Chapter 6

Und als die Sternlein am Himmel klar,Ottilia die achte der Todten war,

was, no doubt, suggested by the last ofF, another of Zuccalmaglio's versions, and, if genuine, would belong to a ballad of the third class.

Dhas the name Odilia for the maid, but the knight, or trooper, has become expressly a robber (ritter, reiter, räuber). They ride to a green heath, where there is a cool spring. Odilia asks for and gets a draught of water, and is told that at the linden-tree there will be eating and drinking for them. And when they come to the linden, there hang six, seven maids! All proceeds as before. The talking head is lost. Odilia meets the robber's mother, and makes the usual reply.[37]

EresemblesCclosely. Odilia becomes Schondilg (Schön Odilie), Räuber returns to Ritter, or Reiter, and the servant-maid bribe of seven pounds of gold rises to ten tons.[38]Schondilg's toilet, preparatory to going off (6-8), is described with a minuteness that we find only in the Dutch ballad (12-16). After this, there is no important variation. She meets the trooper's three brothers, and makes the same replies to them as to the mother inD.

F.The personages here are Linnich (i.e., Nellie) and a knight from England. The first twelve stanzas do not diverge fromC,D,E. In stanza 13 we find the knight directing the lady to strip off her silk gown and gold necklace, as in the EnglishC,D,E; but certainly this inversion of the procedure which obtains in GermanC,D,Eis an accident arising from confused recollection. The 14th and last stanza similarly misunderstands the maid's feigned anxiety about the knight's fine coat, and brings the ballad to a false close, resembling the termination of those of the third class, still more those of certain mixed forms to be spoken of presently.

(II.) The second series,G-S, has three or four traits that are not found in the foregoing ballads.G, which, as well asH, was in print more than two hundred years before any other copy is known to have been taken down, begins, like the Dutch Halewijn, with a knight (Ulinger) singing so sweetly that a maid (Fridburg) is filled with desire to go off with him. He promises to teach her his art. This magical song is wanting only inR, of class II, and the promise to teach it only inQ,R. She attires herself splendidly; he swings her on to his horse behind him, and they ride to a wood. When they came to the wood there was no one there but a white dove on a hazel-bush, that sang, Listen, Fridburg: Ulingerhas hanged eleven[39]maids; the twelfth is in his clutches. Fridburg asked what the dove was saying. Ulinger replied, It takes me for another; it lies in its red bill; and rode on till it suited him to alight. He spread his cloak on the grass, and asked her to sit down:

Er sprach sie solt ihm lausen,Sein gelbes Haar zerzausen.[40]

Looking up into her eyes, he saw tears, and asked why she was weeping. Was it for her sorry husband? Not for her sorry husband, she said. But here some stanzas, which belong to another ballad,[41]have crept in, and she is, with no reason, made to ride further on. She comes to a lofty fir, and eleven maids hanging on it. She wrings her hands and tears her hair, and implores Ulinger to let her be hanged in her clothes as she is.

'Ask me not that, Fridburg,' he said;'Ask me not that, thou good young maid;Thy scarlet mantle and kirtle blackWill well become my young sister's back.'

Then she begs to be allowed three cries.

'So much I may allow thee well,Thou art so deep within the dell;So deep within the dell we lie,No man can ever hear thy cry.'

She cries, "Help, Jesu!" "Help, Mary!" "Help, dear brother!"

'For if thou come not straight,For my life 't will be too late!'

Her brother seems to hear his sister's voice "in every sense."

He let his falcon fly,Rode off with hounds in full cry;With all the haste he couldHe sped to the dusky wood.'What dost thou here, my Ulinger?What dost thou here, my master dear?''Twisting a withe, and that is all,To make a halter for my foal.''Twisting a withe, and that is all,To make a halter for thy foal!I swear by my troth thus shall it be,Thyself shalt be the foal for me.''Then this I beg, my Fridburger,Then this I beg, my master dear,That thou wilt let me hangIn my clothes as now I stand.''Ask me not that, thou Ulinger,Ask me not that, false perjurer;Thy scarlet mantle and jerkin blackWill well become my scullion's back.'His shield before his breast he slung,Behind him his fair sister swung,And so he hied awayWhere his father's kingdom lay.

He let his falcon fly,Rode off with hounds in full cry;With all the haste he couldHe sped to the dusky wood.

'What dost thou here, my Ulinger?What dost thou here, my master dear?''Twisting a withe, and that is all,To make a halter for my foal.'

'Twisting a withe, and that is all,To make a halter for thy foal!I swear by my troth thus shall it be,Thyself shalt be the foal for me.'

'Then this I beg, my Fridburger,Then this I beg, my master dear,That thou wilt let me hangIn my clothes as now I stand.'

