others' robes are
sure to be stripped naked.
#B.# 'Gerineldo,' taken down in Asturias by Amador de los Rios, Jahrbuch
für romanische u. englische Literatur, III, 290, 1861, and the same year
(Nigra) in Revista Iberica, I, 51; a version far inferior to #A#, and
differing in no important respect as to the story.
#C.# 'La boda interrumpida,' Milá, Romancerillo Catalan, p. 221, No 244,
seven copies, A-G, none good. A, which is about one third Castilian,
relates that war is declared between France and Portugal, and the son of
Conde Burgos made general. The countess his wife does nothing but weep.
The husband tells her to marry again if he does not come back in seven
years. More than seven years are gone, and the lady's father asks why
she does not marry. "How can I," she replies, "if the count is living?
Give me your blessing, and let me go in search of him." She goes a
hundred leagues on foot, in the disguise of a pilgrim. Arrived at a
palace she sees pages pass, and asks them for whom a horse is intended.
It is for Count Burgos's son, who marries that night. She asks to be
directed to the young count, is told that she will find him in the hall,
enters, and begs an alms, as coming from Italy and without a penny. The
young man says, If you come from Italy, what is the news? Is Conde
Bueso's wife living? The pilgrim desires some description of the lady.
It seems that she wore a very costly petticoat on her wedding-day. The
pilgrim takes off _her glove_ and shows her ring; she also takes off and
shows the expensive petticoat. There is great weeping in that palace,
for first wives never can be forgotten. Don Bueso and the pilgrim clap
hands and go home.