'Ask me not that, thou Ulinger,Ask me not that, false perjurer;Thy scarlet mantle and jerkin blackWill well become my scullion's back.'

His shield before his breast he slung,Behind him his fair sister swung,And so he hied awayWhere his father's kingdom lay.

H, the nearly contemporaneous Augsburg broadside, differs fromGin only one important particular. The "reuter" is Adelger, the lady unnamed. A stanza is lost between 6 and 7, which should contain the warning of the dove, and so is Adelger's version of what the bird had said. The important feature inH, not present inG, is that the halt is made near a spring, about which blood is streaming, "der war mit blut umbrunnenn." This adds a horror to this powerful scene which well suits with it. When the maid begins to weep, Adelger asks whether her tears are for her father's land, or because she dislikes him so much. It is for neither reason, but because on yon fir she sees eleven maids hanging. He confirms her fears:

'Ah, thou fair young lady fine,O palsgravine, O empress mine,Adelger 's killed his eleven before,Thou 'lt be the twelfth, of that be sure.'[42]

The last two lines seem, by their form, to be the dove's warning that has dropped out between stanzas 6 and 7. The maid's clothes inHare destined to be the perquisite of Adelger's mother, and the brother says that Adelger's are to go to his shield-bearer. The unhappy maid cries but twice, to the Virgin and to her brother. When surprised by the brother, Adelger feigns to be twisting a withe for his falcon.

Ibegins, likeG,H, with the knight's seductive song. Instead of the dove directly warning the maid, it upbraids the man: "Whither now, thou Ollegehr?[43]Eight hast thou murdered already; and now for the ninth!" The maid asks what the dove means, and is told to ride on, and not mind the dove, who takes him for another man. There are eight maids in the fir. The cries are to Jesus, Mary, and her brothers, one of whom hastens to the rescue. He is struck with the beauty of his sister's attire,—her velvet dress, her virginal crown, "which you shall wear many a year yet." So saying, he draws his sword, and whips off his "brother-in-law's" head, with this epicedium:

'Lie there, thou head, and bleed,Thou never didst good deed.'Lie there, thou head, and rot,No man shall mourn thy lot.'No one shall ever be sorry for theeBut the small birds on the greenwood tree.'[44]

'Lie there, thou head, and bleed,Thou never didst good deed.

'Lie there, thou head, and rot,No man shall mourn thy lot.

'No one shall ever be sorry for theeBut the small birds on the greenwood tree.'[44]

InJ, again, the knight comes riding through the reeds, and sings such a song that Brown Annele, lying under the casement, exclaims, "Could I but sing like him, I would give my troth and my honor!" There are, by mistake, two[45]doves in stanza 4, that warn Annele not to be beguiled, but this error is set right in the next stanza. When she asks what the dove is cooing, the answer is, "It is cooing about its red foot; it went barefoot all winter." We have here again, as inH, the spring in the wood, "mit Blute umrunnen," and the lady asks again the meaning of the bloody spring. The knight replies, in a stanza which seems both corrupted and out of place, "This is where the eleven pure virgins perished." Then follow the same incidents as inG-I. He says she must hang with the eleven in the fir, and be queen over all. Her cries are for her father, for Our Lady, and for her brother, who is a hunter in the forest. The hunter makes all haste to his sister, twists a withe, and hangs the knight without a word between them, then takes his sister by the hand and conducts her home, with the advice never more to trust a knight: for all which she returns her devout thanks.[46]

KandLare of the same length and the same tenor asJ. There are no names inL; inKboth Annele and Ulrich, but the latter is very likely to have been inserted by the editor.K,Lhave only one dove, and in neither does the lady ask the meaning of the dove's song. The knight simply says, "Be still; thou liest in thy throat!" Both have the bloody spring, but out of place, for it is very improperly spoken of by the knight as the spot he is making for:

'Wir wollen ein wenig weiter vorwärts faren,Bis zu einem kühlen Waldbrunnen,Der ist mit Blut überronnen.'[47]

L 26-28, 17-19.

The three cries are for father, mother, brother. InKthe brother fights with "Ulrich" two hours and a half before he can master him, then despatches him with his two-edged sword, and hangs him in a withe. He fires his rifle inL, to announce his coming, and hears his sister's laugh; then stabs the knight through the heart. The moral ofJis repeated in both: Stay at home, and trust no knight.

Msmacks decidedly of the bänkelsänger, and has an appropriate moral at the tail:animi index cauda!The characters are a cavalier and a girl, both nameless, and a brother. The girl, hearing the knight sing "ein Liedchen von dreierlei Stimmen," which should seem to signify a three-part song, says, "Ah, could I sing like him, I would straightway give him my honor." They ride to the wood, and come upon a hazel-bush withthreedoves, one of which informs the maid that she will be betrayed, the second that she will die that day, and the third that she will be buried in the wood. The second and third doves, as being false prophets, and for other reasons, may safely be pronounced intruders. All is now lost till we come to the cries, which are addressed to father, mother, and brother. The brother stabs the traitor to the heart.[48]

Nis as short asM, and, like it, has no names, but has all the principal points: the fascinating song, the dove on the bush, eleven maids in the fir, the three cries, and the rescue by the huntsman-brother, who cocks his gun and shoots the knight. The reciter of this ballad gave the editor to understand that if the robber had succeeded in his twelfth murder, he would have attained such powers that nobody after that could harm him.[49]

Ois a fairly well-preserved ballad, resemblingG-Jas to the course of the story. Anneli, lying under the casement, hears the knight singing as he rides through the reeds. The elaborate toilet is omitted, as inI,J. The knight makes haste to the dark wood. They come to a cold spring, "mit Bluot war er überrunnen;" then to a hazel, behind which a dove coos ominously. Anneli says, Listen. The dove coos you are a false man, that will not spare my life. No, says the knight, that is not it; the dove is cooing about its blue foot, for its fate is to freeze in winter. The cloak is thrown on the grass, the eleven maids in the fir are descried, and Anneli is told she must hang highest, and be empress over all. He concedes her as many cries as she likes, for only the wood-birds will hear. She calls on God, the Virgin, and her brother. The brother thinks he hears his sister's voice, calls to his groom to saddle, comes upon the knight while he is twisting a withe for his horse, as he says, ties him to the end of the withe, and makes him pay for all he has perpetrated in the wood. He then swings Anneli behind him, and rides home with her.

P, the other Swiss ballad, has been retouched, and more than retouched in places, by a modern pen. Still the substance of the story, and, on the whole, the popular tone, is preserved. Fair Anneli, in the miller's house, hears the knight singing as he rides through the rushes, and runs down-stairs and calls to him: she would go off with him if she could sing like that, and her clothes are fit for any young lady. The knight promises that he will teach her his song if she will go with him, and bids her put these fine clothes on. They ride to the wood. A dove calls from the hazel, "He will betray thee." Anneli asks what the dove is saying, and is answered much as inJandO, that it is talking about its frost-bitten feet and claws. The knight tears through the wood, to the great peril of Anneli's gown and limbs, and when he has come to the right place, spreads his cloak on the grass, and makes the usual request. She weeps when she sees eleven maids in the fir-tree, and receives the customary consolation:

'Weep not too sore, my Anneli,'Tis true thou art doomed the twelfth to be;Up to the highest tip must thou go,And a margravine be to all below;Must be an empress over the rest,And hang the highest of all as the best.'

The request to be allowed three cries is lost. The knight tells her to cry as much as she pleases, he knows no one will come; the wild birds will not hear, and the doves are hushed. She cries to father, mother, and brother. The brother, who is sitting over his wine at the inn, hears, saddles his best horse, rides furiously, and comes first to a spring filled with locks of maid's hair and red with maid's blood; then to a bush, where the knight (Rüdeli, Rudolph) is twisting his withe. He bids his sister be silent, for the withe is not for her; the villain is twisting it for his own neck, and shall be dragged at the tail of his horse.

Qresembles the Swabian ballads, and presents only these variations from the regular story. The dove adds to the warning, "Fair maid, be not beguiled," what we find nowhere else, "Yonder I see a cool spring, around which blood is running." The knight, to remove the maid's anxiety, says, "Let it talk; it does not know me; I am no such murderer." The end is excessively feeble. When the brother, a hunter as before, reaches his sister, "a robber runs away," and then the brother takes her by the hand, conducts her to her father's land, and enjoins her to stay at home and spin silk. There are no names.

There is one feature entirely peculiar toR. The knight carries off the maid, as before, but when they come to the hazel bush there are eleven doves that sing this "new song:"

'Be not beguiled, maiden,The knight is beguiling thee:'We are eleven already,Thou shalt be the twelfth.'

'Be not beguiled, maiden,The knight is beguiling thee:

'We are eleven already,Thou shalt be the twelfth.'

The eleven doves are of course the spirits of the eleven preceding victims. The maid's inquiry as to what they mean is lost. The knight's evasion is not ingenious, but more likely to allay suspicion than simply saying, "I am no such murderer." He says, "Fear not: the doves are singing a song that is common in these parts." When they come to the spring "where blood and water are running," and the maid asks what strange spring is this, the knight answers in the same way, and perhaps could not do better: "Fear not:there isin these parts a spring that runs blood and water." This spring is misplaced, for it occurs before they enter the wood. The last scene in the ballad is incomplete, and goes no further than the brother's exclamation when he comes in upon the knight: "Stop, young knight! Spare my sister's life." The parties inRare nameless.

So again inS, which also has neither the knight's enchanting song nor the bloody spring. There are two doves, as inJ, stanza 4. The cries are addressed to mother, father, brother, as inN, and, as inN, again, the brother cocks his gun, and shoots the knight down;[50]then calmly leads his sister home, with the warning against knights.

(III.)T, the first of the third series, has marked signs of deterioration. Ulrich does not enchant Ännchen by his song, and promise to teach it to her; he offers to teach her "bird-song." Theywalkout together, apparently, and come to a hazel, with no dove; neither is there any spring. Annie sits down on the grass; Ulrich lays his head in her lap; she weeps, and he asks why. It is for eleven maids in the fir-tree, as so often before. Ulrich's style has become much tamer:

'Ah, Annie, Annie, dear to me,How soon shalt thou the twelfth one be!'

She begs for three cries, and calls to her father, to God, to her youngest brother. The last is sitting over the wine and hears. He demands of Ulrich where she is, and is told, Upon yon linden, spinning silk. Then ensues this dialogue: Why are your shoes blood-red? Why not? I have shot a dove. That dove my mother bare under her breast. Annie is laid in the grave, and angels sing over her; Ulrich is broken on the wheel, and round him the ravens cry.

There is no remnant or reminiscence of the magical singing inU. Schön 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 inT. Ulrich says the eleven maids were his wives, and that he had thrust his sword through their hearts. Annie asks for threesighs, 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 inT.

Vdiffers fromUonly in the names, which are Schön-Heinrich and Schön-Ännelein, and in the "sighs" returning to cries, which invoke God, father, and brother.

Wbegins 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 inI. 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 inT,U,V.

Yhas 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 shewishes 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 inW. 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 inW, 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 inF, 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 [exceptF, 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 butQshe is warned of her danger by a dove,[53]or more than one; in all but the much-abridgedM,N, the knight spreads his cloak on the grass, they sit down, and, exceptingM,N,R, the unromantic service is repeated which she undertakes in DanishA,B,D,E,F,H,L, SwedishA, NorwegianA,B. The bloody spring occurs in some form, though often not quite intelligible, inH,J,K,L,O,P,Q,R(also inD,Y). All but the much-abridgedM,Nhave the question, What are you weeping for? your father's land, humbled pride, lost honor? etc.; but this question recurs inT,U,V,W. The cries for help are a feature of both the second and the third class, and are wanting only inY. 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 longerthan 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]

ADutchversion 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 54A, 38 vv, with variations, and p. 59,B, a fragment of 10 vv; (Ain 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 ofY(which last agree with 1-4 of Meinert's 'Wassermanns Braut'); 17, 18, toY5, 6; 25-34 to 21-30; and we find in verse 22 the stake through the heart which Hoffmann has interpolated inW, stanza 12.

(2.) A Silesian copy of 'WassermannsBraut,' 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 balladW, 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 EnglishC-F, but with some important differences, is extraordinarily diffused inPoland. There is also a single version of the general type of EnglishA, 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 GermanA, 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, NoIV: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*. InB-Kthe woman comes off alive from her adventure: inO-CC, she loses her life: inL-Nthere is a jumble of both conclusions:DD-MMare 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 intothe 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 bushD]. 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 ashoreI,J,GG].

Catherine comes out from the water alive inB-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, andL*,O,P,Q,X, but is a mere shadow. InB21, 22, andC16, 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 inD: 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 inB,C. InL*15,O12, the brother, on a high mountain, hears the cry for help, and slides down to his sister on a silken cord, but does nothing.Xdoes 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 inP21, 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 inQ27 [perhaps "the brother on the wall" inPisa 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. InG,I,J, she seats herself on a stone, and apostrophizes her hair, saying [inG,I], "Dry, my locks, dry, for you have had much pleasure in the river!" She goes to church, takes an humble place, and weeps, inE,F,G, as inB,C,D. John goes scot-free in all these.[61]Not so in the more vigorousballads 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 inN[62]) comes from a distant country, or from over the border, inO,Q,R,T,DD,GG, as in EnglishD,E. The maid is at a window inM,W, as in GermanG,J,M,O,P,Q, etc. InQ2, 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 DanishA,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 FrenchB,D, ItalianB,C,D,F,G. The choice of deaths which we find in GermanA-Fappears inJ. 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 thisriver? They come to a dark wood inAA; 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? SoH, andRnearly.[63]She prefers death to returning. Previous victims are mentioned inT,DD,HH. When she calls from the river for help, he answers,T22, You fancy you are the only one there; six have gone before, and you are the seventh:HH16, Swim the river; go down to the bottom; six maids are there already, and you shall be the seventh [four, fifth]:DD13, 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. AWendishversion 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. GermanY, and the Transylvanian mixed formB), 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 aBohemianballad, 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 givesit 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.

AServianballad 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 PolishO-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. GermanA-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."

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